[Fanfic] UsxUk - After Nine Years [1/3]
Title: After Nine Years
Pairing: USxUK
Rating: G for this chapter, but PG-13 overall
Warnings: None for this part, language and violence in parts 2 and 3.
Summary: AU- Alfred F. Jones was Arthur's first and only best friend.
I.
------
They met in grade school - on the first, wickedly blustery day of class as small sand devils chased them indoors at the beckoning of the first bell. On tip-toe , peering out the window of the heavy green door that had slammed shut behind him, Arthur Kirkland watched his mother and father wave one last time before turning and walking until they disappeared around a corner. He stared for what seemed like hours at the place they had been only moments before, a peculiar soreness building up in his chest and throat, hoping beyond all hope that they would appear again to take him away from that big, scary place called School.
When the sounds of excited laughter and footsteps faded into empty silence, he dropped onto the flats of his feet and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, determinedly suppressing the tears that stung and threatened to fall. So that was it, then. They were gone.
Turning away from the door, hands and gaze dropping as he heaved his satchel over his shoulders, the little blond was so caught up in his desperate attempt to stifle his tears that he turned right into another solid body, slightly taller than his own. Tripping over his own feet, not to mention the other person's, Arthur landed on his hands and knees as the other person tottered over him uncertainly before regaining their balance.
“You should watch where you're going! You could get hurt like that!”
Glancing up from where he had fallen, Arthur came eye-to-eye with a grinning, blue-eyed boy as he leaned down over him. Even from his position on the ground, Arthur could see that the boy was taller than himself, roughly around the same age if not a year older. He wore jeans that were already dirty at the knees, pristine white sneakers emblazoned with flames on the sides, and a short-sleeved Superman shirt that revealed several band-aids across the boy's elbows and forearms. His grinning face gave way to a mop of sandy blond hair, a lock of which stuck up from the rest in a nearly curlicue cowlick.
After a moment of stunned silence, the boy gripped Arthur under his arms and pulled him back up to his feet. “Say, shouldn't you be in class already?”
The boy's voice snapped Arthur out of his reverie, stirring him to respond in a clipped, distinctly British accent; “Y-yes, but what about you? You're not in class either!” His intended jibe went seemingly unnoticed by the boy, whose grin merely widened as he shrugged. “I had to the go to the bathroom. When I came out, you were the only one standing here. So whose class are you in? Maybe we're gonna be in the same room!”
Brushing dirt from his sweater vest, Arthur hesitated, unnerved by the bright and chipper boy whereas a moment ago he himself had been on the brink of tears. Despite that, he meekly responded, “M-Mrs. Maloney's class. Room three.” He flinched a moment later as the boy grabbed his wrist, nearly whipping him off his feet again as he turned them both towards the staircase past another set of doors. “Great, we're in the same class! Follow me, I know where we're supposed to be!”
“W-Wait!”
The boy froze, glancing at Arthur over his shoulder with confusion.
“W-What's your name?”
“Oh!” The boy grinned again, slapping his forehead with his free hand, “I'm Alfred. Alfred Jones. You're Arthur Kirkland?”
Arthur blinked, taken by surprise. “Yes, how did you know?” Alfred was already pulling him up the staircase as a giggle grew in his throat. “It says so on your back-pack, silly!”
“Oh.” Without protest, the shorter boy let himself be lead down up the stairs and to their classroom down the hallway, briefly wondering if Alfred was always this frighteningly cheerful.
II.
Alfred F. Jones, Arthur later found out, was a Grade A talker, meaning that whenever he was given the chance, the boy liked to chatter non-stop (even when he was wasn't supposed to). Within the first week of school, he had been seated in the 'Naughty Box' a total of twelve times, and for every week there-after, it wasn't unusual to see his feet poking out from beneath the box at least once or twice a day. By the time the first month of school ended, the blue-eyed boy had already developed a reputation as the class clown and rebel.
Arthur, on the other hand, went virtually unknown to the rest of his classmates. Seated at the back of the class, he completed his work in silence, preferring to avoid the Naughty Box as much as Alfred wound up in it. Far unlike the rest of the boys in his class, Arthur preferred Language Arts over Gym, was the first into the library to take out books and the last to leave, - which some hesitance - and generally avoided socializing with the other grade one students, rejecting the few offers to play at recess with an air of cool haughtiness. For the most part he was ignored by his classmates, helped along by his hermit-like tendencies; after all, it wasn't as if he really wanted to play with them. He had his books and his comforting solidarity, and that was just fine with him.
Much to his chagrin, though, Alfred did not ignore him as the rest of their classmates did. If anything, he purposely went out of his way to try to get the British boy - as Arthur had revealed that he had moved from Britain only the year prior - to play with him at recess or partner up with him for group projects in class. No matter how often he declined the other boy's offers, Alfred was always back a short time later with another, and eventually it would get to the point where Arthur would give in and find himself wading through piles of dirty leaves with Alfred, who seemingly delighted in everything dirty and outdoorsy. Of course he would never admit that for Alfred, he didn't mind putting down his books to play Jungle Adventurer in the trees lining the playground, or that he was actually quite fond of the burger the sandy-haired boy had shared with him at lunch one time (despite his own claims that it was greasy and gross). It was one of his secrets that he was almost sure Alfred already knew about, even without asking.
III.
It was Alfred who declared that they should be best friends.
Dropping into his seat next to Arthur at one of the crowded tables in the school lunch room, the rowdy blond had declared their relationship as such as he pulled out a burger from his brown lunch back, unwrapped it and tore into it with vengeance. His declaration left Arthur choking on a scone - lovingly packed by his mother - and gasping for air as he wheezed, “What did you just say?”
Alfred simply gave him a cheeky grin and garbled through a mouthful of beef and bun, “I said that I've decided that we should be be friends!” As if that were that, he went back to the rest of his lunch, pulling out a container of fries and downing that as quickly as he had his burger. Arthur, meanwhile, grew flushed as he frowned and queried, “And where did you get the idea that I wanted to be your best friend?”
The other boy paused mid-bite of his last fry, turned and gave the paler blond a look that was almost equal to that of a kicked puppy's. “You don't...want to be my best friend, Arty?”
“I-I never said that I didn't...and don't call me Arty!”
There is was again, that annoyingly bright smile, as Alfred went back to devouring his lunch, shrugging his shoulders as if it were that simple. “Then I say we should be best friends. It's not as if you have any other friends, right?” Arthur flinched at that, scone crumbling between his fingers as his face grew hot with anger and embarassment.
“Y-you...!”
“So lets shake on it. Best friends?”
There was a hand proffered to him, covered in french fry grease and the last remaining spatters of ketchup and mustard from his burger. The sight thoroughly disgusted Arthur...but none the less, he caved and found his own hand in Alfred's vice grip, smiling just slightly.
“Yeah. Best friends.”
Even if Alfred was an annoyingly cheerful, dirty, loud-mouthed git, Arthur wouldn't have had it any other way.
Pairing: USxUK
Rating: G for this chapter, but PG-13 overall
Warnings: None for this part, language and violence in parts 2 and 3.
Summary: AU- Alfred F. Jones was Arthur's first and only best friend.
I.
------
They met in grade school - on the first, wickedly blustery day of class as small sand devils chased them indoors at the beckoning of the first bell. On tip-toe , peering out the window of the heavy green door that had slammed shut behind him, Arthur Kirkland watched his mother and father wave one last time before turning and walking until they disappeared around a corner. He stared for what seemed like hours at the place they had been only moments before, a peculiar soreness building up in his chest and throat, hoping beyond all hope that they would appear again to take him away from that big, scary place called School.
When the sounds of excited laughter and footsteps faded into empty silence, he dropped onto the flats of his feet and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, determinedly suppressing the tears that stung and threatened to fall. So that was it, then. They were gone.
Turning away from the door, hands and gaze dropping as he heaved his satchel over his shoulders, the little blond was so caught up in his desperate attempt to stifle his tears that he turned right into another solid body, slightly taller than his own. Tripping over his own feet, not to mention the other person's, Arthur landed on his hands and knees as the other person tottered over him uncertainly before regaining their balance.
“You should watch where you're going! You could get hurt like that!”
Glancing up from where he had fallen, Arthur came eye-to-eye with a grinning, blue-eyed boy as he leaned down over him. Even from his position on the ground, Arthur could see that the boy was taller than himself, roughly around the same age if not a year older. He wore jeans that were already dirty at the knees, pristine white sneakers emblazoned with flames on the sides, and a short-sleeved Superman shirt that revealed several band-aids across the boy's elbows and forearms. His grinning face gave way to a mop of sandy blond hair, a lock of which stuck up from the rest in a nearly curlicue cowlick.
After a moment of stunned silence, the boy gripped Arthur under his arms and pulled him back up to his feet. “Say, shouldn't you be in class already?”
The boy's voice snapped Arthur out of his reverie, stirring him to respond in a clipped, distinctly British accent; “Y-yes, but what about you? You're not in class either!” His intended jibe went seemingly unnoticed by the boy, whose grin merely widened as he shrugged. “I had to the go to the bathroom. When I came out, you were the only one standing here. So whose class are you in? Maybe we're gonna be in the same room!”
Brushing dirt from his sweater vest, Arthur hesitated, unnerved by the bright and chipper boy whereas a moment ago he himself had been on the brink of tears. Despite that, he meekly responded, “M-Mrs. Maloney's class. Room three.” He flinched a moment later as the boy grabbed his wrist, nearly whipping him off his feet again as he turned them both towards the staircase past another set of doors. “Great, we're in the same class! Follow me, I know where we're supposed to be!”
“W-Wait!”
The boy froze, glancing at Arthur over his shoulder with confusion.
“W-What's your name?”
“Oh!” The boy grinned again, slapping his forehead with his free hand, “I'm Alfred. Alfred Jones. You're Arthur Kirkland?”
Arthur blinked, taken by surprise. “Yes, how did you know?” Alfred was already pulling him up the staircase as a giggle grew in his throat. “It says so on your back-pack, silly!”
“Oh.” Without protest, the shorter boy let himself be lead down up the stairs and to their classroom down the hallway, briefly wondering if Alfred was always this frighteningly cheerful.
II.
Alfred F. Jones, Arthur later found out, was a Grade A talker, meaning that whenever he was given the chance, the boy liked to chatter non-stop (even when he was wasn't supposed to). Within the first week of school, he had been seated in the 'Naughty Box' a total of twelve times, and for every week there-after, it wasn't unusual to see his feet poking out from beneath the box at least once or twice a day. By the time the first month of school ended, the blue-eyed boy had already developed a reputation as the class clown and rebel.
Arthur, on the other hand, went virtually unknown to the rest of his classmates. Seated at the back of the class, he completed his work in silence, preferring to avoid the Naughty Box as much as Alfred wound up in it. Far unlike the rest of the boys in his class, Arthur preferred Language Arts over Gym, was the first into the library to take out books and the last to leave, - which some hesitance - and generally avoided socializing with the other grade one students, rejecting the few offers to play at recess with an air of cool haughtiness. For the most part he was ignored by his classmates, helped along by his hermit-like tendencies; after all, it wasn't as if he really wanted to play with them. He had his books and his comforting solidarity, and that was just fine with him.
Much to his chagrin, though, Alfred did not ignore him as the rest of their classmates did. If anything, he purposely went out of his way to try to get the British boy - as Arthur had revealed that he had moved from Britain only the year prior - to play with him at recess or partner up with him for group projects in class. No matter how often he declined the other boy's offers, Alfred was always back a short time later with another, and eventually it would get to the point where Arthur would give in and find himself wading through piles of dirty leaves with Alfred, who seemingly delighted in everything dirty and outdoorsy. Of course he would never admit that for Alfred, he didn't mind putting down his books to play Jungle Adventurer in the trees lining the playground, or that he was actually quite fond of the burger the sandy-haired boy had shared with him at lunch one time (despite his own claims that it was greasy and gross). It was one of his secrets that he was almost sure Alfred already knew about, even without asking.
III.
It was Alfred who declared that they should be best friends.
Dropping into his seat next to Arthur at one of the crowded tables in the school lunch room, the rowdy blond had declared their relationship as such as he pulled out a burger from his brown lunch back, unwrapped it and tore into it with vengeance. His declaration left Arthur choking on a scone - lovingly packed by his mother - and gasping for air as he wheezed, “What did you just say?”
Alfred simply gave him a cheeky grin and garbled through a mouthful of beef and bun, “I said that I've decided that we should be be friends!” As if that were that, he went back to the rest of his lunch, pulling out a container of fries and downing that as quickly as he had his burger. Arthur, meanwhile, grew flushed as he frowned and queried, “And where did you get the idea that I wanted to be your best friend?”
The other boy paused mid-bite of his last fry, turned and gave the paler blond a look that was almost equal to that of a kicked puppy's. “You don't...want to be my best friend, Arty?”
“I-I never said that I didn't...and don't call me Arty!”
There is was again, that annoyingly bright smile, as Alfred went back to devouring his lunch, shrugging his shoulders as if it were that simple. “Then I say we should be best friends. It's not as if you have any other friends, right?” Arthur flinched at that, scone crumbling between his fingers as his face grew hot with anger and embarassment.
“Y-you...!”
“So lets shake on it. Best friends?”
There was a hand proffered to him, covered in french fry grease and the last remaining spatters of ketchup and mustard from his burger. The sight thoroughly disgusted Arthur...but none the less, he caved and found his own hand in Alfred's vice grip, smiling just slightly.
“Yeah. Best friends.”
Even if Alfred was an annoyingly cheerful, dirty, loud-mouthed git, Arthur wouldn't have had it any other way.