The Wallflower Garden
Pairing: UKUS
Rating/Warnings: M for smut and language
Word Count: 5333
Summary: Arthur is an accountant in an office. Alfred is their IT guy. This is the story of how two coworkers with mutual crushes turn into lovers.
A/n: This was initially written for day 3 of Sweethearts Week, but now I've finally had the will to edit and post it where you all can see (I think I'm going to have some more, since I have a pile of unedited work and it is eyebrows day. The prompt was for something work-related. So have some office romance~
Alfred F. Jones hated his job. Well, no, that wasn't really true. He liked fixing the computers. He liked building new sites and new programs. He liked helping people.
What he hated was working nine to five in a stuffy suit. When he had gone to school to be a programmer he had seen himself as a renegade hacker, someone wearing a hoodie and jeans who went around and hacked into corporations and The Pentagon to free information for the masses. He hadn't expected the stale office air, the monkey suit, and the bad coffee. But it paid the bills. It paid the bills so that he could go home to his shitty apartment, play Xbox, order takeout, watch Family Guy, pet his cat, masturbate, and go to sleep. The next day just lather, rinse, grab a piece of toast on the way out the door and repeat. But at least he had something worth working for, even if that something was out of his way meaning he only saw "it" a few times a week.
He leaned back in his chair and rested his eyes for a minute. He'd been staring at the same two God-forsaken lines of code for two hours, desperately trying to figure out why the hell the program his boss wanted him to make wasn't dividing properly. What was wrong with Excel anyway? It wasn't like it couldn't do anything his boss wanted. But no, he wanted something different.
Alfred wondered if he could just play with an open-source Excel and change the coloring and his boss would take it.
He pushed back his chair and went to get another cup of the office's shit coffee. It was more of an excuse than anything, a reason to stretch his legs after being stuck in his cramped little cubicle all day.
Maybe he'd be better off if he just ignored it for now. He'd come back tomorrow and find that he'd transposed two characters. After all, it wasn't like the tech geek's work was ever done, especially in an office so small that all the programmers had to work IT too. An impressive amount of tickets had piled up while he struggled with his boss's stupid request.
Besides, there was one he'd been wanting to do since it popped into his inbox early that afternoon: a quick repair job for a certain A. A. Kirkland.
Arthur Kirkland simply hated work. If it was up to him he would have written a novel and spent the rest of his life embroidering happily at home. Instead, he was an accountant. It wasn't even like they really needed a person anymore. He was certain that they could just scan the receipts into the computer and it would do the math for him. He was sure that the only reason he hadn't been replaced with a monkey that had been taught to type numbers was because they'd have to pay the monkey more.
But that being said, there was something almost like meditation in the dreadful monotony of the work. He could just close his eyes and his fingers would dance across the keys, typing in the same numbers he'd tapped a million times. The ease of the work gave him time to think, to wonder about philosophy and art, science and religion. Often he'd look down at his hands, moving with barely any sort of command and think what a wonder the human body really was: able to do so many things without any input, any effort. Of course, it also gave him time to fantasize about the Jones boy, but that was another matter entirely.
He grinned as he realized he barely had any work left for the day. That was why no matter how often his computer "broke" his boss never said a word: He was one of the quickest and best at the office. He frowned, though, as he realized he had absolutely nothing to occupy the last two hours of his day. He could go onto word but he hadn't had a good idea for a story in weeks. If he started doing anything more obvious his boss would probably walk by and then he'd be in trouble.
Struck by an idea, he climbed under the desk to get to his computer's tower. He pulled out his Ethernet cable and stuffed a piece of paper into the port with a paperclip. He plugged the cable back in, checked to make sure that his Internet was down, and then looked over to the next cubicle.
"John?" He asked, "May I borrow your computer for a moment? I can't connect to the Internet and I need to tell IT."
Alfred hummed pleasantly to himself as he strolled down the hall. He got to see Kirkland! He was the prettiest face in the entire damn office and he was the wrong way from the break room and too far for him to peek in on the way back from the bathroom. Apparently this was his lucky day. Kirkland's internet wasn't working, so it probably wouldn't take very long. Alfred could hope, though.
"Hey there!" He said as he approached.
Kirkland jumped and shut minesweeper, "Bloody hell, you scared me!"
Oh that accent... Alfred had wondered so many times what it would be like to hear it moaning his name. He grinned, "Yeah, I know I'm terrifying."
"Shut up, twat!" Alfred's grin fell. That hurt! It hurt right in the chances of getting tail. "L-look, it's not as though I can do much at this point without Internet."
"I know; I was just giving you a hard time…"
"Right…" Kirkland looked away, starting an awkward silence.
"So, um, what exactly is the problem?"
"The computer doesn't see an internet connection."
"Right, can I have a look?"
Kirkland stood and Alfred took his place. Alfred looked through network connections. Everything looked right except, of course, for the fact that it said the cable was unplugged. Alfred rolled his eyes. How hard would it really be to switch to wifi? The cables were so old and spotty. He'd already been called twice in the last week with the same problem
"Did you restart the computer?"
"Yes."
Normally Alfred would do it anyway, but he didn't want to cause another awkward silence, so he just pushed the chair out of the way and crawled under the desk. Kirkland still hadn't taken his eyes off of him. Alfred blushed. The only thing still sticking out was his ass, so that means Kirkland was looking right at… He shook his head and began to inspect the computer itself. The cable was plugged in. He sighed. Not again. He jiggled the wire, hoping that would do the trick.
"Any change?"
"O-oh," Kirkland said, "I should be watching that, shouldn't I?"
Alfred ignored the way his heart sank at the fact he wasn't staring anymore to ask Kirkland the question again.
"No, still nothing."
He unplugged the chord and put it back in. "Now?"
"No."
This time, like a true child of the 90's, he blew into the port for one last attempt to solve the problem without having to get new parts. "How about now?"
"Nothing."
Alfred sighed and crawled out from under the desk, "Sorry, but this is gonna be a pain. It's probably either your cable, your port, or both. I don't have the parts here, though, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow.
Kirkland sighed. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, then, Jones."
"Alfred," Alfred said before he could think, "I want you to call me Alfred."
"O-oh. I'll do that. You can call me Arthur then, I suppose."
"Is that the first A or the second one?"
Ki- Arthur blushed, "Beg pardon?"
Stupid Alfred! Stupid, stupid, stupid, "W-well, everyone only calls you by your last name and your first and middle initials are the same and-"
"Oh right. It's my first name. I'm not too fond of my middle one, admittedly."
W-was he actually making small talk back? "Why? What's that one?"
Arthur scrunched up his nose, "Alexander."
"Arthur Alexander Kirkland," Alfred said out loud, "I donno, I think it sounds pretty cool."
"Well it's my name and I don't like the full version," Shit, he looked angry. Time to backpedal.
"Hey, don't worry. I don't like my whole name either."
"Really?"
"Alfred Franklin Jones. How much more stupid can a middle name get?"
"Alexander."
"Hey, I like that name! I gotta say, you don't look like an Alex, though."
He frowned, "That's because I'm not, idiot."
"But you do look like an Artie. Can I call you that?"
"No." He glared at Alfred, "And if you ever do so I will hurt you."
Dammit, that'd be hard to get out of. So, Alfred just laughed and walked away saying, "'Kay, Arthur, see ya tomorrow!" He hoped that was enough not to ruin everything.
It wasn't until the next office party that Arthur learned he hadn't scared Alfred away. Basically, some guy who had been with the company for thirty years was retiring and since he'd crawled his way up to upper management everyone had to act like they were happy for him and grateful for his work when they were really just glad for the free food and the afternoon off.
Arthur had managed to at least find a couple of people to talk to, so he was surprised to see Alfred sitting against the wall. He seemed to be concentrating on a game on his phone. His bow was furrowed and the tip of his tongue was sticking out from between his lips.
"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked sitting down next to him.
Alfred had been so enthralled in the game that he almost dropped the phone, "Oh, hey Arthur! What's up?"
"Nothing much. This is just getting rather dull, and I saw you sitting here, so…"
"Right," He laughed, "Ya know, I don't think I really know anyone here too well. They want us to stay in our little cubicles all day and then expect us to be all buddy-buddy at these things. It doesn't make any sense."
There was a moment of silence before Arthur asked, "So, anything interesting?"
"Nah, not really. Things have been pretty calm at least on my side of things. How's number crunching?"
Arthur shrugged, "As good as can be expected, I suppose. It's boring, but that's why I took the job."
"You wanted boring?"
"I wanted reliable and low-intensity."
"Yeah, so boring."
Arthur scowled, "Well, how did you end up here?"
"Ever since I saw Tron as a kid I knew I wanted to make programs. I like to make games and stuff in my spare time, but this pays the rent."
"I know what you mean."
"I thought you wanted boring."
"As I said, Alfred, reliable."
"Sure," Alfred smiled that beautiful, untroubled smile that Arthur had seen a million times from down the hall or across the room, "So what else did you want to do?"
Arthur took another swig of punch to gain a second to think about whether or not he wanted to tell him, "I like to write," He said, "I've had a few little things published, but nothing you'd have heard of."
"That's cool. Honestly, I probably haven't. I don't read as much as I used to. Busy life of an Internet junkie and all."
Arthur laughed, "Is that an actual term?"
"Workin' on it."
They sat together for a moment watching their coworkers mingle. For the first time, it was completely comfortable.
"You know, I wonder if this is why we're alone." Arthur said after a while.
"Huh?" Alfred asked, looking back at him.
"Most of these people live for this. I don't know what they see in it, but there's something for them. For us…" He trailed off.
"It's a way to make ends meet."
"Yeah," Arthur sighed and leaned back in his chair.
More time passed as they sat together, enjoying each other's presence. Then Arthur was struck by an idea.
"Hey, Alfred?"
"Yeah?"
"My flatmate's girlfriend is throwing a party this weekend. Would you mind coming and doing this?"
"You're asking me to show up to be a wallflower with you?"
"I-If you don't want to that's perfectly fine! It was just an idea. I'm sure I'll be perfectly fine without you. Better even! I can bring my notebook and-"
"Artie, I didn't say no."
"I told you not to call me tha- wait, what?"
He looked Alfred over, trying to discern if he was simply playing him for a fool, but he just smiled and said, "It's not like I have any plans. Besides, watching drunk people is always funny."
"It is, isn't it? In a terrible sadistic way, that is."
"Hell yeah."
And so in one afternoon, Arthur's hopeless crush turned into a tentative friendship.
Alfred hadn't been drunk in a long, long time. Honestly, it wasn't his thing. He didn't like the taste or the feeling and he really didn't like the regrets the next morning (or afternoon, as it often happened). What he did like, in contrast, was drinking Coke, watching people do stupid stuff, and making sure his friends got home in one piece.
"Come on, Alfred!" Arthur said, smiling and pushing a beer into his hands, "Never thought I'd be telling you to lighten up!"
Alfred scowled but took the can nonetheless. When he'd been invited he hadn't expected one of his old college buddies to be there and definitely hadn't expected him to share just about every single embarrassing party story that he could remember. Then Arthur decided to try to get him drunk so that he could see.
At least Arthur was as drunk as he was and his building was only two blocks away.
Besides, he thought as he drank, Arthur was just getting cuter and cuter. Maybe it was just the alcohol making him more likely to go after his office beauty, but part of it was Arthur too. He seemed happier than usual, smiling and laughing all the time. Oh, his smile was sexy.
"You like my smile, lad?" Oh hell, had he said that out loud? "Don't worry," Arthur pressed him back into an armchair, "I like yours too."
"W-what are you doing?" Alfred asked as Arthur straddled his lap.
"Thought all this time you were straight, that you wouldn't want me. Now that I know better, what would you say to a one night stand?"
"You're drunk," Alfred said, smiling and running his fingers through Arthur's hair.
"So are you."
"I want you to remember this."
He laughed, "I'm not that drunk. Just drunk enough to blame it if you don't want me in the morning. Just drunk enough to pretend I've forgotten on Monday if you want me to."
"Mmm… you seem to have thought this through."
"I was contemplating doing this right before you said my smile was sexy."
Arthur tipped his head to the side and kissed Alfred. It was sloppy and hot and passionate. They moved together almost too well, like Arthur knew what he was going to do before he did and he could react just as quickly to Arthur.
He wondered if the beer had put them on the same wavelength or something. Either way, this was starting to look like the best decision he would ever make while drunk.
"Get off me." He said.
"What?" Arthur looked hurt but moved anyway.
"I mean, we're gonna go to my place." Dammit, he shouldn't have been that drunk!
"Oh," He turned bright red, "Tha- That's better than a stranger's house."
"I thought so. Come on; let's stumble down the street together."
Arthur got off of him and together the two made their way through the maze of bodies and over to the door. The night air was cool on their faces, taking away some of the haziness that had come over them in the hot, humid house. Maybe there wouldn't be so much stumbling after all.
He still leaned on Arthur's shoulder, but more for the closeness than anything else. Arthur was warm and solid. Even though he smelled like booze and sweat, Alfred found he couldn't care less.
"You want to know something?" Arthur asked.
"What?"
"Remember that day we really met? You know, when my Internet broke."
"Yeah." It was- Hell, was it really only two weeks ago? It felt like he'd known him for so much longer than that.
"I broke it on purpose. Shoved a piece of paper as hard as I could into it. Just so you'd crawl under the desk and I could look at your arse." He laughed, "It worked too. I quite like this." He reached down and gave Alfred's butt an appreciative squeeze.
In spite of the fact that he'd usually feel embarrassed if anyone did that in such a public place, Alfred laughed too. "I knew it! I knew you were looking at my ass."
"You can't blame me, it's nice."
"You think so?"
"Yeah. Can't wait to get to your house. So many things I'd like to do to it!"
"You know, I really don't mind," Alfred said, meaning Arthur's destruction of his own Internet connection.
"I'm glad. Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do all sort of naughty things to you? Oh, Alfred, if you don't mind a bit of soreness in the morning I'm going to make you feel so good!"
Part of him wanted to tell Arthur to save his dirty talk for later. Part of him realized that he really didn't mind that either.
They made it the rest of the way to his apartment without any problem, with the exception of the trouble Alfred has with his lock. Neither of them noticed the piles of dishes in the sink or the empty pizza boxes or, once they reached Alfred's room, the clothes strewn everywhere. As soon as Alfred closed the door behind him Arthur was at his throat, licking and sucking.
"Not where they'll see!"
"I know that, idiot. You're killing the mood."
"Come on, we don't even have a mood yet!"
Arthur pushed him against the door and pressed his leg into Alfred's crotch, "You were saying?"
Alfred wasn't saying anything then. He was too busy moaning and rubbing against Arthur. He had no idea how aroused he was until he was standing there rutting against him. Oh, his thighs were so soft! He'd never thought about them before and now he couldn't imagine why he hadn't.
Christ, he couldn't figure out what he wanted from Arthur. He wanted to fuck, to be fucked, to blow him, to be blown by him. He wanted to be rough, to be gentile, to lay flat on his back, to have Arthur on his hands and knees under him. There were so many possibilities and only one night. Only one chance.
In the end, it was Arthur that made the choice for him. He kissed him and led him by the lips to the bed. Alfred allowed himself to be laid on his back, let Arthur clamber over him and began to tug at his clothes like someone's life was in danger. Alfred returned the favor as best he could, tugging at buttons and Arthur's belt. Somehow they managed to get naked, even though Alfred was trapped in his tee-shirt for a good minute.
"Wait," he said, gently touching Arthur's chest.
"What is it?"
"D-did you bring anything? I mean, all I have is the lotion that I use to-"
"Right! Oh, hell, where did my trousers go?" He peeled himself away from Alfred and began to rummage through one of the clothes piles.
Alfred propped himself up onto his elbows, admiring Arthur's body while he had the chance. He'd always imagined him as slight, almost feminine. He was wrong. True, Arthur wasn't built athletically. He had narrow shoulders and a narrower waist, but in spite of that he was undeniably masculine. In spite of the leanness of his frame he actually had muscles, small hard ones on his shoulders and chest and calves. Alfred's mouth watered at the sight of him, watching the way his back curved as he bent to inspect a pair of jeans. What had he done to be so lucky?
"Ah ha!" Arthur said, pulling out a single condom and a travel-sized bottle of lube, "I knew I was smart to grab these!"
"So you were planning to get me drunk from the start?" Alfred asked, grinning as Arthur returned.
"No, poppet," He kissed him on the nose, "I was planning to get myself drunk from the start. Otherwise I knew this would never happen."
Alfred laughed, "Only you would think of that!"
"You'd be surprised. It's a big world."
Not exactly the most romantic statement in the world, but nevertheless that was the last thing that Arthur said before he coated his fingers in lube and began to prepare Alfred.
Alfred willed himself to relax. He'd done this before, not as often as he would have liked, but more often than he'd admit in most circles. But it didn't help that Arthur was still just getting him used to anything being in there.
"You don't have to sit around. Find my prostate!"
Arthur rolled his eyes, "I do know what I'm doing."
"Then do it!"
"So picky…" Arthur muttered.
But nonetheless he began to search for Alfred's spot. He quickly found it and applied just a little bit of pressure. Alfred let out a high-pitched whine. Oh, he'd missed that feeling. He'd done it to himself often enough, but it was different to have someone else's hand there pressing against him.
"More!"
"Already?"
"Just do it!"
Arthur nodded and added a second finger. He began to spread them, reminding Alfred that as good as it felt just to be fingered there was something better waiting. His eyes traveled down the length of Arthur's body to look at his cock. He was ready and waiting, swollen and red. Alfred couldn't stop staring. Arthur was saying something, but that didn't matter while he was oogling. He wanted it, wanted it so badly…
"Alfred!"
"What?" He jumped, not the best idea when he already had two fingers inside of him.
"I'm asking you if you're ready to move on."
"Yeah." He picked up the condom and held it out.
"I meant for three fingers. I'm only on two."
"Come on, I'm drunk, but I can still feel that."
"But Alfred-"
"I can take it."
Arthur smiled and took the packet. Alfred watched him intently as he rolled it on and covered himself in lube. He seemed nervous as he got into position but Alfred brushed it off.
One night, he reminded himself, one chance. He wrapped his legs around Arthur's waist and kissed him passionately. Arthur slid in easily. It was a little tighter than usual, but not too bad. Alfred moaned into the kiss. If he'd liked being fingered he loved being fucked. What was it about a cock that stretched him so much better than fingers?
"Move," He breathed. "Come on, fuck me!"
"You're a bloody demanding lover," Arthur teased, running his fingers through Alfred's hair.
Alfred laughed but that turn into a moan as Arthur began to slide in and out. He let his eyes slide closed so that he could focus on the feeling of having another body above his, making the sexual contact feel all the better.
It's then that his memory starts to go fuzzy. It wasn't that he was that drunk, but more that he likes to embellish. Were those feelings from that time or his first time? Were those touches from then or later? It was all so muddled and confusing.
He hopes that the orgasm he remembers is the right one. In a moment of clarity, in the midst of rubbing and fucking and touching, Arthur looked down at him and smiled. He looked down and smiled and softly, very softly said, "I love you."
And then Alfred was done for the night.
The first thing that Arthur realized was that he wasn't in his bed. The smell was all wrong, more like sex and sweat and cheap aftershave than detergent. Then he realized that there was something heavy on his chest and something rough on his ear. His eyes flew open and he found the largest cat he'd ever seen in his life. It was like a mountain of white fur with a black ruff around its neck.
He, of course, did the only rational thing to do in his situation: scream.
Alfred walked into the room carrying a tray of food and grinning from ear to ear. His hair was damp, several shades darker and every bit of it flattened to his head save for that one stubborn little cowlick. He was almost fully dressed. He stood in the doorway dressed in a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans and a faded tee-shirt that would be more fitting to see on a teenager than a business man. In spite of that, it still somehow fit. How it went with the same face and wire-framed glasses that looked so good in a suit was a complete mystery to Arthur.
"Oh hey, I see you met Snickers!"
"Snickers?" Arthur said, looking down at the creature Alfred seemed to be calling his pet.
"Yeah, like the candy bar." The monster cat jumped off of Arthur's chest, causing him a good deal of pain, and rubbed against Alfred's leg, "I forgot to close the door on my way out and he wanted to say hi." He set the tray down on the bedside table and somehow lifted the thing into his arms, "He's such a sweetie-pie, yes he is!"
"I- never saw you as a cat person," Arthur said, trying to avoid the topic of the previous night.
"Neither did I, but I get lonely and my first apartment didn't let me have a dog. Anyway, I brought you some food. Thought you might be hungry."
"Thanks." Arthur said.
He took a piece of toast, covered it in butter and began to eat. Alfred did the same, but at a slower pace. He was clearly thinking about the night before. Damn him.
Arthur should have just picked up his clothes and left. That was what you were supposed to do, wasn't it? But it didn't feel right, not with the messy room and the monster cat and breakfast in bed. Maybe it just didn't feel right to do that to Alfred.
"So," Alfred said, giving Snickers a piece of bacon, "That was something, wasn't it?"
Arthur nearly choked. He had to grab one of the glasses of orange juice to force his toast down his throat. Alfred wasn't supposed to just say it like that! "Yes," He admitted once he could breathe normally again, "Yes it was."
Alfred reached for what Arthur presumed to be coffee next, "So what now?"
"What do you mean what now?"
"We had sex but you're still here. What do we do on Monday? Are we just pretending nothing happened, or are we going to make this a thing, or are we going to…" He swallowed, "Are we going to make us a thing?
"What are you asking?"
Alfred turned red, "You know what I'm asking."
"Are we going to be friends, friends with benefits, or in a relationship?"
Alfred took a deep breath, probably trying to figure out if it was a question that he actually wanted answered. Finally, he just said, "Yeah."
Arthur didn't know what to say. Hell, he'd only known Alfred for two weeks! He should have thought of this last night. When he had that nagging feeling before he actually started that there would be repercussions he should have listened. He should have actually paid attention to it. And now… Now what did he actually want?
Snickers seemed to tire of Alfred. He strutted over to Arthur and began to rub him, greeting a new possible playmate. Unbidden, Arthur's hand came up to stroke him. He smiled at the cat but it faded as he looked up to Alfred.
"If you need time to think it over, that's fine," Alfred said, "I mean, this was all pretty sudden, so I think that it would make sense if-"
"Alfred," Arthur said, cutting him off, "I think you're right."
"Arthur?" He sounded worried.
"We need to talk about this. What do you say we do so over dinner tonight? I'd like to go home to shower and change my clothes, but after that we could spend the rest of the day discussing-"
"Yes! Oh yes, oh yes!" Alfred practically pounced on him, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Arthur smiled and hugged him back, confident that he made the right choice.