AN: This story holds many similarities to monobuu's, one of the fandom's many great authors, fanfiction "Act Natural" and it's epilogue "Scripted." I admire her work and read her stores frequently, but that one fell into the back of mind, and somewhere along the way the ideas came back to me and ended up here. Forgive me if it seems like I copied; that wasn't my intention whatsoever.

On that note, her fic is pretty damn amazing. Go check it out! She's 'monobuu' on Livejournal. =)

Arthur Kirkland slammed his textbook of poetic elements shut and tossed it to the other end of the sofa he was laying on. He'd skimmed the chapters countless times, done all the work there was to do weeks in advance, and now the entertainment value, as well as the educational aspect, was gone.

"Damn it."

It had been four months since the twenty-one year old had arrived in the United States under a study-abroad program from London. With perfect marks, a clean medical and criminal record, and proper income, there was no reason for the Brit to not jump at such an opportunity. So far, the country was lovely, or at least Manhattan was. The city of New York wasn't nearly as disgusting or crime-ridden as films made it out to be.

However, there had been a serious lacking in Arthur's social life. It had been four months since he'd moved from home to New York.

It had also been four months since Arthur had gotten laid.

That wasn't to say he hadn't tried. Oh, he'd tried...it was almost pathetic. He'd go bar-hopping, but normally ended up too plastered to even speak to anyone without crying about something or other. Arthur didn't have friends with benefits...or friends at all, really. Mostly he had been absorbed by his studies.

And now here was the result; spending a cold Saturday evening in New York City alone in his apartment, with a pizza on it's way to his doorstep from some new joint a few blocks away. Arthur had a penchant for food that would probably kill him within twenty years. Who could blame him? New York pizza gained it's fame for a reason.

One couldn't shag a pizza, though...

He pressed a pillow to his face, feeling more and more irritated with himself. What was he doing wrong? Was flirting different in the States? Wasn't his accent supposed to be an aphrodisiac here? He'd received attention, both male and female, but no dates. Masturbating had lost it's appeal since he'd found that sex was far better, so that wasn't even an option anymore...

The sound of his buzzer going off pulled Arthur from his musings, with a voice grating through the intercom.

"Large anchovy for Kirkland? Room 3-3?"

Ah. The food had arrived. Arthur raised himself from the indentation he'd made on the sofa, sighing lightly as he moved to the intercom. With a press of a button and a monotone "I'll buzz you in," he did just that, unlocking the front door for the delivery man.

Oh, what a world...he was going to die here, wasn't he? Yes. Arthur would die here, in the States. He had another eight months of this solitude, this fatty eating. He sighed again and went for his wallet in the kitchen. What had it been, fifteen-something? Might as well give the guy twenty; that tip would suffice.

There was a knock at the door. Arthur straightened up his "I Love New York" sweatshirt his mother had sent him through the post (a gag gift?) and went to the door, shuffling the bills in his hand as he opened it.

"That'll be fifteen dollars and thirty cents, sir."

Arthur glanced up from the bills to the delivery man and was shell-shocked. The person in front of him was perhaps the most stunning human he'd ever seen. Blonde hair that looked clean and well-groomed, save for a strange little cowlick near the front. A smile that came off far too genuine for someone with a job like this, bright and happy. He was tall and well-built, and Arthur assumed the short-sleeved shirt he wore was part of the uniform the pizza shop required...God bless them; it showed this person's excellently toned arms very well. And his eyes were a shade of blue that Arthur couldn't recall ever seeing. They were utterly enchanting.

"...sir?"

Arthur had been staring at them. 'Shit,' he thought, averting his eyes to the money he was about to exchange for food. What the hell!? People like this existed! This person was-

His eyes went back over him as he handed over the proper amount, his vision catching a name tag.

'Alfred Jones.'

Alright then.

Alfred Jones was gorgeous.

"Enjoy your meal, sir."

The delivery-boy raised an arm in farewell, leaving the flushed college student with nothing but a pizza and a dazed expression.

...no! That couldn't be it!

"W-wait!"

Arthur called out to the young man, stepping out of his apartment. Oh Lord, his backside was just as good as his front. He watched as Alfred turned around, looking confused yet still wearing that same smile.

"Yes, sir?"

...shit, what had he been going to say? Arthur's mind was in total shutdown, with reboot being a slow process.

"H-how old are you? I thought this country had laws against child labor."

What the hell! That was the best he could come up with? Though he did look young...

Much to his relief, Alfred laughed, a loud, boisterous sound that echoed through the hall.

"Don't worry, dude. I turn twenty in July. Have a good evening."

Arthur kept his gaze fixed on Alfred's retreat into the elevator, wondering if the jeans the employee was sporting could possibly be any tighter.

...nineteen.

That was over eighteen.

That gorgeous man was of legal age.

Praise every deity.

Arthur let a few days pass before calling the pizza company again. He didn't want to appear desperate after all, or gluttonous. No, a few days wait was in order, and it had nearly killed Arthur. All he could think about was Alfred Jones, the delivery-boy.

God, it seemed so cliché when he thought about it, trying to seduce the pizza guy. Did that make him pathetic?

...of course not.

The Brit had fixed up his hair (as much as he could, anyhow) and was wearing something decent this time. No lazy home attire for him.

The buzzer went off, causing him to jump and run over immediately, listening to the voice screech through.

"Mushroom with peppers for Kirkland? Room 3-3?"

"I'll let you in."

Oh God, okay. Don't blow it. Don't come on too strong, just...act normal, like any person would when...trying to...fuck the pizza man...

Arthur suddenly realized just how stupid this was. All too late, though, as there was a knock on the door. He opened it, revealing yet again what may have been the most amazingly sculpted creature on Earth. Alfred grinned at him, causing Arthur's heart rate to skyrocket.

"Hello again, Mr. Kirkland. That'll be sixteen-fifty?"

Oh fuck, he remembered him. He'd said his name, at least partially. Damn that accent of his was sexy.

"Yes, here you are. Thank you..."

Arthur looked to his name tag, as if noticing it for the first time. As if the name 'Alfred Jones' hadn't been running through his mind for days.

"...Alfred."

He felt another jolt of delight as Alfred's smile grew wider.

"Enjoy your meal."

And off he went again. Wait! Wait!

"How is it outside?"

...how is it outside? The hell kind of question was that? Alfred turned and came back a few steps, talking.

"Well, it's definitely February. Freezing out there."

He pulled at the short sleeve as example. Arthur nodded.

"Well...would you like to come in? I've got hot cocoa, if you'd like to-"

Arthur coughed. Damn it, keep talking. If he could just get him inside, it'd be smooth sailing from there. Why was this so difficult?

"I-I mean, if you'd like to warm up for awhile?"

Alfred smiled softly, a new expression that melted Arthur's soul.

"That's real nice of you, Mr. Kirkland, but I gotta get going. My boss is kinda strict on time, ya know?"

"Oh. Well...yes, of course. I'm sorry."

The Brit cursed himself as he bid Alfred goodnight, turning back to his apartment. He heard the delivery-boy's retreating footsteps go to the elevator.

"Maybe some other time, though. I've got a bad habit of getting where I need to be too early. People hate me for it."

Arthur whirled around, seeing Alfred smiling and waving at him in the elevator just as the doors were closing.

...did...had...had Alfred just flirted with him?

Arthur hardly noticed that he was crushing the box of pizza in his grip. Damn his nerves...