Exit Strategy Chapter 5
Title: Exit Strategy, Ch 5
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humor, romance, angst
Pairings: jock!US/school president!UK (there's no point in the denial at this point...)
Warning: Language, (extreme!) kissing
Summary: High school AU. It all started with Arthur snapping when he'd been fed up with Alfred's stupid teasing. And now....now he can't help but think he's signed away his soul. Or at least his dignity. But he only has to survive this idiocy for a few days, right?
Chapter 5
Saturday evening was equitable to hell on earth within the Kirkland household. Arthur had managed to wait out the color staining his cheeks, but there was no way of stopping his brothers from being obnoxious anyway. Colin, of course, pounced the moment the door closed, pestering for details and whether Arthur had gotten anyone knocked up yet. Sean provided the counterpoint, wondering aloud what Arthur had done to kill so much time after his date surely left five minutes in. The option, obviously, had been to lock himself in his room and refuse to come out.
Arthur’s mother nullified that option by demanding he sit at the table with everyone for dinner. She’d cooed over her youngest boy going on his first real date (it had been his first since middle school, in which a girl who’d constantly kicked his shins had talked him into going to one movie with her) and generally made Arthur want to drown himself in the potatoes and gravy on his plate in order to have the whole thing over and done with.
It wasn’t until eleven at night that Colin and Sean were finally shut up and anything decent happened.
“Arthur?” He looked up at the knock on his bedroom door accompanying his father’s voice. Arthur called a Come in and kept his eyes on the book he’d been skimming as his father closed the door behind him, taking a seat on Arthur’s bed where he was laid out with his feet across the pillows.
“To ask in a much less irritating way,” the man started, “how did it go today?” Arthur looked up to see his father’s face open and honest, just a touch of concern behind it. He’d always been exceptionally close to his father, and at this moment, Arthur was grateful that one member of his family didn’t constantly drive him up a wall.
“Not bad at all, actually,” Arthur answered honestly, marking the page he’d been on with a finger stuck in between the pages. “It was…rather oddly fun.”
“And, uh, hmm.” His father struggled for a moment, but pushed through and Arthur had to admire him for that. “Do I know the boy?”
Arthur had only come out to his father, and he was eternally grateful that the man had been so understanding. His brothers would certainly not be able to handle such information maturely, and though his mother was a doting, loving woman, she was also very staid in tradition and dreamed of being a grandma with multitudes of grandchildren to fawn over. His father, however, had always been a level-headed, matter-of-fact man with a kind of good-humored acceptance that Arthur had never had a problem speaking honestly to. When he’d accepted Arthur’s orientation with nothing but a few questions and a story about a friend of his who was gay, Arthur had known he’d been blessed with an exceptional father.
“You follow our football team, right?” Arthur asked, going on when his father nodded. “You know the, erm, the quarterback?”
The man’s brows furrowed for a moment (and Arthur could see where he’d gotten his own impressive set), then they rose in surprise. “You mean that Jones kid? Albert or something?”
“Alfred,” Arthur corrected automatically. “But yes. Him. I was…with him today.”
“I thought you two didn’t get on well,” his father questioned, the concern growing in his expression. “What happened?”
“I…” Arthur struggled for the right words. “He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. It’s just a couple of dates, then he’ll be out of my hair and have his closure to make him happy.”
“Son,” he started, and Arthur could feel a lecture coming on. “I know you probably don’t think of it this way, but you can’t be leading people on, even if they think it’s what they want. It’s cruel and I’ve never raised you to be that, despite the example your brothers sometimes set. You told me you had fun today, and if that’s true then I support you in continuing this, but if you’re planning on leaving him as soon as your end of whatever deal you have is done, you need to end it now.”
Arthur didn’t want to meet his father’s eyes; he really, truly didn’t. Instead, he kept his gaze trained on the book he was now playing with, nervously flipping the pages against his thumbs.
“I’m not asking you to have it all figured out,” Arthur’s father said, smiling halfway. “I know you’re a teenage boy and things are complicated. But you know when you have a genuine interest in someone, and I expect you to be mature enough to do the right thing by this boy and by yourself.”
Arthur lifted his eyes, meeting his father’s gaze. The man looked expectant. “Yes, Dad,” Arthur said finally. “I understand.”
“Alright,” he said, nodding and letting his expression slip into something more wry. “And let me know if I need to give him the shotgun speech, understood?”
Arthur rolled his eyes, glad for the tension break. “I highly doubt it’s going to come to that, Dad. Besides, it’s not like he can get me pregnant or something.”
“Oi! This is about more than physical repercussions,” he replied with fake sternness. “I don’t want to have to break some eighteen-year-old kid’s face for breaking my son’s heart.”
“Seventeen, Dad,” Arthur corrected with a grin. “He’s only a junior; don’t terrify him out of his wits.”
“Ah…” his father said slowly, giving Arthur suspicious eyes. “So you’re chasing after younger men, are you? I always knew you took after your mother. Trapped me out of my youth, that woman did! But she was a vixen back in-”
“Dad,” Arthur said, cutting him off sharply. “I don’t need to hear about how attractive Mom was back in the day. And besides, your ‘she seduced me’ argument isn’t proven by you still being sickeningly in love with her.”
“Aye, that I am,” his father admitted, standing with a small laugh. “And one day you’ll know how truly stomach-turning being in love can be, my boy.” He walked to the door, and Arthur had already reopened his book when the man paused and turned back before opening the door.
“Arthur,” he said, dropping back into a serious tone. “If you plan on continuing to see this Alfred boy, you’re going to have to tell the rest of the family. It wouldn’t be fair to keep it from them anymore.”
Arthur swallowed, but nodded, and waved a bit to his father before the door closed behind him as he left the room.
Saturday night was pretty much hell for Arthur. Because of his brothers, because of his own embarrassment, because of his mother’s doting, but also….because he’d been issued an ultimatum. He had to try to sort out what exactly he felt toward Alfred.
-
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Arthur still didn’t have it totally figured out. Yes, he’d finally admitted frankly, he’d enjoyed himself on Saturday afternoon. And no, he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of physical contact with Alfred at this juncture.
But…they had so much history. Alfred had always been the bane of Arthur’s existence, ever since the younger boy entered the ninth grade. He supposed it said something that even though he had other annoyances (namely Francis), Alfred had always had the mental center stage from Arthur’s point of view. He’d found ways to get under Arthur’s skin that didn’t make him threaten harassment suits or drive him to the point of true loathing, but had rather always been an irritating constant in Arthur’s life. Not enough to attempt to get rid of, but just aggravating enough that Alfred stayed on his mind.
In the end, and after much hemming and hawing, Arthur decided he simply wasn’t sure how he felt. He was positive that wouldn’t be a valid conclusion in his father’s eyes, but it was as far as Arthur could determine. He could give Alfred an honest second date, at least. Arthur still owed him that, and besides, that was what dating was about, right? Getting to know someone better in order to decide whether one really wanted a long-term relationship.
Of course, Alfred himself made everything harder. For one, he’d continued oh so happily carrying Arthur’s books for him, completely oblivious to the odd looks they were now getting almost constantly. And he hadn’t stopped being an ass about it either. As if going on one date had given him free rein, Alfred had insisted on following Arthur around, saying he didn’t want him to hurt his “old man” back by carting around his own things. Funny, he hadn’t been concerned about Arthur straining himself when Alfred had been holding the bloody books just out of reach a few months ago.
Alfred pouted at that when Arthur brought it up. “I was still being stupid back then,” he defended, pulling Arthur to sit with him and Kiku during lunch.
“You’re still being stupid,” Arthur quipped, huffily turning away from Alfred and toward Kiku. “I don’t see how you’ll ever stop.”
“Aw, c’mon, Artie,” the younger teen wheedled, expression teasing. “You know I always act stupid around you. I can’t help it. You fry my brain, you sexy beast.”
“Shut up,” Arthur snapped, feeling his face change color again. “And what’s with that expression, Kiku?”
The Japanese boy was smiling softly, watching them. Arthur squirmed under his gaze and scooted minutely away from Alfred. Kiku smile slipped at that, becoming less calm, more wry.
“I have been trying to avoid letting the gossip among our classmates color my opinions,” Kiku said. “But your actions betray the affection that has grown between you two. I am inclined to think some of the rumors are true, even if I know better.”
“What is that supposed to-?” Arthur cut himself off, looking sharply at his friend. “What exactly are people saying?” He pointedly ignored Alfred’s triumphant Ha! behind him.
“I believe the most common story is that Alfred confessed his feelings to you, and you admitted your own secret love for him, falling teary-eyed into his arms.”
Arthur could feel his jaw clenching in anger. The urge to commit murder was rising, directed straight at Alfred, who was now gasping to breathe past his laughter.
“Dude, what else?” he asked eagerly, and Kiku went on before Arthur could stop him.
“Well,” he started matter-of-factly. “There is a rather popular faction who tells it differently. Apparently, their story is that Arthur, fed up with your inability to acknowledge his or your own feelings, set out to seduce you. Overcome by his superior age and sexual prowess, you gave in to Arthur’s advances and the pair of you Christened the student council office after everyone had gone home.”
Arthur turned with a smirk across his face, and was pleased to see Alfred looking a little confused and mostly appalled.
“I think I like that one,” Arthur mused aloud.
“However,” Kiku interrupted again. “I find the most believable is the rumor of your secret affair resulting from the Homecoming debacle, or the truth of Arthur being talked into going out with Alfred despite his denial of his feelings on the subject.” Nodding to signify he was done, the smaller boy returned to his lunch, eating quietly.
“H-how did you know?” Arthur asked, shocked. And odd noise from Alfred’s general direction made him whip around, glaring poisonously. “What did you do?”
“I…I just- um.” Alfred cut off as he Arthur continued to glare at him. “Promise you won’t kill me? It’s not that bad.”
“I will do no such thing,” Arthur answered. “Speak, boy.”
“Okay, okay! Chill.” He scooped a hand through his hair, eyes lifting to look somewhere that wasn’t Arthur’s face. “I just told Kiku what was up so that he could tell me what kind of stuff you like. And it’s good I did, too! You totally loved yesterday, right?”
Arthur refused to dignify that with an answer, mostly because he wasn’t sure he had one. “At least you kept it to someone you who keep his mouth shut. And-” He paused, talking to the ground when he began again. “I suppose you could call it being…thoughtful or something.”
Alfred beamed. Arthur had about a grand total of three and a half seconds to brace himself before the larger boy hug-tackled him, Arthur dodging just enough not to crush his own lunch by landing on it.
“What the bloody fuck do you think you’re doing?” Arthur hissed, trying not to draw more attention to the both of them.
“You admitted I can actually think about stuff,” Alfred proclaimed joyously, snuggling his face into Arthur’s neck in a very disconcerting way. “You’re warming up to me.”
“Oh, please.” Arthur struggled momentarily, then finally managed to get Alfred sitting upright and unlatched from his person. He huffed, pointedly moving past the fact that he was clearly blushing, from combinations of embarrassment and other unmentionable things.
“You’ve proven you can put thought into things when you want to,” Arthur said with as little emotion as possible. “And you’ve shown that when it matters, you can have some semblance of courtesy and self-control, even if it is infinitely more comfortable to interact with you on a level closer to what we normal do. I wouldn’t say I’m warming up to you, so much as I’m…intrigued. By the different attitudes I was previously unfamiliar with.”
The bell rang before there could be any response to that, but Arthur was caught around the elbow and hauled back into his seat when he tried to walk away. Kiku left discretely, throwing away their trash and giving the pair a moment semi-alone.
Alfred was giving him that soft smile, Arthur realized with a pang of…frustration. It was the one from the rabbits again, and Arthur was starting to dread its reappearance every time.
“Thanks,” Alfred said simply. “I like you, too.” Arthur didn’t immediately refute the implication, but was beginning to when Alfred leaned forward, intention clear. The older boy turned his head at the last second, so that Alfred’s lips landed somewhere under his ear. Going with it, Alfred simply pressed a light kiss there instead, and Arthur shoved him away to cover the reaction it shot down his spine.
Alfred gave in easily, standing and waving to Arthur as he walked off, promising to see him after school. Arthur waved faintly, watching him for a second. He didn’t entirely realize he was spacing out until Kiku politely cleared his throat right next to him.
“So sorry,” Arthur muttered, getting his things together. “Let’s hope we aren’t late at this point.”
“You’re really going on another date with him,” Kiku said, managing to make it sound like both a question and a statement.
“I…” Arthur struggled. “That was the deal. Or didn’t he tell you?” Just a little irritably, Arthur shouldered his bag and marched toward their next class, Kiku keeping up at his side.
“You are not one to let yourself be pushed around, Arthur,” Kiku commented. “You are a strong person and you wouldn’t do this if you truly hated Alfred.” Arthur ignored that very true point.
“I think you should tell him how you feel about him,” Kiku said, with a faint note of finality. Arthur looked taken aback and tried to piece together the best form of denial he could muster. “It would make him happy.”
Arthur deflated rather suddenly, glowering at the ground. “That git is always happy,” he muttered darkly. “Why would he need me to do anything to make him happier?”
“He is happy around you, Arthur,” Kiku replied, holding the door open as they reached their class, and lowering his voice below the other students’ noise. “Telling him the truth would make him happy wherever he is.”
Arthur shoved himself into his seat, willing away the feeling in his stomach (that was not butterflies, but perhaps moths or something). Kiku walked past him to his own desk when he saw no answer was forthcoming. “Who says it’s the truth?” Arthur mumbled finally.
-
The end of the school day was heralded by a choir of angels in Arthur’s head. He was so ready to be out of there, and best of all, there was no student council today. Instead, Arthur made his way up to the more distant half of the school, eventually arriving at the band rooms.
He was half an hour early, and he knew it, but Arthur was also aware that most of the students involved in the after-school rock band class arrived early anyway. He simply happened to be the first arrival today. He wasted no time in dumping his backpack and walking to the storeroom, returning with a beaten up guitar case.
The case might have seen better days, but the instrument inside looked nearly new; a black and white Gibson Les Paul with a bright purple pick stuck between the strings for safe-keeping. Arthur didn’t bother plugging it in for a simple warm up, but rather took a seat on one of the carpeted steps of the room and began fine tuning any strings that had gone loose over the past week.
By the time he had everything set, there were two more people in the room. Gregory, who normally played guitar along with Arthur, switching between lead and back-up, and Lina, a petite Indian girl who sang all the female vocals and played bass. Arthur nodded as Gregory sat next to him, tuning up his own guitar.
Without really paying attention, Arthur started picking out chords, the tune somewhat familiar even though he wasn’t entirely focusing on it. A few moments later, Gregory picked up with the complimentary notes and started singing the lyrics as well.
“And all I can taste is your sweetness,
And all I can breathe is your life
And sooner or later it’s over
I just don’t wanna miss you tonight”
Arthur nearly rolled his eyes at his inadvertent song choice. Oh well, at least he didn’t have to sing it. The notes and tone fit Gregory’s voice better anyway.
“And I don’t want the world to see me
Cause I don’t think that they’d understand”
And that was what he was afraid of, wasn’t it? Letting everyone else see him succumb to a few sappy feelings and a determined boy. He was afraid of people judging him to be both weak and weird. Being gay would be hard enough without having the possibility of dating the quarterback, who people would assume had swept Arthur off his feet. He kind of thought if something was going to happen, he’d like a part in the ‘sweeping’ too. But of course, any rumors of him having seduced Alfred would die the moment they started interacting together, because Arthur had no experience at all.
And he was a little bit afraid of that too, he could admit privately.
“And when everything’s made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am”
When he moved past the denial that had been oh so comfortable, Arthur really just wasn’t sure Alfred even knew what he wanted. Surely he didn’t want Arthur, not with how he’d always told the Brit he was boring, old, crotchety, prissy- And if that was all Alfred saw in him, he was clearly being played, because who could possibly want all that?
Arthur put a halt on all introspective thoughts from there on out. He didn’t want to work himself into and Alfred-induced emo session anyway. He’d play the guitar, probably end up shredding his vocal chords singing Anarchy in the UK, as was tradition for the class. And when he was done with all that, then he could delegate some time to thinking about Alfred. For now, he had a bridge to catch up to.
-
Alfred was quite confused when he didn’t find Arthur at the student council room. He’d killed enough time that the meeting should be over, but not enough that Arthur could have esc- left. Left, because he wasn’t running away. Alfred wasn’t planning on bugging Arthur or anything anyway. He’d just wanted to see if maybe the smaller teen might be interested in going to get a sandwich or a smoothie or something.
Which was totally not a date! Alfred made that distinction very clear in his mind, and would do the same for Arthur. Alfred would have to bail if Arthur insisted on counting it, because he wasn’t wasting his last chance to impress the guy on middle-of-the-day sandwiches and/or smoothies. But of course he’d pay if Arthur agreed, because that was just the polite and good-guy thing to do.
Still, none of this would happen if he couldn’t find the Brit. And Arthur was being rather challenging to find. Alfred had double checked his locker, walked past the meeting room one more time, gone to the library, looked into the office, and stuck his head in as many classroom doors were open before coming back to the office to ask on the off chance the lady at the front might know where he was. He kind of hoped she did, because otherwise, that would mean Arthur really had gone home even after Alfred had said he’d see him after school.
“Oh, I’d think his friend would know,” the woman said, laughing slightly, and Alfred winced because they hadn’t even been on very civil terms until recently. “Arthur goes to that rock class every Monday afternoon. It’s in room 801.”
Alfred thanked her and walked off for upper campus, hands in his pockets. He remembered wanting to be friends with Arthur, once. He’d thought that British boy was really cool and commanding even with his awkwardly large eyebrows, and Alfred had wanted to be friends with him when he’d entered high school as a freshman. Somewhere along the way, Alfred wasn’t really sure when or how, that had morphed into wanting to get under his skin.
Everyone had liked Alfred when he tried, and Arthur had just sort of brushed him off as a new face and nothing important. That had stung a bit. So Alfred had turned to bugging the crap out of him at every turn. He’d almost forgotten at one point he’d actually had positive feelings for Arthur aside from when the Brit was so flustered his face turned red.
Admittedly, it was amusing getting Arthur all riled up, and it still was even if Alfred had changed his view point a bit. He had Matthew to thank for that epiphany anyway. Alfred would have gone on tormenting Arthur until graduation at the rate he’d been going. But apparently the whole twin connection thing was true, because when he’d come home sulking after Arthur had told him to make a move or “bugger off”, Matthew’s first question had been whether it was about Arthur.
What had progressed from there could be called an intervention at best and a brotherly brawl at worst. Eventually, Alfred had wound up with Matt in a headlock, yelling at him that if Arthur liked him he would have said so. And Matthew, in his infinite wisdom, had pointed out that Alfred was the bully here and Arthur had no reason to believe he wouldn’t be ridiculed within an inch of his life if he admitted anything.
And Alfred, in his equally infinite optimism, had gone for it. He kind of regretted coming on as strong as he did at first, but he wasn’t going to apologize for something that got Arthur to date him, even if it was just filling a deal. He honestly liked the older blonde; liked teasing him, liked seeing him smile, liked the way he fit his clothes, liked how he never backed down. Alfred only wished they were on good enough terms (and he’d been comfortable being sappy enough) to tell Arthur those kinds of things.
Reaching the music room doors, Alfred took a fortifying breath. He would get Arthur to like him permanently. He would be himself, his nice self, the one that didn’t slam Arthur’s locker closed or try to pilfer his number so he could write ‘call for a good time’ on the bathroom stalls. He’d be the Alfred that Arthur seemed to like. And seeing as it made happy, it wouldn’t even be that hard.
Grinning to himself, Alfred yanked open the door. Yeah, he was totally gonna sweep Arthur off his….
Alfred could physically feel his thought processes back up at the sight that greeted him when he opened the music room doors. Arthur was there alright. Arthur was also, um…how could he put this eloquently? Smokin’ hot? Was that appropriate for the situation?
Either way, Alfred kind of didn’t know how to react to seeing Arthur (student body president, don’t-touch-me, straight A’s, Arthur Kirkland) with his shirt half unbuttoned, screaming into a mic with sweat dripping from all over his body onto a black and white guitar hanging by his hips. Stunned, Alfred watched from the doorway as Arthur sang the lyrics to something loud and harsh, eyes clenched shut and lips almost surrounding the mic. Damn, he was jealous of that microphone.
Some part of Alfred’s mind registered there was a whole rest of a band standing behind Arthur, but the greater part was occupied keeping his eyes from falling out of his head and wondering desperately why he hadn’t seen Arthur like this before. And he was really fucking good. Not the most musical voice, but perfect for something originally sung by Johnny Rotten. Although that could be a little biased, because Alfred thought he’d sound good singing something by the Beatles too, and that made him think it might be the accent thing.
At least this explained why Arthur had been so bitchy about the local band they’d heard. And that thought managed to pull him out of ogling status just in time to hear the band finish out their song. Didn’t really help the fact that Arthur was now swallowing a bottle of water in what looked like only two great gulps with a few drops spilling over his lips and mind out of the gutter time!
Alfred shook himself lightly and managed to make it inside without giving in to the urge to simply pounce. Arthur probably wouldn’t be happy with that, especially with witnesses standing around packing up their instruments. Speaking of which-
Arthur had crouched down to put his own guitar in its case and looked up only momentarily when he noticed Alfred standing near him. He stuck the pick back between the strings, flipped it shut, and put the latches in place before standing.
“Hello,” he heaved on a breath. Alfred blinked at the great big smile on his face, which was both good-looking and very not-Arthur-like. “Just give me a tic. Be right back.”
Oh God, Alfred thought shakily. He was sounding more British. And he wasn’t protesting. And he was grinning without any big effort. Who knew rock music was the answer to all of Alfred’s problems in life? Except perhaps the lack-of-breathing-right one he was experiencing just now, but sacrifices had to be made.
Arthur was back within a few seconds, shirt a little neater this time, and Alfred tried not to be disappointed in that fact, but failed that mission badly.
“So where are you carting me off too?” Arthur asked, running a hand through his hair, probably to tame it, but only making it spikier. He noticed Alfred’s slight staring and started to close the last two buttons he’d neglected earlier, leading the way outside, backpack in hand. “Sorry about my, er, state of dress. It get hot moving around that much and- Why the bloody hell am I justifying myself to you anyway? You’re the one who looks like a slob all the time.”
Arthur left the top button undone, seemingly in defiance, and Alfred silently thanked the patron saint of rebellion.
“Cool,” he said, only answering because it was starting to even weird himself out that he wasn’t talking.
“What’s your problem?” Arthur asked, starting to turn hostile again as his eyebrows made the steady descent into a scowl. Alfred decided he wouldn’t stand for that.
Instead, he grabbed Arthur’s wrist, trying not to hold on too hard as he pulled him back into the music room. He shouted something at the teacher about cleaning and locking up afterward, but was more preoccupied with the fact that there was a soundproof room with his and Arthur’s names on it.
“The fuck are you doing?!” Arthur squawked as he was turned and slightly shoved into a chair. Alfred didn’t answer at first, but instead knelt in front of him, tugging Arthur’s backpack out of his hand and onto the floor. The smaller boy looked affronted, but stopped whatever protest he was about to make when Alfred’s hands landed on his thighs before his nose was suddenly in Arthur’s hair.
“You are so hot,” Alfred breathed, mouth at Arthur’s ear. He could feel Arthur’s skin heat against his cheek and didn’t have to look to know the boy was blushing. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you play before. You look so damn good like that.”
“R-really?” Alfred backed up at Arthur’s question, but found the older boy’s face going from surprise to determination rather rapidly. “Then why don’t you do something about it?”
“Huh?” Alfred replied, which he thought was reasonable. After all, Arthur was looking at him in this weird way that if he didn’t know better (and he wasn’t sure he did know better), he would have called seductive or sultry or sexy or one of those ‘s’ words.
“I believe my words were:” Arthur paused, looked Alfred straight in the eye, and said in a low voice. “Either bugger off or actually make a fucking move. You child.”
Okay, Alfred kind of shuddered for a second and wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t. But the important part was, Arthur was implying it was okay to kiss him. Really kiss him like Alfred had wanted to the first day he’d figured everything out. So he wasn’t about to object.
In the span of a heartbeat, Alfred was pushing up from where he was on his knees, crashing his mouth into Arthur’s. Something told him now was not the time for sweet and gentle, and he figured he was right when Arthur latched onto him, hand in Alfred’s hair and the other going down the back of his shirt. At the same time, Arthur was keeping his mouth shut, kissing Alfred back chastely, but still, kissing back for the first time.
Some part of his mind that wasn’t focused on kissing Arthur managed to note that it was convenient their school was only willing to pay for the smaller chairs, as it made it easier to push up into Arthur’s touch even kneeling on the ground in front of him. They still weren’t entirely level, but with Arthur leaning down to him like that, who cared?
Arthur’s legs parted, allowing Alfred to move closer to him, and suddenly, Arthur had his legs on either side of Alfred’s torso and was parting his mouth just enough that when he pulled away for a second, it made a wet sound. Alfred groaned and tried to pull him back, but the Brit held Alfred away by the hand in his hair, silently demanding Alfred pay attention to him aside from the kissing aspect.
“Up,” Arthur demanded, and Alfred quickly moved to obey, standing only to be pushed into another older, and more normal-sized chair while Arthur took to his feet.
“Why’re you…?” Alfred trailed off when Arthur swung a leg over him, straddling Alfred’s thighs and making him stare in disbelief.
“Prove to me that you really want me,” he ordered, laying his arms across Alfred’s shoulders but not moving any further. “And for God’s sake, do it before I remember why I shouldn’t do this.”
Feeling kind of bad, Alfred leaned forward to kiss each corner of Arthur’s mouth in turn. “Okay. And I’ll show you why you should, too.” He didn’t want Arthur to feel insecure, and clearly, Alfred totally wanted him, weirdness and stubborn attitude and all. He’d just have to show him.
So he kissed Arthur again, with both hands cupping his face, slower but with no less intensity. The green-eyed blonde responded by sighing against his mouth and sliding their lips together so that they caught and opened against each other. Moving to grip him around the waist, Alfred brushed his tongue ever so slightly along Arthur’s bottom lip, not asking for entrance but simply feeling him out.
Arthur let him, and after a few seconds Alfred felt the responding press of Arthur’s tongue slipping over his own. They weren’t quite invading each other’s mouths, just meeting in the middle while neither could decide who would shove forward first. Alfred eventually bridged that gap, tracing along the space between Arthur’s teeth and tongue while the smaller boy opened his mouth to him, arms once again winding around Alfred’s neck.
Alfred shivered at the feel of Arthur’s nails dragging lightly up his spine and pulled the older teen closer so that their chests were a mere breath apart. Arthur was making the best kind of soft noises every time their lips parted for a moment and Alfred was almost afraid of tugging Arthur any closer. Because while he’d pushed Alfred into making out with him, Alfred had a feeling Arthur would never forgive him if they progressed any further than that in the back room of the school’s music department. And if he had Arthur any closer, all those little squirming moves he was making would be grinding down in all the right places to get certain very strong reactions from Alfred.
With heroic determination, Alfred managed to stop kissing Arthur and look him in the eye. Arthur was certainly flushed, and looked a bit annoyed that Alfred had stopped, but he simply frowned and wiggled a bit impatiently when Alfred cleared his throat to speak.
“You want more proof than that?” Alfred asked, half-smirking. “Cause I can keep going, but I doubt you really wanna be known for putting out after the first date.”
Arthur abruptly looked more flustered than heated and retracted his arm from Alfred’s shirt to shove at him as he stood up. The Brit quickly buttoned up the top of his shirt, smoothing out any wrinkles and generally looking embarrassed and out of place.
“Don’t know what I was thinking,” Alfred heard him muttering as he leaned down to retrieve his backpack. Alfred frowned for a second, then dove for his own things, an idea popping into his head. He ripped out a scrap of paper and jotted down his number before shouldering his bag and standing to walk over to Arthur.
“Hey.” Arthur turned abruptly to face him, color still high in his cheeks, but fading now. “You should call me or something. Whenever.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Git, I don’t even have your-” He cut off as Alfred pulled him forward into a hug. The Brit relaxed after a shocked moment, accepting the gesture but not quite returning it. Feeling Arthur’s shoulder lose some of their tension, Alfred slid his hand into the older boy’s back pocket, leaving behind the slip of paper with his phone number and lingering only a second before Arthur made an unhappy noise of surprise and pushed him away.
“You got it now,” Alfred grinned, stepping back easily. “Hey, why don’t we both go our separate ways today? I mean, so you can think about stuff, and I…yeah.” And I can try to pretend I’m not two seconds away from needing some alone time with my right hand.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Alfred asked, after a momentary pause. Arthur nodded, a bit belatedly, but agreeing to endure Alfred’s company yet again. The younger boy grinned and gave him a two-fingered salute before walking out the door.
Arthur located, make out achieved, number exchanged (sorta). Alfred would call today a success.
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A/N: I'm sorry this took so long, but the next chap will probably take almost as long too. Midterms next week, fun stuff.