Exit Strategy Chapter 7
Title: Exit Strategy, Ch 7
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humor, romance, (slight) angst, fluff
Pairings: jock!US/school president!UK
Warning: Language, Arthur's brothers, Alfred's mind going places
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?
A/N: Sorry this took so long, but the next chapter will probably be just as long a wait. Also, if there are typos, I apologize. I wanted to post it fast, so I wasn't willing to wait for a beta. ^^;
Chapter 7
When Anna Williams graduated from high school, she was voted most likely to give a soldier a flower necklace. What she really did with her life was slightly more productive.
In the summer of love (because every summer was a summer of love for Anna), she met David Jones. Ex-class president and future senator/congressman/leader of the free world, David fell in love with Anna that summer, started on a career path toward bringing peace to the world, and never looked back. Somewhere along the way, they got married on a sunset-lit beach, settled down into a nice two-story house in the suburbs, and had a set of twins. Two boys named Alfred and Matthew.
The last name question had been odd at first, Anna having kept her own last name, but they settled on giving each boy a different one, so Alfred Jones and Matthew Williams came into the world. Five years later, Maria Jones was adopted into the family, but she wasn’t exactly a big part of the story, and at the current moment, Alfred was really wishing she hadn’t entered it at all.
“Would you just give me the damn shoelace?!” Alfred chucked a throw pillow at his younger sister, figuring the things had to have that name for a reason and being rewarded when the little brat got pegged in the back of the head.
Maria recovered quickly, flipping off her brother in a manner very unbefitting of a twelve year old. “Come get it yourself, cabeza estúpida!”
Alfred growled low in his throat. “Quit speaking Mexican! And what are you gonna do with a shoelace anyway? I need that!”
“It’s Spanish, moron,” she shot back, dodging when Alfred lunged at her, but not quite quick enough to avoid her ankle getting caught. “Let go! Let go now before you break my leg!”
“I’m not gonna break your leg, twerp,” Alfred replied in what might have been an affectionate tone if he wasn’t pinning his sister’s arms behind her back to get the shoelace out of her grip.
Alfred let out a triumphant noise when he got it back, but was immediately tackled to the ground by the resilient twelve year old. They wrestled, shouting obscenities in both English and Spanish, until the fight was finally interrupted.
“Guys!” Matt gave the pair his sternest look when they paused for a second. “You know Mom and Dad hate it when you fight. Please, Maria, give Alfred his shoelace. And Al, stop picking on your little sister.”
“She started it,” Alfred grumbled after a second.
“Did not!” Maria came back quickly.
“It doesn’t matter,” Matt said, exasperated. “Maria, I know you don’t like Alfred leaving all the time-”
“I love it,” the girl said quickly. “I wish he was gone all the time.”
“Don’t I know it, ya little room-stealer,” Alfred replied, glaring.
“Enough!” The pair looked up at Matt again, quiet momentarily. “Maria, you have homework due Monday. If it’s not done in the next hour, I’m calling Mom and Dad, and you know they don’t like to pay long distance to hear your excuses.”
With much grumbling and a tongue stuck out at Alfred, the younger girl eventually wiggled her way out of her older brother’s wrestling hold and ran off to the kitchen to retrieve her school assignments. Cracking his neck, Alfred stood as well, shoelace held tightly in hand in case the little nuisance decided to come back for it.
“Thanks bro,” Alfred said, grinning at his twin and giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Dunno why that kid never listens to me.”
“I wasn’t on your side, Al,” Matt griped. “I’m just trying to keep you two from killing each other before Mom and Dad get from…um. Where was it this time?”
“Monaco?” Alfred answered, unsure himself. “Either way, got my shoelace back,” he went on cheerfully.
“And you’d better go put that and the shoes on,” Matt pointed out drily. “You’ve got twenty minutes until you’re supposed to pick Arthur up.”
Alfred’s eyes shot open wide. “Shit! Well, uh, thank god for fast cars, right?” With that, he sped past Matthew and his eye-rolling disdain. He had more important things to worry about than Matt’s annoyance right now.
He was supposed to already be out the door, but Maria had obviously interfered with those plans. Honestly, it was like the kid wanted him to be unhappy. Either way, he had to pick out a new shirt now, because this one had been ruined trying to get his shoelace back. But it was fine, he didn’t really like the pinstripe idea anyway. Alfred personally thought he would look just fine in a light blue button-down. It probably brought out his eyes or something.
Or at least…Alfred hoped it did. He was also kind of hoping he could get Arthur to look at the rest of his body. Alfred wasn’t totally oblivious and he’d seen that Arthur got all soft-looking when Alfred smiled at him sometimes. And Alfred definitely knew he was hot, but still…he wanted Arthur to look at him like he was attractive. Not just like he was afraid Alfred was going to snap and do something stupid all of a sudden.
He’d been stooped to relace his shoes (nice ones that he’d only worn to a dance once before), and Alfred paused to check his appearance when he stood. Yeah, the shirt looked good, and he’d even tucked it into his pants, showing off his shape just a little bit. Matt had told him to go with black slacks and thrown a nice silver buckled belt at him when rejecting Alfred’s original choice of his favorite Yosemite Sam belt. That was probably a good idea, thinking back on it.
Swiping his fingers through his hair to settle it properly, Alfred shot himself a dashing smile in the mirror before leaving his room.
“Be back at, uh, some point!” he shouted in the general direction of his siblings as he grabbed the car keys. “And Maria, you better not be in my room when I get back, or-”
“Why?” She was right around the corner apparently, and Alfred jumped at her sudden appearance. “Are you bringing your boyfriend back to have sex?”
“God, no!” Alfred made a mental note to do something evil to her for embarrassing him with her weird comments and her beady little too-smart-for-a-twelve-year-old eyes. “I just want you out of my room, ya perv.”
Maria glared at him once more before flouncing off with an airy Whatever. Alfred ground his teeth and forced himself not to blow a raspberry at the back of her head. He didn’t have time to be fighting with his little sister anyway.
Alfred ignored Matt telling him to be careful and slammed outside, eyes already on the black Camaro convertible waiting for him. If there were any perks to world-traveling politically-minded parents, it was the paycheck. Technically, the car wasn’t Alfred’s until graduation, but he and Matthew were allowed to use it when their parents weren’t home. Matt just tended not to, having an aversion to fast cars and preferring to let Alfred cart people around if he enjoyed driving so much.
Either way, Alfred wasn’t complaining. He got to pick Arthur up in probably the coolest car around town, and he had to be a little impressed by that. Speaking of which…Arthur probably wasn’t going to be extra pleased if Alfred showed up late, and he had- Oh crap. Five minutes. Praising his car would have to wait.
Alfred personally thought he was a good driver, even if he had to run a few stop signs to get to Arthur’s house on time. Besides, it was worth it. Who knew if Arthur wouldn’t just slam the door in his face if he was late? The guy was...what was a good word? Persnickety? Yeah, why not. In any case, Alfred wanted to make the best impression he could tonight.
His hands twisted on the steering wheel and he hoped they wouldn’t be horribly sweaty by the time he got there. What was he getting himself so worked up for anyway? I mean, Arthur wasn’t exactly hard to sweet-talk, despite how hard he tried to resist Alfred’s charms. But he was also Arthur, and he was older than Alfred, and he was always perfect, so Alfred kind of felt like he needed to be too. He wasn’t getting a second chance at this, after all. Everything rode on tonight going well.
Alfred felt kind of stupid thinking about it. A few weeks ago, he only thought of Arthur as someone he liked getting reactions out of and now he was getting all nervous thinking about what if Arthur didn’t want to date him for real. It was Matt’s fault, obviously. Well…mostly. Okay, so maybe he’d just pointed things out, but Alfred was going to blame him anyway. Matt knew Alfred better than he knew himself anyway, and it was his fault (help) that made Alfred stop and think about how he saw Arthur. How he wanted to see him.
Matt had brought up some very good points while they’d been half-yelling at each other over the topic. Like why did Alfred feel the need to goof around like Arthur was already his boyfriend or something? And why was he so protective and shocked when rumors went around about Arthur and Francis maybe being together? And what was he going to do when Arthur graduated at the end of the year?
It had been that last one that made Alfred really snap out of it. Because he realized he would really, legitimately miss Arthur when he was gone. And you didn’t start feeling pits in your stomach thinking about some guy who didn’t matter. That had been followed by a vicious bout of denial, in which Alfred stupidly told Matt that even if Arthur were gay, it wouldn’t be for him, and Matt laughed his ass off (rather rudely, Alfred thought) at the assertion that Arthur wasn’t at the very least bisexual.
As for himself, Alfred had never really cared to think about his preferences. Certain people were attractive, and he didn’t tend to look at people’s reproductive parts before deciding whether he liked them or not, so he didn’t really see the point. Then again, that was probably also a product of being raised in a household where the main rule was that everyone was brother and sister to everyone else and that love should be expressed in any way you wanted. So it had never been much of an issue.
Come to think of it, the only issue had been whoever had mouthed off to Arthur about Alfred not being really interested in him. Alfred hadn’t managed to get out of the older boy who it was, but he had his suspicions and just threw the ball and tackled people extra hard in the following practice, just for good measure.
But at least something good had come from it. Arthur had admitted (sorta) that he wanted this to work like a real relationship. For the longest time, Alfred had been kicking himself for just up and kissing Arthur that first day. He’d just been acting on impulse, and Arthur had said to make a move anyway, but…it felt kind of rude in hindsight. Of course, it had also been an experiment. He’d established that Arthur was more than just a guy he liked messing with at that point, but kissing him had made it clear that Alfred was actually kind of attracted to him.
More than kind of, he thought, killing the engine outside Arthur’s house. His heartbeat had skyrocketed the moment their lips touched and even though he knew it wasn’t a particularly good kiss, it was better than any kiss he’d ever had until that point. Mostly because when he thought about it, it just made him sit back and think Wow. Arthur. And then sort of tingle all over.
Matt said that was love, then called him stupid for taking so long about realizing it, but it didn’t really matter what he thought at that point. Alfred knew Arthur was something special, because he’d had crushes on girls, and dated, but he’d never got all tingly from just a very botched kiss and he hadn’t been fascinated by anyone else for his entire high school career like he had with Arthur. And he didn’t think he could possibly miss someone as much as he would miss Arthur when he graduated.
So this, this date and this year, were his last chance. Maybe he didn’t exactly plan as far as going to college together or getting an apartment (for god’s sake, he was seventeen!), but Alfred knew enough to see he didn’t want Arthur to go. He’d do whatever he had to so that Arthur would at least keep in contact with him when he left, even if Alfred was forced to give up on dating him for a while.
This wasn’t helping, Alfred thought suddenly. Here he was, sitting outside of Arthur’s house, thinking. When he could be going inside and taking Arthur out to dinner and sweeping him off his feet. How stupid.
Alfred made his way up the porch steps quickly, then got stuck on the door, biting his lip at it for a second. He kind of wished he’d checked his appearance before getting out of the car, but it’d just have to do. He rang the doorbell anyway, smoothing his hair down with his fingers in a hopefully decent-looking way.
There were pounding footsteps and the faint sound of raised voices before Arthur answered the door, a little out of breath. His breathing immediately stalled, and Alfred felt a grin crawl over his face when Arthur’s eyes did a slower than usual up-and-down. He wasn’t arrogant enough to be attracted to himself or anything, but Alfred looked damn good if he said so himself. Apparently black slacks made his legs look longer and the belt plus the tucked in shirt showed off his slim waist. And leaving the top button undone was a good idea. Arthur’s eyes caught on it for a second, and that alone made it worthwhile.
Arthur, though, was dressed pretty much as he usually was. White, long-sleeved collared shirt over tan corduroys and finished off with a dark green sweater vest. Sure it looked cute on him, but Alfred was going for nice-looking tonight, not conservative old man.
“You-”
“Arthur, that’s what you wear every day,” Alfred said, cutting him off. “Come on, you gotta wear something special for a date!”
Arthur’s face colored slightly, and all of a sudden, a taller boy was standing in the doorway behind him, redheaded and freckle-faced. The other boy shoved Arthur lightly forward with an elbow, and Arthur staggered a bit before whipping around to glower at him.
“Is this the guy?” the other boy (Arthur’s brother, Alfred assumed) asked pointedly staring at him.
“Oh, sod off and mind your own business,” Arthur replied, not denying it. Alfred controlled the urge to smile slightly.
His brother only gave Arthur a crooked grin back. “Don’t you think you should humor the boy, Artie? I mean, he’s dressed up all nice for your ungrateful arse.”
The urge to smile died. Yeah, maybe they were brothers, but something in Alfred’s chest curled angrily at hearing Arthur being made fun of by someone other than him. Jesus Christ, he was this protective and it took him that long to realize? He must be about as dense as Matt and Arthur always said.
Arthur grumbled, punched his brother in the arm, then turned to Alfred. “You’re welcome to come in if you like, but I’d advise you wait outside if you don’t want this lot hassling you. I’ll be quick.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Alfred assured him quickly. “I’ll just, uh, wait in here for you then.”
Arthur nodded rapidly, eyeing his brother suspiciously before turning to head upstairs. He pointedly ignored the muttered comment about being lucky their mother wasn’t home, and Alfred chose to let it slide. It wasn’t his family business anyway.
“Come on in,” the older boy said, gesturing Alfred inside. “Why don’t you take a seat and tell us a bit about yourself? Quarterback of the football team, right?”
Alfred accepted the invitation, following him inside to a living room where another guy was already half-sprawled across the couch, clearly older but not quite parent aged, with hair that was a cross between his two brothers’ with some brown tossed in, showing more in his stubble and sideburns. He sat up when Alfred walked in, making room for his brother on the couch. Alfred took the seat across from them in an armchair.
“I’m Alfred,” he started. “Though Arthur’s probably told you that much-”
“Nope,” the eldest brother interrupted, eyes on Alfred where they’d been on the TV on the opposite wall before. “The kid’s been pretty quiet about you. Probably for his and your safety.”
“Um…kay.” Alfred chose not to look too deeply into that comment. “So yeah, I’m on the football team, like you said, and uh, I’m a junior?”
The middle brother laughed a bit. “We don’t really care too much about your personal life, Alfred. Just needed time for Artie to get to his room and start fretting.”
Alfred felt distinctly not good about that comment for some reason. The two men shifted slightly, and somehow things became more tense on Alfred’s side of the room. The younger was now looking directly at him, half crouched over his knees to lean forward, the older brother apparently inspecting his nails or something.
“I’m Colin, and this is Sean,” the younger introduced. Sean, the older one, nodded and sat a bit forward, lazily rubbing a hand over his knuckles as his brother went on. “And we’re the two that’ll be damaging that pretty face of yours if something happens to our little Artie-kins.”
Alfred would have tried to defend himself if Sean hadn’t talked over him.
“Now we don’t want to scare you off or anything,” he assured in a tone that said that was exactly what they intended to do. Alfred bristled under the unspoken challenge. “But we’ve heard that you and Arthur didn’t get along fabulously up until now, and we just want to make sure you’re not…leading him on.”
“Y’see, Alfred,” Colin said, gesturing as if they were friends just speaking about everyday things. “Arthur’s kind of a bitch most of the time, but he’s moping and annoying when he gets depressed. And nobody wants to deal with that. Least of all us. So if you do right by our brother, we won’t have to smear you all over the ground, deal?”
Alfred full-on glared, which was rare for him, and set his hands firmly on his knees, leaning toward them instead of away. “Look, I dunno what you’ve heard about me, and I kinda don’t give a shit. The point is, I really care about Arthur. I’m not leading him on and I’m not looking to hurt him, okay?”
The brothers exchanged a blank look, and when they turned back to face Alfred, he’d started squirming in the tense silence. He didn’t want to just cower away from Arthur’s brothers, but the one was a bit bigger than him and the younger one looked scrappy. He could easily imagine them beating the living crap out of him if they felt he deserved it.
“Good answer,” Colin said finally. Alfred tried to make his sigh of relief as silent as possible, and the sound was thankfully covered by Colin standing and brushing invisible dust or something from his pants. “The squirt will be done soon. You want something to drink while you wait?”
“Uh…sure,” Alfred answered uncertainly. “Water?”
Colin rolled his eyes. “Not even a beer or something. Pansy Americans…”
“Hey! I’m seventeen!” Alfred defended. “That’s not even legal.”
“S’legal in Scotland,” Colin said, shrugging and heading for the kitchen. Sean stayed where he was, looking Alfred over critically until the younger boy had to ask what he was looking for.
“You seem like a good kid,” Sean answered finally, reclining back against the couch. “Arthur would probably say we hate him, but he’s our kid brother. We want what’s best for him, most days. You’d better be what’s best for him.”
Alfred grinned halfway. Finally, something that didn’t make him want to fight. “Yeah. I…I want to be. What’s best for him. If he’ll let me be. He’s stubborn as all hell.”
“Watch it,” Colin snapped, coming back with a glass of water that he shoved at Alfred. “Only family gets to criticize Arthur under this roof.”
Alfred hid his rolling eyes behind taking a sip of water. A few seconds, later, those pounding footsteps came down the stairs again and Arthur showed up. Alfred stood to meet him and grinned. Arthur was dressed in the same tan corduroys, but was now wearing a textured white shirt that dipped into a short V in the front and clung to his waist. Wrapped around his neck was a fluffy-looking black scarf, which Arthur half-buried his chin into when Alfred gave him a toothy smile. God, he was adorable, not to mention hot, under all that attitude.
“Can we go now?” he groused, tugging at Alfred’s elbow. He nodded, and let Arthur walk out first, but was stopped from following him by Sean’s hand on his shoulder. Alfred paused, noticing Arthur stop a few feet away out of the corner of his eye.
“I just want you to know,” Sean said quietly, not meant for Arthur to hear, “I have no problem going back to prison.” With that, he winked, patted Alfred’s shoulder, and told them to have a good time as he shut the front door behind the pair.
Alfred stood gaping at the door for long enough that Arthur got impatient and went after him. He snapped out of it the second Arthur touched his arm.
“What was that?” Arthur asked, sounding genuinely curious and just a touch annoyed.
“Uh…nothing,” Alfred answered after a second. This was between him and Arthur’s brothers. He was definitely gonna prove their threats useless. “Let’s just go. Wouldn’t wanna be late for the reservations, right?” He gave Arthur a winning smile, then looped his arm through Arthur’s before the older boy could react much.
Arthur stopped dead when he saw Alfred’s car, and Alfred silently congratulated himself on the slightly bug-eyed expression on his face.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Arthur replied. “This is your car?” His fingertips stroked over it lightly, almost reverent, and Alfred stomped down very hard on the mental image of Arthur splayed out over the hood, panting his name as light shined off the sleek metal behind him.
“Yep,” he answered, ignoring the turn his mind had taken straight into the gutter. “Well, not yet. It’s not technically mine until I graduate, but pretty much.” Alfred watched him admire the car, and eventually cleared his throat. “You wanna get in, or just stare at it?”
Arthur immediately snapped back to himself, eyes no longer that little bit too wide. “I hadn’t realized you’d already unlocked the bloody thing,” he blustered, getting in anyway and quickly buckling his seatbelt.
“Where are we going, anyway?” Arthur demanded when Alfred had started the car.
“The Macaroni Grill,” he answered, more focused on backing out of the driveway. “It’s actually really nice, trust me.”
Arthur made a grumpy noise, but didn’t contradict him. Instead, he asked about paying the bill, and they bantered for a while about whether Alfred would pay for everything or they would split the bill. The light argument continued all the way to the restaurant, where Arthur was too busy telling Alfred he was wrong to notice Alfred helping him out of the car and not quite dropping his hand once they started walking in.
He did have to notice eventually though, and Arthur dropped Alfred’s hand when he went to gesture and found his hand still in Alfred’s grip.
“Don’t do that,” he muttered, face turning the slightest bit pink in a way Alfred thought was probably the cutest thing ever.
“What?” he asked innocently. “Hold your hand? Or not warn you about it before I do it?”
“That,” Arthur answered, crossing his arms. “Both. Oh, go tell them we’re here, you idiot!”
Alfred obeyed, smiling, and came back to grab Arthur around the elbow instead when he led the way after their waiter. Arthur only protested a little bit, but eventually let himself be dragged. They’d got a semi-private table, probably thanks to Elizabeta, who Alfred had found out worked here and who had been ever so supportive of Alfred taking Arthur out to eat at a nice place. She wasn’t working tonight (thank God, because she was a bit too helpful), but she’d had a hand in setting their reservations, Alfred was sure.
Arthur looked a little embarrassed to be seated somewhere they couldn’t exactly avoid being seen as a couple, so Alfred took it upon himself to lighten the mood. He knocked his knee into Arthur’s under the table, earning himself a scowl, but a loosening in the tension in Arthur’s shoulders.
“Nobody’s gonna look at you if you don’t make a big deal out of it,” Alfred said, grinning easily. “Just talk to me, okay? Tell me how I’m an ass for treating you like a girl with the money thing.”
“You are an ass,” Arthur said, but almost-smiled after a second. “We’re splitting the bill here, I hope you know. I can’t expect a minor to spend all the money you should be putting into a college fund.”
“Um, Arthur,” he said, trying not to laugh. “Allow me to introduce you to my dad the government employee and his large salary. I don’t need to worry about paying for college.”
Arthur scowled a little. “You would be rich, wouldn’t you?” he said, rolling his eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alfred asked, knocking into Arthur’s knee again, and starting a bit of an under-the-table war with him.
“You. Quarterback, poster boy looks, nice car, popular with practically everyone,” Arthur said, sounding less annoyed than he might have a few weeks ago. “It would figure that you’re going to have it easy going into college. Everything else about you is perfect.”
Alfred’s smile grew slowly larger. “I’m flattered you think I’m perfect, Artie. But I’m not all that special. Just nearly perfect.”
“I…I didn’t mean you’re perfect,” Arthur tried to cover quickly. “I simply meant you lead a charmed life. You’ve certainly got your work cut out for you in the humility department as well as most of your studies. Speaking of which, I wanted to ask you about that offer to help me out in chemistry.”
They shifted into talking about school after that, and the conversation drifted into Alfred’s love of science after they’d placed their orders. Arthur probably didn’t know he was giving Alfred this really soft, pretty smile, but Alfred wasn’t going to ruin it by saying anything. Instead, he continued on his tangent about Pluto.
“I mean, they should totally let it be a planet!” he said enthusiastically. “Yeah, it’s got a weird orbit, but it still orbits the sun in one plane. I think the atmosphere things shouldn’t be taken so much into account either. Have you seen Jupiter? It’s a ball of gas, for Christ’s sake! How can we even determine whether it has a real atmosphere?”
Whatever Arthur was going to say in reply to that was cut off by the arrival of their meal. Alfred tried to keep talking, mostly because that was what he was used to doing, but Arthur kicked him in the shin and demanded he act properly. So instead, Arthur talked between adorably dignified bites while Alfred ate a bit too enthusiastically to really get a word in without offending Arthur’s propriety.
“It’s not as if I don’t enjoy down time,” Arthur said, having finished a mouthful of linguine. “There’s just simply so much to do at school.”
Alfred made an mhmm noise of agreement, nodding in case Arthur didn’t hear him.
“You know what it’s like,” Arthur went on. “Dealing with all the demands of students, and organizing events, and going to all your bloody games.”
Alfred swallowed. “I’d ask if you’re gonna come to ‘em for me from now on, but I know you have to go anyway, so I’ll just pretend if you don’t wanna admit it.”
The older teen looked scandalized as Alfred winked at him, digging into his meal again. “Well, if you didn’t act so stupidly confident that I’m showing up for you, maybe I’d- er. Show up…for you.” Alfred was grinning uncontrollably when Arthur looked up from staring embarrassedly at his plate. Alfred figured the bread roll tossed at his head was worth the admission anyway.
They got a talk from the manager when Arthur wouldn’t stop throwing things at Alfred for real or imagined insults. It was Alfred’s dodging a cracker that hit some woman behind him that did them in. Arthur blamed Alfred for it, of course, and it started a small bickering match that ended in Arthur laughing in a very undignified manner at Alfred’s impression of the beefy manager.
Somehow, they made through the dinner without getting kicked out, and Arthur looked like he was just about on the verge of admitting (maybe even out loud) that he’d had a good time. But Alfred had to ruin it by opening his big mouth. But…he just couldn’t resist. And Arthur was in the car anyway, so it wasn’t like he could escape. He probably wouldn’t hit Alfred while he was driving either, which was a plus.
“You know,” Alfred started conversationally when they’d gotten onto the freeway toward the theater. “You’re still the closest thing we have to cheerleaders, Mr. President. Maybe you should just make it official and be my personal cheering section.”
The uncomfortably comfortable expression dropped off Arthur’s face in a flash to be replaced with that angry face where his eyebrows twitched, and Alfred couldn’t help laughing.
“I would never do such a thing!” he asserted vehemently. “You’re pushing things even assuming I’d be there to watch your sorry arse play. I show up to fulfill my duties as student body president. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Aw, c’mon,” Alfred wheedled, keeping his eyes on the road instead of giving in to temptation and turning a completely shit-eating grin at Arthur. “You know you’d look hot in a mini skirt.”
Alfred was wrong. Arthur would totally hit him while he was driving. It was just easier to get him to stop by yelling that he was operating a vehicle. Though that probably would have gotten results faster if Alfred wasn’t laughing. He’d been asking for that one. Unashamedly asking for it. But that image…it was too delicious to pass up thinking about, and Alfred knew very well his brain-to-mouth filter often went on the blink with Arthur involved.
Arthur refused to be helped out of the car this time around, but he let Alfred pay for the tickets as they’d agreed over dinner. Alfred tried not to bug him too much while getting popcorn, and even let Arthur gripe at him for a while about how they’d just eaten and he shouldn’t even be hungry yet. By the time the smaller teen was done ranting, he looked more relaxed and Alfred started walking closer to him as they made their way to the movie theater.
They’d agreed sometime during the school week that even thought they were two guys going on a date, seeing a chick flick like Easy A was just a little too gay. Instead, they’d settled on Scott Pilgrim vs the World. Alfred had heard it was made from a comic book and/or videogame, so it had to be a little less girly than his previous choice, even if the first one had been sort-of-not-quite based on literature.
Turned out the movie was kind of perfect. It had enough action to keep Alfred entertained and enough dry humor to make Arthur audibly laugh at some points. He didn’t even notice when he started leaning closer to Alfred to reach for a few handfuls of popcorn. Alfred noticed, but didn’t say anything. You had to be careful with Arthur if you didn’t want him to get spooked and go running off to his little corner.
Still, there was one line that was so beautifully obnoxious that Alfred could hardly contain himself from blurting it out at Arthur right away. Instead, exercising what he thought of as valiant, heroic restraint, Alfred waited until the movie was over and Arthur had started talking about what he thought of it.
“Clearly, Wallace was the best part of the movie. Ramona was refreshingly not desperate for men’s approval, though I can’t say much for that Knives girl,” Arthur said, scowling absently at the air or something. “What did you think of the- um. Alfred?”
Arthur had turned to look at him and caught sight of the huge cheesy smile he’d been sporting for the past few minutes.
“What?” he demanded when no answer was forthcoming and Alfred’s grin only seemed to widen to epic proportions.
“I totally wanna have your adopted babies.”
Just as predicted, Arthur turned bright red within seconds and started pummeling Alfred’s shoulder, first with a fist then repeated open palms smacking him. Alfred laughed and shielded himself, even though it didn’t really hurt. Arthur ignored his defense that he was just kidding and continued to slap at him until Alfred caught his wrists.
Arthur flailed a little bit when Alfred pulled him outside, but he ended up falling into Alfred’s chest, so it was more than okay. The taller of the two still had Arthur’s wrists in his hands, so he pulled them up to rest Arthur’s arms around his shoulders. He’d gone quiet, and Alfred felt his smile soften when Arthur didn’t immediately move away.
“So tonight wasn’t too horrible?” he asked quietly, not wanting to break the mood he actually fully appreciated was there and very breakable. Slowly, so slowly he hoped Arthur wouldn’t notice, Alfred lifted his hands to rest lightly on Arthur’s waist.
“It…” he trailed off, then started up again, somehow looking fascinated to see Alfred this close-up. “It wasn’t nearly as horrible as it might have been.”
Alfred stroked a thumb over Arthur’s body where he imagined he could feel the end of his ribcage through his shirt. He almost forgot how tiny Arthur was sometimes, being as huffy and bristly and ever-present as he was in Alfred’s experience. The only sign that Arthur noticed his motion was a slight tensing of Arthur’s arms where they stayed slung around Alfred’s shoulders.
“So,” Alfred started, but stopped quickly. He tried again with “uh”, but any fully formed sentences seemed unable to make it past his lips. Apparently besides making his brain-to-mouth filter go all wacky, Arthur could short circuit all connections from brain to speaking. There was just… He was right there, and not even moving away. And Alfred could feel Arthur’s breath on his mouth, and Arthur still had that fuzzy scarf wrapped around his neck and it kind of made Alfred want to bury his face in it and see which was softer, the scarf or Arthur’s skin.
Arthur wasn’t moving. He seemed kind of in a trance or something, actually. His eyes kept making little zips back and forth, like he was watching Alfred’s face or his eyes for something important to show up there. Alfred gulped and hoped Arthur was finding whatever he was looking for. But they could very well wind up standing here forever, despite the fact that it was getting chilly (Arthur was really warm).
“D’you, uh, want to just…drive around?” Alfred made himself say eventually. Arthur looked at him for a long second, eyes finally stilling, before his arms slid off and away from Alfred.
“Let’s.” And he walked with Alfred back to the car, the both of them still quieter than usual even as Alfred struck up a small conversation about something - he wasn’t paying enough attention to the topic to really remember it.
Things slid a little back to normal when Arthur started fiddling with the car’s radio and eventually settled on a station playing Muse. They had a short discussion about music they liked, up until Arthur found out Alfred had a nearly unhealthy love of the Beatles and proceeded to use it against him. Arthur was merciless when he was the one with teasing material, but it also made him wear this really attractive smirk, so Alfred was more flustered by that than any verbal prodding he was receiving.
Eventually, they made it to a bit of highway that twisted to overlook hills and stars in both the sky and the city lights below, and Arthur tugged Alfred’s arms until he pulled over. Making half-sarcastic comments about being cliché and cheesy, Alfred put down the convertible top before plopping himself back in the driver’s seat and looking out at the night-time view.
“It’s a lot prettier from up here,” Alfred mused after a few moments.
Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. “You would start talking to ruin the peace, wouldn’t you?” he turned to give Alfred a scathing glower, but the intended effect was lost. His eyes just looked to sparkly and-
“You’re prettier right now, too,” he blurted before he could stop himself.
A few things worked their way over Arthur’s expression. Surprise, a small bit of pleasure, thoughtfulness, and finally settling into a frown.
“Don’t say that,” he snapped, not yet looking away, but crossing his arms protectively over his chest. “We’re sitting in the dark and you can barely see more than half my face. Even if you were trying to be romantic, you’ve completely botched it.”
“No,” Alfred replied, frowning a bit himself. “You’ve got it wrong. I meant that, well, with just the moon and stars, all the light that’s bouncing off your eyes is from that stuff, and it looks like you’ve got all of the universe in your eyes.”
Arthur blinked, and the frown faded backward into thoughtfulness and then even further back into looking pleased and a little surprised.
“And it’s pretty,” Alfred finished, somewhat lamely, he thought. Still, Arthur didn’t look offended or disappointed or something, so that was good. And well, this was his last chance to spend time with Arthur like this if Arthur wasn’t impressed after tonight, so he decided to just go for it.
“Can I kiss you?” Alfred didn’t realize his voice would come out so quiet, but after a second, Arthur nodded anyway. Alfred shifted forward in his seat, seatbelt already undone, and steadily brought himself closer to Arthur until, all of a sudden, they were kissing and he wasn’t sure if he’d closed the last bit of space or Arthur had.
It wasn’t like the first time he’d kissed Arthur, and it wasn’t like the heated making out in the music room. This was slower, and not quite dry like the first time, not nearly as wet and sloppy as the second. Arthur’s mouth just kind of softened against his, and they fit right together.
Arthur tipped his head, and even though there wasn’t any tongue involved, their lips slipped against each other, pushing and giving so that the shape of their mouths reformed around each other and Alfred felt an involuntary shiver go up his spine. Arthur’s bottom lips caught on his and then they were sort of breathing together, space between where they had been molded together allowing air to slip in.
He backed up a hair’s breadth, but then was back, hand cupping Arthur’s jaw to turn him just slightly and fit his lips a little sideways against Arthur’s so that there was no more space. Arthur made something like a noise and a breath against Alfred’s mouth, and then pressed into him. Both of Arthur’s hands came up to fist in his hair, and Alfred was slowly, gently pulled forward as Arthur leaned back.
Not so suddenly, but still surprisingly, Arthur wound up leaned into the car door, half laying down with Alfred pulled on top of him. Still kissing open-mouthed but without the mess of tongues, Alfred wound a hand in Arthur’s scarf and tugged it open, sliding his hand between the material and the warm skin of Arthur’s neck.
The smaller teen groaned softly and arched up a little toward him, finally running the tip of his tongue slowly over Alfred’s bottom lip. Their mouths were already open to each other, so the transition wasn’t much before Alfred was slipping his tongue over Arthur’s, exploring the soft feeling of his mouth.
One of Arthur’s hands travelled a steady path from Alfred’s hair down to clutch at his shirt, tugging the material where it was still tucked neatly into his pants. With a little grunt, Arthur pulled the shirt free and then his fingertips were on Alfred’s skin at the dip of his back. Alfred shivered a little at the cold air hitting his skin, and a little belatedly, realized he was semi-making out with Arthur in the open air in his parked car on some back road.
It seemed when he’d paused at that realization, Arthur had picked up on it, and almost simultaneously, they stilled by increments. Finally, Alfred had his closed lips pressed against Arthur’s again, and his shirt had been smoothed back down (somewhat haphazardly) past the waist of his pants.
“We should go,” Arthur said, and Alfred nodded, levering himself up and back into the driver’s seat. He watched Arthur pull his scarf back into place out of the corner of his eye, but mostly focused on pushing the button to bring the top back up. It would be too cold to drive with it down, especially without the warmth of Arthur that had been keeping Alfred from noticing how chilly it had gotten outside.
The car ride back was mostly silent, but not in an awkward way. It was kind of like…they were both thinking about the same things, but didn’t need to talk just yet. Alfred noticed Arthur playing with the edges of his shirt and scarf every so often, but it seemed like an excuse to have something to do with his hands while he thought rather than an attempt to dispel nervousness.
As for Alfred…he’d done his best, and he was almost positive at this point even Arthur couldn’t deny there was something between them. It hadn’t even been a super romantic night for the most part, but they’d enjoyed each other’s company and had a good time. And the romantic part was- Well. Like he said, even Arthur couldn’t deny something was there after that.
They didn’t spend too much time dilly dallying in the car once they got to Arthur’s house. Alfred bailed out of the car pretty fast and got Arthur’s door for him though, which got him a wry smile and rolled eyes. Which was pretty much Arthur’s facial language of saying ‘I’m fond of you for reasons beyond me’. So Alfred smiled back.
Then came the moment of truth. Dropping your date off at the door. And despite the fact that they’d already kissed quite enthusiastically before, Alfred was more nervous about the potential goodbye-at-the-door kiss.
“Well, I, uh, had a good time,” Alfred said, mentally kicking himself because there was no way that didn’t sound awkward.
“I did too,” Arthur replied, so fast Alfred was sure he was getting it out before he could talk himself out of it. “So,” he went on, “I’ll see you on Monday then?”
“Of course,” the younger teen replied, beaming. “And I was wondering, by the way, do you have texting?”
“Yes,” Arthur answered uncertainly. “Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” Alfred idly wondered if Arthur would completely freak out if he texted Arthur that he might be a little bit in lesbians with him. He nixed the idea pretty fast. Too soon. “I guess this is goodnight then.”
Arthur watched him carefully, then appeared to get fed up and let out a heavy sigh. “Just kiss me already if you’re going to do it,” he demanded.
Alfred couldn’t resist laughing at his silly mixed signals, even though they’d pretty much become loud and clear to Alfred by now. He stepped forward, holding Arthur in place with a hand on his upper arm, and leaned into him. Arthur turned his head to meet him in a kiss, but Alfred changed direction at the last minute and left a kiss on his cheek instead.
Arthur was staring at him in a mix of confusion and what Alfred hoped was disappointment when he stepped back. He kept stepping back until he made his way off the porch, speaking to Arthur as he walked away.
“Always leave ‘em wanting more.”