[Sweethearts Week - Young Love] First Date
Title: First Date
Genre: romance
Word Count: 884
Rating/Warnings: un-beta'd, hurriedly written
Summary: The somewhat awkward ending to Alfred and Arthur's first official date.
Arthur did not want to explicitly say that it had been terribly, unutterably awkward, but really there was no other way to say it. Somehow, the maître at the restaurant they’d gone to had inferred them to be a couple-unsurprising, Arthur supposed, as they had been throwing nervous looks at each other out of the corners of their eyes, unable to discern the thoughts of the other, suddenly; though perhaps they never had been able to, they just thought they did. Alfred’s thought processes seemed entirely alien to him now. (Showing up at his door in nice clothes, with flowers? It was all so new to him-coming from Alfred, at least).
They had seated the two of them in a fairly, almost uncomfortably private nook of the restaurant, with only two booths and a pervasive silence untouched by the noise of the rest of the dining room. They had made small, petty conversation for a long while-business mostly, which was odd, because usually shop talk was the last thing on their minds. By the end of the meal they were slightly more raucous, laughing and joking, but they were both still hyper-aware of the other’s every move, and its every possible implication. By the time they left the restaurant, Arthur’s nerves were frayed from over-analyzing Alfred’s every movement, every glance, every accidental, fleeting touch.
As Alfred pulled up by Arthur’s driveway-Alfred was staying at a hotel, he had a meeting back home tomorrow and his flight was early-an uneasy, crawling silence crept over them. Alfred put the car in park and put his hands in his lap, looking out at Arthur’s house. Arthur followed his gaze-the house looked somewhat dreary and stolid in the gentle drizzle, it’s shaded windows like half-lidded eyes looking out over the street.
“Thank you,” Arthur said suddenly, almost surprising himself. When Alfred’s head snapped to him, he suddenly felt as if he’d said something stupid. “For… the date, I suppose,” he said hurriedly. “I… had a good time.”
Alfred’s grin was wide, as he nodded. “No problem,” he said, in a casual tone that made it sound like a standard response.
Arthur reached decidedly for the door handle, faltering only when he had pulled it, feeling like he was leaving loose ends. The door sort of fell open on its own, bouncing slightly against the hinge, and Arthur could feel the cool air and light, damp rain against his leg. In that moment, as he sat still, debating with himself, Alfred spoke.
“I won’t see you for three weeks.” His tone was despondent and dejected, and when Arthur turned to him, his face was turned down slightly, looking up at Arthur from under his brow. There was an expression in his eyes that made Arthur’s stomach coil with nerves-a mix of vulnerability, slight amusement, and a request for something that Arthur fully understood but wasn’t sure he could give without something in him dying of embarrassment.
“I know,” Arthur said, flustered, his tone matching Alfred’s, and he turned away slightly as if moving to get out of the car. He didn’t move, though, and having no explanation for leaving the door open, he turned reluctantly back to Alfred.
The expression was still there, only it seemed to implore him even more, and Arthur’s stomach twisted, almost painfully. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks it all to sodding hell, fucking, sodding bollocks. He knew what Alfred wanted, what he wanted, even-though they couldn’t possibly be the same things, could they?-and knew he should give it to him, knew he wanted to, but…
Dammit.
He leaned over the armrest quickly, and the both of them moved at the same time, amazingly, and Arthur realized how much they’d both been waiting for it to happen. They didn’t crash into each other, but landed together firmly, pleasantly, fitting better than Arthur could have anticipated. The first alerting sensation was the wetness of Alfred’s lips, how they sort of spread over his warmly. It was brief, and they made a satisfying smacking sound as they parted, and though Arthur turned away quickly to climb out of the car, he caught Alfred’s smirk in the corner of his eye.
The cool air and drizzle hit his cheeks, and he realized how hot they were as the rain cooled them. “See you in three weeks, then,” he said awkwardly, his voice higher than he’d intended it to be. Alfred just smiled widely, that absurd grin of his, as Arthur slammed the car door shut and moved to his front door. He turned slightly when he reached the front door, just in time to see Alfred leaning out the open window of his truck with that grin wide on his face, yelling “I love you!” louder than he needed to for Arthur to hear.
Arthur waved as he turned out to drive away, swerving at the last minute onto the right side of the road, and pulling away. Arthur felt cooler now, in the cold air, with the rain diffusing the heat in his face, but the feeling of Alfred’s lips remained on his, as if burned there, and he made no move to remove it with his hand, only smiling into it as he turned to go into his house.
For the usxuk 2010 Sweethearts Week prompt "Young Love." Thanks for reading!
Genre: romance
Word Count: 884
Rating/Warnings: un-beta'd, hurriedly written
Summary: The somewhat awkward ending to Alfred and Arthur's first official date.
Arthur did not want to explicitly say that it had been terribly, unutterably awkward, but really there was no other way to say it. Somehow, the maître at the restaurant they’d gone to had inferred them to be a couple-unsurprising, Arthur supposed, as they had been throwing nervous looks at each other out of the corners of their eyes, unable to discern the thoughts of the other, suddenly; though perhaps they never had been able to, they just thought they did. Alfred’s thought processes seemed entirely alien to him now. (Showing up at his door in nice clothes, with flowers? It was all so new to him-coming from Alfred, at least).
They had seated the two of them in a fairly, almost uncomfortably private nook of the restaurant, with only two booths and a pervasive silence untouched by the noise of the rest of the dining room. They had made small, petty conversation for a long while-business mostly, which was odd, because usually shop talk was the last thing on their minds. By the end of the meal they were slightly more raucous, laughing and joking, but they were both still hyper-aware of the other’s every move, and its every possible implication. By the time they left the restaurant, Arthur’s nerves were frayed from over-analyzing Alfred’s every movement, every glance, every accidental, fleeting touch.
As Alfred pulled up by Arthur’s driveway-Alfred was staying at a hotel, he had a meeting back home tomorrow and his flight was early-an uneasy, crawling silence crept over them. Alfred put the car in park and put his hands in his lap, looking out at Arthur’s house. Arthur followed his gaze-the house looked somewhat dreary and stolid in the gentle drizzle, it’s shaded windows like half-lidded eyes looking out over the street.
“Thank you,” Arthur said suddenly, almost surprising himself. When Alfred’s head snapped to him, he suddenly felt as if he’d said something stupid. “For… the date, I suppose,” he said hurriedly. “I… had a good time.”
Alfred’s grin was wide, as he nodded. “No problem,” he said, in a casual tone that made it sound like a standard response.
Arthur reached decidedly for the door handle, faltering only when he had pulled it, feeling like he was leaving loose ends. The door sort of fell open on its own, bouncing slightly against the hinge, and Arthur could feel the cool air and light, damp rain against his leg. In that moment, as he sat still, debating with himself, Alfred spoke.
“I won’t see you for three weeks.” His tone was despondent and dejected, and when Arthur turned to him, his face was turned down slightly, looking up at Arthur from under his brow. There was an expression in his eyes that made Arthur’s stomach coil with nerves-a mix of vulnerability, slight amusement, and a request for something that Arthur fully understood but wasn’t sure he could give without something in him dying of embarrassment.
“I know,” Arthur said, flustered, his tone matching Alfred’s, and he turned away slightly as if moving to get out of the car. He didn’t move, though, and having no explanation for leaving the door open, he turned reluctantly back to Alfred.
The expression was still there, only it seemed to implore him even more, and Arthur’s stomach twisted, almost painfully. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks it all to sodding hell, fucking, sodding bollocks. He knew what Alfred wanted, what he wanted, even-though they couldn’t possibly be the same things, could they?-and knew he should give it to him, knew he wanted to, but…
Dammit.
He leaned over the armrest quickly, and the both of them moved at the same time, amazingly, and Arthur realized how much they’d both been waiting for it to happen. They didn’t crash into each other, but landed together firmly, pleasantly, fitting better than Arthur could have anticipated. The first alerting sensation was the wetness of Alfred’s lips, how they sort of spread over his warmly. It was brief, and they made a satisfying smacking sound as they parted, and though Arthur turned away quickly to climb out of the car, he caught Alfred’s smirk in the corner of his eye.
The cool air and drizzle hit his cheeks, and he realized how hot they were as the rain cooled them. “See you in three weeks, then,” he said awkwardly, his voice higher than he’d intended it to be. Alfred just smiled widely, that absurd grin of his, as Arthur slammed the car door shut and moved to his front door. He turned slightly when he reached the front door, just in time to see Alfred leaning out the open window of his truck with that grin wide on his face, yelling “I love you!” louder than he needed to for Arthur to hear.
Arthur waved as he turned out to drive away, swerving at the last minute onto the right side of the road, and pulling away. Arthur felt cooler now, in the cold air, with the rain diffusing the heat in his face, but the feeling of Alfred’s lips remained on his, as if burned there, and he made no move to remove it with his hand, only smiling into it as he turned to go into his house.
For the usxuk 2010 Sweethearts Week prompt "Young Love." Thanks for reading!