[Hetalia] Laid in Stone [1/4]
Title: Laid in Stone [1/4]
Author/Artist: Sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): USxUK with a side of Franada
Rating: So far, PG, though it'll probably climb it's way up to a pretty little R by the end.
Warnings: Um... Arthur checking Alfred out excessively? AU. Some swearing. Possible OOC.
Summary: Moving into a new house is never easy. This is especially true in the case of one Arthur Kirkland, who simply cannot keep his eyes to himself.
A/n: I really wanted to finish this whole thing in time for Valentine's Day, and then just post all of it at the same time (in multiple posts of acceptable size that would make it seem shorter than it actually is), but... Well, this story, which I originally intended to be a fairly moderate-length one-shot, ran away with itself, and I could do nothing but follow, and at the rate it's currently going it'll be novella-length by the time I'm done. Imaginations should come with leashes.
Arthur Kirkland looked at the somewhat decrepit house he was in the process of moving into and wondered why he was bothering with it. It was the family house, the one his father and his father’s father before him had grown up in. It was the one inherited by the childless uncle he’d never met. It was the house that he’d somehow inherited despite being the second youngest sibling in his family. His brothers and sister had probably refused it. He could see why they might.
But, in any case, it was his now. It was an unhelpful distance from where his publishing company was located and living here would surely make meeting with his editor a massive chore. Still, at least here he didn’t have a loud French flat mate who liked to keep him up with his loud French sex. He could decorate it however he wanted and have his own garden, too.
That is to say, he could have his own garden if he could find the ground first. It was a big if.
His deceased uncle clearly hadn’t thought much of lawn maintenance. Weeds and wild grasses that reached his waist dominated the landscape, and he could tell exactly where his property ended and his neighbors’ began because they had well-kept lawns. This was positively unsightly.
‘I suppose I’d better invest in a lawnmower then,’ Arthur thought with a tired sigh as he walked into the house. It was mostly empty, but for the boxes of possessions he’d just brought in and his mattress on the living room floor. The walls were old with smoke stains and water marks, the wallpaper peeling in some places. The floors were dull wood paneling. Everything seemed to have a layer of dust on it and he could see mold in the corner where he assumed a couch had once been, as the wallpaper was less faded in that corner. There were in fact many such patches of bright color surrounded by sun-bleached paper.
Arthur took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and rolled up his sleeves.
“Right. Well, this comes first then.”
000
“Ah, mon anglais, you’ve done wonders with your new place, really-“ Arthur slammed the door shut in Francis’ face. Yes, they were flat mates and drinking buddies, but that didn’t mean he liked the French bastard. And it certainly didn’t mean that he was allowed to visit Arthur in his new home while he was still working on it.
There was silence for a moment, but Arthur knew better than to believe Francis had left without putting up a fight. He was proved right when someone started politely knocking on the door. Well, that certainly couldn’t be Francis, maybe there was someone else out there that he hadn’t seen?
Opening the door again, he allowed himself to smile a small bit when he saw Matthew on the doorstep. He had been an underclassman of Francis and himself when they’d been in college, as well as Francis’ lover. He and Arthur were on very good terms, even if his taste in men was questionable.
“Hello Arthur. Sorry for the early morning visit, but I’ve brought pancakes to make up for it. Well, pancake batter, anyway.” Matthew held up a Tupperware bowl filled with the aforementioned batter and a bottle of maple syrup as though they were peace offerings. Arthur stepped aside and let the Canadian in, only to slam the door shut again when Francis tried to enter behind him. He hooked the chain lock before opening the door and speaking through the crack.
“You, frog, are to keep your mitts to yourself in my house, understand?” Boy, did it feel empowering to have his own house.
“Oui, je comprends. You have my word as a Frenchman that-”
“-Lot of good that is. Just behave yourself while you’re here.” Arthur rolled his eyes as he undid the chain again and opened the door fully for Francis. Well, if nothing else, at least his house guests could make good food.
000
“Mon Dieu, this house is truly disgusting…” Francis had been moaning and groaning since Arthur first roped him and Matthew into helping him clean. He’d already spent a week trying to clean the house himself, and at the moment only his kitchen was clean enough to use. He was thankful he’d worked on that first, as both Francis and Matthew were unbearable when it came to an unkempt kitchen.
“Oh, belt up would you? It’s just a bit of dust.”
“Dust and mold and all sorts of grime… It’s not fit to live in.” Francis wrinkled his nose in distaste at that spot of mold in the corner Arthur had seen fit to assign him to. Matthew sighed as he helped Arthur peel away the wallpaper.
“This does look like it’s going to take a long time… Arthur, you sure you can take off this much time from work? We could come over to help you again until you get the place cleaned up, if you’d like.”
“That’d be lovely Matthew, thank you. Really, you are much too good for the sniveling prat you dragged here.” Matthew just smiled awkwardly at the comment; he got that a lot.
“Then we’ll be by tomorrow, same time?” Matthew slowly pulled a strip of paper off the wall; he seemed to be having a much better time of it than Arthur.
“That sounds good, thank you.” Arthur sighed as he finally got a particularly stubborn piece of paper off; dear Lord there was another layer underneath it. “I…I think we’ve done all we can for the day though.”
“I would certainly agree with you there!” Francis was quick to move away from his spot, stand up and brush the dust from his clothes. “Well, it was pleasant working with you, but we really must be on our way. You understand, don’t you?”
Arthur just shook his head and sighed at his “friend’s” obvious desire to be gone from this hell hole of a house. ‘Honestly, with friends like these…’
“Yes, yes, I understand. Now get your frog arse out of my house,” Arthur said, shoving Francis in the general direction of his front door. Turning to Matthew, he said in a much kinder tone, “Feel free to come by when the house is finished, if you’d like.”
The two gathered their coats and Tupperware, leaving the syrup behind for the next day. Arthur showed them to the door like a proper host, but before he could close it Matthew stopped him.
“Uh… I know you’ve still got a lot of work to do on the inside of the house, but…” The Canadian looked around the front lawn, still wild and overgrown as the day Arthur arrived. “If you want any help with the outside, give this number a call, alright?” Matthew handed Arthur a business card, “His rates are pretty low and he’ll do as good a job as any big business, better I’d say.”
Arthur looked at Matthew for a second before looking at the card. ‘Jones Family Landscaping Inc…? Hm.’
“Thank you Matthew, I will,” Arthur said after a moment of silence. The other man smiled before turning away to leave with his lover.
Absentmindedly Arthur closed the door behind the two, all the while contemplating the card Matthew had given him. Did he really want to hire someone to take care of his own lawn? It wasn’t as though he wasn’t capable of it on his own. Just get a lawnmower and cut it down to size, leave the weeding for another day. He was living comfortably off of the royalties from his books and the sizable inheritance he’d received, so it wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to hire a professional, but he was loathe to waste money on anything he could do himself.
‘Still…’ Arthur stared out through the picture window in his living room, out to the veritable sea of weeds that rose nearly to his waist. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to at least call and find out their rates…’
000
When he finally made it through the maze of boxes to open his front door, Arthur was a bit surprised to see not his guest’s face, but their profile. At first, he was sure it was Matthew, staring at his lawn with the strangest mix of horror and despair on his face. But no, his hair was too short, and it was missing that silly bit of hair Matthew had, the one that absolutely drove Arthur up a wall with its unwillingness to submit to a comb. It was with a bit of dismay that he caught sight of a flyaway hair on this boy’s head that appeared to have similar tendencies.
“Um, hello? Is there something I can do for you?”
The man was startled out of his revelry and almost instantly, smiling at Arthur like some sort of Hollywood heartthrob. The expression slipped so naturally onto the stranger’s face that Arthur had to wonder.
“Hello, I’m Alfred. F. Jones, pleasure to meet you! Sorry for staring, but your lawn’s a real piece of work, if you don’t mind my saying.”
‘Jones as in… that landscaper…?’
Arthur just stared at the man on his door step for a bit, not really sure what to make of him. When he’d decided to take the services of the man Matthew told him to call, he had expected to meet a middle-aged, somewhat worn looking man, not a boy who looked fresh out of high school. Moreover, he didn’t expect to see someone who looked almost exactly like Matthew on his doorstep.
The boy, Mr. Jones, seemed to think he was confused as to why he was there, and promptly sought to fix the problem. “Ah, I’m from Jones Family Landscaping. You called to have me over today? You are Arthur Kirkland, right?” He was starting to look a bit sheepish, probably thinking he’d gotten the wrong house, no doubt.
“Oh, yes, sorry. Please come in,” Arthur stepped aside to let the other pass. Alfred’s smile (and it was a very bright one, very friendly), grew wider with relief as he stepped in. That was when Arthur noticed the books in his hands; they looked to be scrap books of sorts. Arthur closed the door and led the other to the kitchen; he had yet to refurbish the living room, though it was clean now.
“Sorry for the clutter, I just moved in you see.” Alfred nodded in understanding as he let himself be led through the house. They reached the kitchen, not yet repainted but free of any questionable life forms, and sat at the table. Alfred put down the books he was holding, spreading them out on his side of the small dinner table.
“Well, I guess you know why I’m here, so aside from cutting the grass was there anything else in particular you wanted?”
Arthur felt his face get a bit red at that; yes, his lawn was a mess but there was no reason to be so blunt about it. Still, just on looks and his accent alone Arthur could tell this man was American. Any lack of manners couldn’t be helped, then.
“Well, what sort of work do you do?”
“Heh, what don’t I do is a better question,” Alfred say, his smile just absolutely gorgeous as he opened the books he’d brought with him. Really, that smile was quite charming, it was almost enough to make him forgive the other’s lack of tact and humility. Almost.
The books were in fact scrapbooks, collections of photographs from jobs Alfred had worked on previously. Alongside each was a list of the materials used and the price of each job. None of it was exactly cheap, but then landscaping wasn’t considered a luxury for nothing. Well, it wasn’t as though anything was particularly out of his range so far, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a look through the pictures.
“The ones to the front of the book are the ones I worked on while my father was still in the business. The farther back you get, the less he was involved.”
Arthur nodded. “It is a family business. Do you run it yourself now?”
“Yeah, my old man handed the business to me the minute I was out of school!” Alfred let out a good-natured laugh at that, something fond in his expression as he thought of his father. This man was very open, it seemed.
“Sounds rough, suddenly having an entire business shoved on you,” he muttered absently as he flipped through pages of stonework. A walkway to the front door would look pretty nice, and maybe a patio in the back…
“Eh, I’d been working with him for so long, it hardly made a difference!” Alfred waved off the sentiment, seeming proud of his long years of work. Arthur could see why, his projects were all beautiful.
For the next hour or so Alfred answered questions on the different types of walkways and materials that could be used for walkways and patios. Arthur wasn’t really sure when different kinds of stone had become so interesting to him, but he imagined it was just Alfred’s enthusiasm rubbing off on him.
“Well, the roof tiles are a brown color, so tan brown pavers would complement that most.”
“And just how much would that cost?”
“Same as any other color o’ course. It’s the material that determines the price.”
“Mhm. And what materials are available?”
000
“Alright, so it’s settled then?” Alfred asked one last time. Arthur nodded and helped put Alfred’s books and papers back together. Just from his rough calculations he could tell this was not going to be cheap and his wallet seemed most upset with him.
“I’ll be back to measure out the length of the walkway and patio. Is tomorrow afternoon alright? I’ve got other jobs so I can’t give you an exact time I’ll be around, sorry. Is there a specific time you’d like me here?”
“Any time is alright for me.”
Alfred smiled again, and well Arthur wasn’t sure he’d actually stopped this entire time. It would’ve been creepy if the boy’s entire being didn’t scream honesty and good intentions.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Yes, tomorrow.” For some reason, as Arthur closed the door behind the American, he found himself rather looking forward to the next day.
000
“Good afternoon!” Alfred greeted him pleasantly when he opened the door. He was still smiling that same smile, as though he hadn’t stopped at all since they’d last seen each other. However, this afternoon his smile was complimented by a smudge of dirt on his left cheek, an old tee-shirt and work jeans that were worn and grass-stained, and heavy work boots. He looked disheveled and very much unlike the casually professional man he’d been the day before, but this ruggedness seemed to suit him much more.
After a while he realized he was staring, and feeling the need to justify this, licked his thumb and promptly went to work cleaning the smudge off the boy’s face. It was compulsive, a habit picked up after years of cleaning up a messy little brother. It wasn’t until he registered the shocked and faintly embarrassed look on Alfred’s face that he realized what he was doing (and to a stranger, no less!), and promptly pulled his hand away.
“Ah, sorry, there was, um, dirt on your cheek,” Arthur cringed at his own stammering. Luckily, Alfred seemed to take it in stride because a moment later he was back to smiling, easy and open.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, the dirt had to come off sometime, right?” Alfred said, reassuring Arthur that it wasn’t awkward at all, even if the flush that had replaced the dirt said it was. An embarrassed silence passed between them for a minute, before Alfred found his voice again.
“Ah, well, I usually tell my employers what I’m gonna do to their lawns before hand, so do you wanna step out with me for a bit and I can show you?” The man asked, steadily regaining his composure. Grateful for the change in subject, he followed Alfred outside and around to the back of his house. They stopped by the stairs to his elevated porch, which protruded from the outer wall of the master bedroom.
“This is where you said you wanted your patio, right?” Alfred waited for confirmation, then steamrolled on. “Well, first I’m gonna cut your grass, just so I can see what the hell’s going on back here. Then I’m gonna dig up all the grass under the porch, turn the dirt a bit and level it. I’ve got my truck out front filled with stones, and I’ll get the first layer of that out… Which I think will probably take up all the time I have until I need to go. Mattie insists I get home in time for dinner, he’s such a mother!”
The mention of his personal life after that slew of business talk caught Arthur off-guard the same way an unexpected speed bump might.
“Mattie?” He asked before he could think better of it.
“Yeah, Mattie, my brother? You know ‘im right? He said he’s the one that gave you my card,” Alfred replied. “Can’t you see the resemblance?”
“Ah, right. You look enough alike to be twins, I should’ve realized you were brothers.”
“We are twins. I’m the older one, of course! But Mattie acts way older, like he’s my mom or something and he’s been known to drag me away from work when I don’t get home for dinner. Not really good for my professional image, ya know?”
“I can imagine.” Well he couldn’t really, but all the same. Of course, if it was such an embarrassing occurrence, why would Alfred tell him about it? Really, he was too open for his own good.
“Yeah, so that’ll be about it for today. Feel free to watch if you don’t feel comfortable leavin’ me unsupervised.” Arthur was curious about what kind of person wouldn’t trust this boy; he wasn’t exactly the stuff crooks were made of.
“That’s quite alright. I’ll be in the living room if you need me for anything,” Arthur replied, remembering the piles of boxes he still had to move to their designated places. Alfred nodded, acknowledging the statement, and Arthur took that as his cue to leave the man to his work.
000
After an hour or two of moving boxes, listening to the sound of Alfred’s lawnmower, and occasionally catching sight of the boy joyriding about his lawn on the monstrous machine through the picture window, Arthur plopped himself down on his mattress for a quick break. Currently, it was the only thing in his house that could really constitute as furniture, other than the table set in his kitchen. Francis had kept most of the furniture in their flat and he’d sold or thrown out most everything that had been inside the house when he got here, so there was only his mattress in the middle of the living room and his table set in the house. He’d move it to the master bedroom once the path to the stairs was unobstructed, but for now it was just where it should be.
That is to say it was placed just so in the center of the floor that he could see past the archway of the living room, into the kitchen and through the sliding glass door to where Alfred was working, measuring the area under his porch on his hands and knees. And as Arthur lay there, too tired from all the heavy-lifting to even turn his gaze away from the glass doors and the boy beyond them, he had to admit that the sight was not an unwelcome one. Especially when Alfred finished measuring the area and started digging, showcasing his strong arms, muscles rippling under skin and that pleasantly tight tee-shirt…
‘Oh, for the love of-I am not behaving like some sort of lonely housewife and staring at the landscaper like he’s a fresh piece of meat!’ Arthur mentally groaned to himself and shut his eyes, determined to terminate any desire to ogle the American when he inevitably opened his eyes again. In the end, he just left them closed until he felt like getting up again, twenty minutes later.
000
They were only three days into the project and the back patio was nearly half-done. Alfred had spent nearly the entirety of the previous afternoon bringing pavers from his truck to the back yard and laying out the cement dust in the prepared area. Today he was laying down the bricks. Or starting to at least. He had the boarder laid out in a darker shade of brown, but was not quite sure how he wanted to go about laying out the inner stones.
“Hey, Arthur, it’s your patio so which pattern would you prefer to spend the rest of your life walking over?” Alfred asked over his shoulder. Arthur, who had taken up residence in the kitchen chair closest to the glass door for the afternoon, got up and peered over Alfred’s shoulder to see the two patterns he had laid out.
Arthur stared at the two different patterns, but honestly couldn’t say he particularly cared which one he stepped on. He had half a mind to tell Alfred that they were just bricks and he could just throw them down any old way and it wouldn’t matter, but he got the feeling that might offend the boy on some level. He supposed the stonework, and landscaping in general, might be a sort of art all its own, and that maybe things like this were one of the subtleties of it. In any case, Alfred seemed to think it was important, so Arthur supposed it wouldn’t hurt to humor him.
“Um… This one,” Arthur said after a round of eeny, meeny, miny, moe, pointing to the pattern on the left. Alfred seemed content with the choice for he immediately went to work on it, throwing a quick “Thanks!” over his shoulder. Arthur just shook his head and went back to his seat, straddling the back of the chair.
A few minutes of silence passed as Arthur simply watched Alfred lay out the pattern and Alfred was just content to be left to his work. The quiet wouldn’t last for long though, Arthur was sure. He’d come to realize that Alfred was a social creature, and if there was someone around to talk to, he would.
“So ah,” Alfred started, just as Arthur knew he would. “If you don’t mind me saying, you’re always home in the afternoons, do you work the night or morning shift? Or are you taking time off to work on your house?” He took a moment to lay another paver in place before looking over his shoulder at Arthur.
“Uh, sorry if I’m bein’ too nosy,” he added, sending an embarrassed little look over his shoulder at him.
It was almost enough to make Arthur’s head implode. The boy was absolutely gorgeous, on his hands and knees like that not but three feet away, looking up at him almost shyly. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to stare more, at those sky blue eyes or that tempting butt or the bit of skin showing where his shirt had ridden up. He tried to remind himself that he was ogling one of his best’s friend’s twin brother, and that the man was here to work, not to be visually fucked. The thought did a wonderful job of bringing his mind out of the gutter, kicking and screaming all the way, and he managed to look at Alfred’s face like a gentleman should.
“Oh, I uh, work from home, actually. I’m a writer, you see. Though I am currently taking time off for the house, yes.” Alfred’s eyes widened in surprise and a near-blinding smile etched its way onto his face before he turned his face away, back to his work (thankfully; Arthur wasn’t sure how much more he could take of that honest and innocent staring before he started apologizing for his dirty thoughts).
“That’s so cool! What sort of books do you write? Maybe I’ve read one before.”
Arthur chuckled at the idea, “I doubt it; they’re children’s books.” Yes, he was, as Francis often said, the dirtiest-minded children’s book author the world over. Arthur found this claim to be a bit unreasonable, as surely not all children’s book writers were angels and saints.
Alfred looked back up at him, surveying him for a moment, before nodding and looking back to his work.
“Yeah, I can see it. Heh, kinda wish I was a kid still so I’d have a reason to read ‘em. So what genre are they?”
Arthur felt his face flush a bit at the comment, a little embarrassed that Alfred was taking an interest in his work (while he, dirty bastard that he was, was taking an interest in the boy’s butt. To his defense, it was a very nice butt).
“Fantasy, mostly. When I was a child, I used to love books about magical creatures and the like, and thought I could see them.” He swore he still did, really, but no one believed him! It wasn’t his fault they were impure and couldn’t see them!
Alfred chuckled at the admission, though it wasn’t derisive. “Heh, just like me! Sorta. When I was a kid, I told everyone my best friend was an alien. Really, I just had a stuffed alien I liked a lot. I was very convinced they were out there tryin’ to contact me… They still totally are I’m sure.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“No-nothing!”
“Ah, alright…” Arthur said, covering the silly smile growing on his face at the thought of a young Alfred, babbling on, telling everyone about the aliens.
“So you have an interest in space then?” Arthur asked, deciding that he wouldn’t let Alfred be the only one asking questions. The boy nodded enthusiastically, almost to the point where Arthur worried he’d hit his head on the stone pavers.
“Yeah! I’m pretty big on astronomy, and space travel and all of the stuff. It’s what I wanted to do if I decided not to take over the family business. Work for NASA and all that. But well, someone had to take it over and Mattie’s not really one for landscaping.” Alfred’s tone was wistful as he seemed to concentrate just a little harder on the bricks he was placing.
“So… did you have to give that up for this?” Arthur cringed even as the words were leaving his mouth. He shouldn’t be asking questions like this, it might upset the boy…
Alfred put the brick in his hand in place, then sat back on his legs and looked directly at Arthur, his expression probably the most serious Arthur had seen it yet.
“No. I’m not doin’ this out of some sense of obligation t’ my old man. I love space, but this? I really love this too,” Alfred said looking at Arthur in such a way that it made his heart stutter for a moment before speeding up.
Then quickly, as though embarrassed to have gotten so serious, Alfred went back to work on the patio. However, it didn’t escape Arthur’s notice when he mumbled, “But if I could’ve done both, I would’ve.”
000
Later that afternoon they found themselves so engrossed in whatever conversation they had found themselves in, that it made both of them jump when Alfred’s phone started blaring “Blame Canada” at them, indicating a call from Matthew.
“Shit, it’s this late already?” Alfred murmured as he looked at the clock on his phone. After a moment’s hesitation he answered it. The phone spewed a bunch of garbled yelling so loud even Arthur could hear it (goodness, since when did Matthew have such a loud voice?) and Alfred shot him an apologetic look before excusing himself.
As Alfred walked around to the side of his house, Arthur stepped over the finished section of the patio. He kept his mind on how nice the pattern looked, how well the stones held their place, to prevent himself from noticing the little pang of something he felt at the realization that Alfred would be leaving as soon as that call was over. Surely he was just mourning the end of a particularly interesting conversation. Of course that was all.
When Alfred reappeared a moment later, his expression was equal parts embarrassed and sorry.
“Aha, sorry ‘bout that, it was Mattie. Looks like I hung around too late today. So uh, I guess I’ve gotta pack up for now? I’ll be back tomorrow a bit after noon, I should be able to finish this up then!” Alfred said, steadily gaining his confidence back as the awkwardness caused by the call wore off.
Despite himself, Arthur felt a bit crestfallen to hear that the project was so close to finished. He rather enjoyed talking with Alfred (among numerous other aspects of his presence) and it was just a shame that was coming to an end so quickly.
After an odd second or so Arthur finally replied with a quiet, “Yes, I look forward to seeing the finished product,” though he really didn’t care to see it at all.
Next chapter->
Author/Artist: Sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): USxUK with a side of Franada
Rating: So far, PG, though it'll probably climb it's way up to a pretty little R by the end.
Warnings: Um... Arthur checking Alfred out excessively? AU. Some swearing. Possible OOC.
Summary: Moving into a new house is never easy. This is especially true in the case of one Arthur Kirkland, who simply cannot keep his eyes to himself.
A/n: I really wanted to finish this whole thing in time for Valentine's Day, and then just post all of it at the same time (in multiple posts of acceptable size that would make it seem shorter than it actually is), but... Well, this story, which I originally intended to be a fairly moderate-length one-shot, ran away with itself, and I could do nothing but follow, and at the rate it's currently going it'll be novella-length by the time I'm done. Imaginations should come with leashes.
Arthur Kirkland looked at the somewhat decrepit house he was in the process of moving into and wondered why he was bothering with it. It was the family house, the one his father and his father’s father before him had grown up in. It was the one inherited by the childless uncle he’d never met. It was the house that he’d somehow inherited despite being the second youngest sibling in his family. His brothers and sister had probably refused it. He could see why they might.
But, in any case, it was his now. It was an unhelpful distance from where his publishing company was located and living here would surely make meeting with his editor a massive chore. Still, at least here he didn’t have a loud French flat mate who liked to keep him up with his loud French sex. He could decorate it however he wanted and have his own garden, too.
That is to say, he could have his own garden if he could find the ground first. It was a big if.
His deceased uncle clearly hadn’t thought much of lawn maintenance. Weeds and wild grasses that reached his waist dominated the landscape, and he could tell exactly where his property ended and his neighbors’ began because they had well-kept lawns. This was positively unsightly.
‘I suppose I’d better invest in a lawnmower then,’ Arthur thought with a tired sigh as he walked into the house. It was mostly empty, but for the boxes of possessions he’d just brought in and his mattress on the living room floor. The walls were old with smoke stains and water marks, the wallpaper peeling in some places. The floors were dull wood paneling. Everything seemed to have a layer of dust on it and he could see mold in the corner where he assumed a couch had once been, as the wallpaper was less faded in that corner. There were in fact many such patches of bright color surrounded by sun-bleached paper.
Arthur took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and rolled up his sleeves.
“Right. Well, this comes first then.”
000
“Ah, mon anglais, you’ve done wonders with your new place, really-“ Arthur slammed the door shut in Francis’ face. Yes, they were flat mates and drinking buddies, but that didn’t mean he liked the French bastard. And it certainly didn’t mean that he was allowed to visit Arthur in his new home while he was still working on it.
There was silence for a moment, but Arthur knew better than to believe Francis had left without putting up a fight. He was proved right when someone started politely knocking on the door. Well, that certainly couldn’t be Francis, maybe there was someone else out there that he hadn’t seen?
Opening the door again, he allowed himself to smile a small bit when he saw Matthew on the doorstep. He had been an underclassman of Francis and himself when they’d been in college, as well as Francis’ lover. He and Arthur were on very good terms, even if his taste in men was questionable.
“Hello Arthur. Sorry for the early morning visit, but I’ve brought pancakes to make up for it. Well, pancake batter, anyway.” Matthew held up a Tupperware bowl filled with the aforementioned batter and a bottle of maple syrup as though they were peace offerings. Arthur stepped aside and let the Canadian in, only to slam the door shut again when Francis tried to enter behind him. He hooked the chain lock before opening the door and speaking through the crack.
“You, frog, are to keep your mitts to yourself in my house, understand?” Boy, did it feel empowering to have his own house.
“Oui, je comprends. You have my word as a Frenchman that-”
“-Lot of good that is. Just behave yourself while you’re here.” Arthur rolled his eyes as he undid the chain again and opened the door fully for Francis. Well, if nothing else, at least his house guests could make good food.
000
“Mon Dieu, this house is truly disgusting…” Francis had been moaning and groaning since Arthur first roped him and Matthew into helping him clean. He’d already spent a week trying to clean the house himself, and at the moment only his kitchen was clean enough to use. He was thankful he’d worked on that first, as both Francis and Matthew were unbearable when it came to an unkempt kitchen.
“Oh, belt up would you? It’s just a bit of dust.”
“Dust and mold and all sorts of grime… It’s not fit to live in.” Francis wrinkled his nose in distaste at that spot of mold in the corner Arthur had seen fit to assign him to. Matthew sighed as he helped Arthur peel away the wallpaper.
“This does look like it’s going to take a long time… Arthur, you sure you can take off this much time from work? We could come over to help you again until you get the place cleaned up, if you’d like.”
“That’d be lovely Matthew, thank you. Really, you are much too good for the sniveling prat you dragged here.” Matthew just smiled awkwardly at the comment; he got that a lot.
“Then we’ll be by tomorrow, same time?” Matthew slowly pulled a strip of paper off the wall; he seemed to be having a much better time of it than Arthur.
“That sounds good, thank you.” Arthur sighed as he finally got a particularly stubborn piece of paper off; dear Lord there was another layer underneath it. “I…I think we’ve done all we can for the day though.”
“I would certainly agree with you there!” Francis was quick to move away from his spot, stand up and brush the dust from his clothes. “Well, it was pleasant working with you, but we really must be on our way. You understand, don’t you?”
Arthur just shook his head and sighed at his “friend’s” obvious desire to be gone from this hell hole of a house. ‘Honestly, with friends like these…’
“Yes, yes, I understand. Now get your frog arse out of my house,” Arthur said, shoving Francis in the general direction of his front door. Turning to Matthew, he said in a much kinder tone, “Feel free to come by when the house is finished, if you’d like.”
The two gathered their coats and Tupperware, leaving the syrup behind for the next day. Arthur showed them to the door like a proper host, but before he could close it Matthew stopped him.
“Uh… I know you’ve still got a lot of work to do on the inside of the house, but…” The Canadian looked around the front lawn, still wild and overgrown as the day Arthur arrived. “If you want any help with the outside, give this number a call, alright?” Matthew handed Arthur a business card, “His rates are pretty low and he’ll do as good a job as any big business, better I’d say.”
Arthur looked at Matthew for a second before looking at the card. ‘Jones Family Landscaping Inc…? Hm.’
“Thank you Matthew, I will,” Arthur said after a moment of silence. The other man smiled before turning away to leave with his lover.
Absentmindedly Arthur closed the door behind the two, all the while contemplating the card Matthew had given him. Did he really want to hire someone to take care of his own lawn? It wasn’t as though he wasn’t capable of it on his own. Just get a lawnmower and cut it down to size, leave the weeding for another day. He was living comfortably off of the royalties from his books and the sizable inheritance he’d received, so it wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to hire a professional, but he was loathe to waste money on anything he could do himself.
‘Still…’ Arthur stared out through the picture window in his living room, out to the veritable sea of weeds that rose nearly to his waist. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to at least call and find out their rates…’
000
When he finally made it through the maze of boxes to open his front door, Arthur was a bit surprised to see not his guest’s face, but their profile. At first, he was sure it was Matthew, staring at his lawn with the strangest mix of horror and despair on his face. But no, his hair was too short, and it was missing that silly bit of hair Matthew had, the one that absolutely drove Arthur up a wall with its unwillingness to submit to a comb. It was with a bit of dismay that he caught sight of a flyaway hair on this boy’s head that appeared to have similar tendencies.
“Um, hello? Is there something I can do for you?”
The man was startled out of his revelry and almost instantly, smiling at Arthur like some sort of Hollywood heartthrob. The expression slipped so naturally onto the stranger’s face that Arthur had to wonder.
“Hello, I’m Alfred. F. Jones, pleasure to meet you! Sorry for staring, but your lawn’s a real piece of work, if you don’t mind my saying.”
‘Jones as in… that landscaper…?’
Arthur just stared at the man on his door step for a bit, not really sure what to make of him. When he’d decided to take the services of the man Matthew told him to call, he had expected to meet a middle-aged, somewhat worn looking man, not a boy who looked fresh out of high school. Moreover, he didn’t expect to see someone who looked almost exactly like Matthew on his doorstep.
The boy, Mr. Jones, seemed to think he was confused as to why he was there, and promptly sought to fix the problem. “Ah, I’m from Jones Family Landscaping. You called to have me over today? You are Arthur Kirkland, right?” He was starting to look a bit sheepish, probably thinking he’d gotten the wrong house, no doubt.
“Oh, yes, sorry. Please come in,” Arthur stepped aside to let the other pass. Alfred’s smile (and it was a very bright one, very friendly), grew wider with relief as he stepped in. That was when Arthur noticed the books in his hands; they looked to be scrap books of sorts. Arthur closed the door and led the other to the kitchen; he had yet to refurbish the living room, though it was clean now.
“Sorry for the clutter, I just moved in you see.” Alfred nodded in understanding as he let himself be led through the house. They reached the kitchen, not yet repainted but free of any questionable life forms, and sat at the table. Alfred put down the books he was holding, spreading them out on his side of the small dinner table.
“Well, I guess you know why I’m here, so aside from cutting the grass was there anything else in particular you wanted?”
Arthur felt his face get a bit red at that; yes, his lawn was a mess but there was no reason to be so blunt about it. Still, just on looks and his accent alone Arthur could tell this man was American. Any lack of manners couldn’t be helped, then.
“Well, what sort of work do you do?”
“Heh, what don’t I do is a better question,” Alfred say, his smile just absolutely gorgeous as he opened the books he’d brought with him. Really, that smile was quite charming, it was almost enough to make him forgive the other’s lack of tact and humility. Almost.
The books were in fact scrapbooks, collections of photographs from jobs Alfred had worked on previously. Alongside each was a list of the materials used and the price of each job. None of it was exactly cheap, but then landscaping wasn’t considered a luxury for nothing. Well, it wasn’t as though anything was particularly out of his range so far, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a look through the pictures.
“The ones to the front of the book are the ones I worked on while my father was still in the business. The farther back you get, the less he was involved.”
Arthur nodded. “It is a family business. Do you run it yourself now?”
“Yeah, my old man handed the business to me the minute I was out of school!” Alfred let out a good-natured laugh at that, something fond in his expression as he thought of his father. This man was very open, it seemed.
“Sounds rough, suddenly having an entire business shoved on you,” he muttered absently as he flipped through pages of stonework. A walkway to the front door would look pretty nice, and maybe a patio in the back…
“Eh, I’d been working with him for so long, it hardly made a difference!” Alfred waved off the sentiment, seeming proud of his long years of work. Arthur could see why, his projects were all beautiful.
For the next hour or so Alfred answered questions on the different types of walkways and materials that could be used for walkways and patios. Arthur wasn’t really sure when different kinds of stone had become so interesting to him, but he imagined it was just Alfred’s enthusiasm rubbing off on him.
“Well, the roof tiles are a brown color, so tan brown pavers would complement that most.”
“And just how much would that cost?”
“Same as any other color o’ course. It’s the material that determines the price.”
“Mhm. And what materials are available?”
000
“Alright, so it’s settled then?” Alfred asked one last time. Arthur nodded and helped put Alfred’s books and papers back together. Just from his rough calculations he could tell this was not going to be cheap and his wallet seemed most upset with him.
“I’ll be back to measure out the length of the walkway and patio. Is tomorrow afternoon alright? I’ve got other jobs so I can’t give you an exact time I’ll be around, sorry. Is there a specific time you’d like me here?”
“Any time is alright for me.”
Alfred smiled again, and well Arthur wasn’t sure he’d actually stopped this entire time. It would’ve been creepy if the boy’s entire being didn’t scream honesty and good intentions.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Yes, tomorrow.” For some reason, as Arthur closed the door behind the American, he found himself rather looking forward to the next day.
000
“Good afternoon!” Alfred greeted him pleasantly when he opened the door. He was still smiling that same smile, as though he hadn’t stopped at all since they’d last seen each other. However, this afternoon his smile was complimented by a smudge of dirt on his left cheek, an old tee-shirt and work jeans that were worn and grass-stained, and heavy work boots. He looked disheveled and very much unlike the casually professional man he’d been the day before, but this ruggedness seemed to suit him much more.
After a while he realized he was staring, and feeling the need to justify this, licked his thumb and promptly went to work cleaning the smudge off the boy’s face. It was compulsive, a habit picked up after years of cleaning up a messy little brother. It wasn’t until he registered the shocked and faintly embarrassed look on Alfred’s face that he realized what he was doing (and to a stranger, no less!), and promptly pulled his hand away.
“Ah, sorry, there was, um, dirt on your cheek,” Arthur cringed at his own stammering. Luckily, Alfred seemed to take it in stride because a moment later he was back to smiling, easy and open.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, the dirt had to come off sometime, right?” Alfred said, reassuring Arthur that it wasn’t awkward at all, even if the flush that had replaced the dirt said it was. An embarrassed silence passed between them for a minute, before Alfred found his voice again.
“Ah, well, I usually tell my employers what I’m gonna do to their lawns before hand, so do you wanna step out with me for a bit and I can show you?” The man asked, steadily regaining his composure. Grateful for the change in subject, he followed Alfred outside and around to the back of his house. They stopped by the stairs to his elevated porch, which protruded from the outer wall of the master bedroom.
“This is where you said you wanted your patio, right?” Alfred waited for confirmation, then steamrolled on. “Well, first I’m gonna cut your grass, just so I can see what the hell’s going on back here. Then I’m gonna dig up all the grass under the porch, turn the dirt a bit and level it. I’ve got my truck out front filled with stones, and I’ll get the first layer of that out… Which I think will probably take up all the time I have until I need to go. Mattie insists I get home in time for dinner, he’s such a mother!”
The mention of his personal life after that slew of business talk caught Arthur off-guard the same way an unexpected speed bump might.
“Mattie?” He asked before he could think better of it.
“Yeah, Mattie, my brother? You know ‘im right? He said he’s the one that gave you my card,” Alfred replied. “Can’t you see the resemblance?”
“Ah, right. You look enough alike to be twins, I should’ve realized you were brothers.”
“We are twins. I’m the older one, of course! But Mattie acts way older, like he’s my mom or something and he’s been known to drag me away from work when I don’t get home for dinner. Not really good for my professional image, ya know?”
“I can imagine.” Well he couldn’t really, but all the same. Of course, if it was such an embarrassing occurrence, why would Alfred tell him about it? Really, he was too open for his own good.
“Yeah, so that’ll be about it for today. Feel free to watch if you don’t feel comfortable leavin’ me unsupervised.” Arthur was curious about what kind of person wouldn’t trust this boy; he wasn’t exactly the stuff crooks were made of.
“That’s quite alright. I’ll be in the living room if you need me for anything,” Arthur replied, remembering the piles of boxes he still had to move to their designated places. Alfred nodded, acknowledging the statement, and Arthur took that as his cue to leave the man to his work.
000
After an hour or two of moving boxes, listening to the sound of Alfred’s lawnmower, and occasionally catching sight of the boy joyriding about his lawn on the monstrous machine through the picture window, Arthur plopped himself down on his mattress for a quick break. Currently, it was the only thing in his house that could really constitute as furniture, other than the table set in his kitchen. Francis had kept most of the furniture in their flat and he’d sold or thrown out most everything that had been inside the house when he got here, so there was only his mattress in the middle of the living room and his table set in the house. He’d move it to the master bedroom once the path to the stairs was unobstructed, but for now it was just where it should be.
That is to say it was placed just so in the center of the floor that he could see past the archway of the living room, into the kitchen and through the sliding glass door to where Alfred was working, measuring the area under his porch on his hands and knees. And as Arthur lay there, too tired from all the heavy-lifting to even turn his gaze away from the glass doors and the boy beyond them, he had to admit that the sight was not an unwelcome one. Especially when Alfred finished measuring the area and started digging, showcasing his strong arms, muscles rippling under skin and that pleasantly tight tee-shirt…
‘Oh, for the love of-I am not behaving like some sort of lonely housewife and staring at the landscaper like he’s a fresh piece of meat!’ Arthur mentally groaned to himself and shut his eyes, determined to terminate any desire to ogle the American when he inevitably opened his eyes again. In the end, he just left them closed until he felt like getting up again, twenty minutes later.
000
They were only three days into the project and the back patio was nearly half-done. Alfred had spent nearly the entirety of the previous afternoon bringing pavers from his truck to the back yard and laying out the cement dust in the prepared area. Today he was laying down the bricks. Or starting to at least. He had the boarder laid out in a darker shade of brown, but was not quite sure how he wanted to go about laying out the inner stones.
“Hey, Arthur, it’s your patio so which pattern would you prefer to spend the rest of your life walking over?” Alfred asked over his shoulder. Arthur, who had taken up residence in the kitchen chair closest to the glass door for the afternoon, got up and peered over Alfred’s shoulder to see the two patterns he had laid out.
Arthur stared at the two different patterns, but honestly couldn’t say he particularly cared which one he stepped on. He had half a mind to tell Alfred that they were just bricks and he could just throw them down any old way and it wouldn’t matter, but he got the feeling that might offend the boy on some level. He supposed the stonework, and landscaping in general, might be a sort of art all its own, and that maybe things like this were one of the subtleties of it. In any case, Alfred seemed to think it was important, so Arthur supposed it wouldn’t hurt to humor him.
“Um… This one,” Arthur said after a round of eeny, meeny, miny, moe, pointing to the pattern on the left. Alfred seemed content with the choice for he immediately went to work on it, throwing a quick “Thanks!” over his shoulder. Arthur just shook his head and went back to his seat, straddling the back of the chair.
A few minutes of silence passed as Arthur simply watched Alfred lay out the pattern and Alfred was just content to be left to his work. The quiet wouldn’t last for long though, Arthur was sure. He’d come to realize that Alfred was a social creature, and if there was someone around to talk to, he would.
“So ah,” Alfred started, just as Arthur knew he would. “If you don’t mind me saying, you’re always home in the afternoons, do you work the night or morning shift? Or are you taking time off to work on your house?” He took a moment to lay another paver in place before looking over his shoulder at Arthur.
“Uh, sorry if I’m bein’ too nosy,” he added, sending an embarrassed little look over his shoulder at him.
It was almost enough to make Arthur’s head implode. The boy was absolutely gorgeous, on his hands and knees like that not but three feet away, looking up at him almost shyly. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to stare more, at those sky blue eyes or that tempting butt or the bit of skin showing where his shirt had ridden up. He tried to remind himself that he was ogling one of his best’s friend’s twin brother, and that the man was here to work, not to be visually fucked. The thought did a wonderful job of bringing his mind out of the gutter, kicking and screaming all the way, and he managed to look at Alfred’s face like a gentleman should.
“Oh, I uh, work from home, actually. I’m a writer, you see. Though I am currently taking time off for the house, yes.” Alfred’s eyes widened in surprise and a near-blinding smile etched its way onto his face before he turned his face away, back to his work (thankfully; Arthur wasn’t sure how much more he could take of that honest and innocent staring before he started apologizing for his dirty thoughts).
“That’s so cool! What sort of books do you write? Maybe I’ve read one before.”
Arthur chuckled at the idea, “I doubt it; they’re children’s books.” Yes, he was, as Francis often said, the dirtiest-minded children’s book author the world over. Arthur found this claim to be a bit unreasonable, as surely not all children’s book writers were angels and saints.
Alfred looked back up at him, surveying him for a moment, before nodding and looking back to his work.
“Yeah, I can see it. Heh, kinda wish I was a kid still so I’d have a reason to read ‘em. So what genre are they?”
Arthur felt his face flush a bit at the comment, a little embarrassed that Alfred was taking an interest in his work (while he, dirty bastard that he was, was taking an interest in the boy’s butt. To his defense, it was a very nice butt).
“Fantasy, mostly. When I was a child, I used to love books about magical creatures and the like, and thought I could see them.” He swore he still did, really, but no one believed him! It wasn’t his fault they were impure and couldn’t see them!
Alfred chuckled at the admission, though it wasn’t derisive. “Heh, just like me! Sorta. When I was a kid, I told everyone my best friend was an alien. Really, I just had a stuffed alien I liked a lot. I was very convinced they were out there tryin’ to contact me… They still totally are I’m sure.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“No-nothing!”
“Ah, alright…” Arthur said, covering the silly smile growing on his face at the thought of a young Alfred, babbling on, telling everyone about the aliens.
“So you have an interest in space then?” Arthur asked, deciding that he wouldn’t let Alfred be the only one asking questions. The boy nodded enthusiastically, almost to the point where Arthur worried he’d hit his head on the stone pavers.
“Yeah! I’m pretty big on astronomy, and space travel and all of the stuff. It’s what I wanted to do if I decided not to take over the family business. Work for NASA and all that. But well, someone had to take it over and Mattie’s not really one for landscaping.” Alfred’s tone was wistful as he seemed to concentrate just a little harder on the bricks he was placing.
“So… did you have to give that up for this?” Arthur cringed even as the words were leaving his mouth. He shouldn’t be asking questions like this, it might upset the boy…
Alfred put the brick in his hand in place, then sat back on his legs and looked directly at Arthur, his expression probably the most serious Arthur had seen it yet.
“No. I’m not doin’ this out of some sense of obligation t’ my old man. I love space, but this? I really love this too,” Alfred said looking at Arthur in such a way that it made his heart stutter for a moment before speeding up.
Then quickly, as though embarrassed to have gotten so serious, Alfred went back to work on the patio. However, it didn’t escape Arthur’s notice when he mumbled, “But if I could’ve done both, I would’ve.”
000
Later that afternoon they found themselves so engrossed in whatever conversation they had found themselves in, that it made both of them jump when Alfred’s phone started blaring “Blame Canada” at them, indicating a call from Matthew.
“Shit, it’s this late already?” Alfred murmured as he looked at the clock on his phone. After a moment’s hesitation he answered it. The phone spewed a bunch of garbled yelling so loud even Arthur could hear it (goodness, since when did Matthew have such a loud voice?) and Alfred shot him an apologetic look before excusing himself.
As Alfred walked around to the side of his house, Arthur stepped over the finished section of the patio. He kept his mind on how nice the pattern looked, how well the stones held their place, to prevent himself from noticing the little pang of something he felt at the realization that Alfred would be leaving as soon as that call was over. Surely he was just mourning the end of a particularly interesting conversation. Of course that was all.
When Alfred reappeared a moment later, his expression was equal parts embarrassed and sorry.
“Aha, sorry ‘bout that, it was Mattie. Looks like I hung around too late today. So uh, I guess I’ve gotta pack up for now? I’ll be back tomorrow a bit after noon, I should be able to finish this up then!” Alfred said, steadily gaining his confidence back as the awkwardness caused by the call wore off.
Despite himself, Arthur felt a bit crestfallen to hear that the project was so close to finished. He rather enjoyed talking with Alfred (among numerous other aspects of his presence) and it was just a shame that was coming to an end so quickly.
After an odd second or so Arthur finally replied with a quiet, “Yes, I look forward to seeing the finished product,” though he really didn’t care to see it at all.
Next chapter->