I'm writing this fic as a birthday present to a good friend of mine. There may be a wee bit of OOCness since I'm not used to writing as either the hero nor the gentleman, so please excuse that. ^^;
Happy birthday, A!
Alfred sighed, leaning back in his desk chair while glancing up at the clock, watching as the agonizingly slow seconds ticked by. "Duuuuuuuuuude…" he whined, deserving an irritated hush from the professor at the front of the room.
The nineteen year old huffed, swiveling around in his seat to look at the other students behind him, heads still bent low over their work, pencils scribbling away.
"Keep your eyes on your paper only," said the teacher's gruff voice, bringing Alfred's mind back to earth. "Now get to work, lad. There are only fifteen minutes left of class."
Alfred pouted as he spun back around to face forward, practically wiggling in his seat. "But I totally finished all of my work Siiir..." he whined, plopping his chin into his hands, supporting them with his elbows.
Professor Wilcox, the newly hired physics teacher raised a doubtful eyebrow as he slowly approached Alfred's desk, picking up the paper laying on it. "Mr. Alfred F. H. Jones, is it?"
The youth grinned broadly, tilting back in his chair and wobbling on the two back legs. "That's me!"
"And tell me, what does 'F.H.' stand for?"
"It totally is!" he cried defensively, hopelessly trying to reinforce his claim on the initial's meaning.
The professor didn't reply though, old clever eyes scanning the scrawl of numbers and letters on the graph paper in his hands, not believing what he saw. "Mr. Jones, I thought I announced that no calculators were to be used for your work."
"You totally did, Professor."
"Then how would you like to explain this?" he asked, dangling the paper in front of Alfred's face.
"Well, I totally just used my brain, dude!" he stated matter of factly before gasping suddenly, jumping to his feet and slamming the flats of his hands on the desk. "Are you accusing me of cheating? ! Heroes totally don't cheat!" and with that, he picked up his backpack and dumped its contents straight out onto the desk.
Professor Wilcox took a surprised, involuntary step backwards at the lad's powerful exclamation, barely avoiding the Captain America and Superman comic books that went sliding off the desk and to the floor, as well as a few crumpled up hamburger wrappers.
"I don't even own anything stupid like a calculator! And my phone was totally turned off for class, dude!" in order to prove his point, he dug his battered looking phone out of his pocket, proceeding to slide it open and shut multiple times to show that the screen wouldn't light up, hence being shut off.
"Hmm…" Wilcox mumbled thoughtfully, eyes surveying the mess of pencils, books, papers, wrappers, and who knows what that now littered the desk. And, true to his pupil's word, there was no calculator. He eyed the sheet of paper in his hands once more, lost deep in thought. "Very good… Very well, Mr. Jones, you are excused from the rest of class. But I do ask that you please refrain from drawing on your work in the future. I'm afraid that numbers aren't supposed to wear capes… And is that eight wearing underwear?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow and causing a few of the other students to snicker quietly.
Alfred pouted as he unceremoniously stuffed all of the items back into his American flag print backpack. "Yes, siiiir." And with that, he darted out of the room, switching on his phone as he did so.
As soon as the phone had completely turned on, he immediately hit a speed dial number, impatiently waiting for the person on the receiving end to pick up. "Yo! Artie!" he shouted, voice echoing down the empty college hallway. "What d'ya mean don't shout? I'm totally not shouting! … No! I totally wouldn't cut class! How come everybody keeps thinking that I'm a cheater today? … I'm not lying! Dude! I totally finished up all of my work!" Alfred huffed as he listened to his friend continue on about the 'proper' way to attend class and how, according to the schedule he had printed up of Alfred's classes, he should still be in class for approximately another ten minutes.
"Duuuude, take a breath and let the hero talk! The teach totally let me out early 'cause of my super math skills!" he declared, beaming proudly while digging am iTouch out of his pocket and popping one of the ear-buds into his ear. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I totally did all of my woooork." He answered, rolling his eyes. "I'M NOT ROLLING MY EYES! What? Not a git! Stop calling me that dude! I'm totally a genius! Whateeeever dude! So, I'm totally coming home before work~ Whaat? I totally don't have any other motives! What would make ya think that? I'm totally a good, pure hero! I'd never do anything like that~" he said innocently, even though his face wore and evil grin. "Mhmm, whatever dude. …Dude? Arthur? Did you hang up on me? Arrrrrrrtie... Igggggy... ...Mr. Giiiirly Leeeeeeegs… Humph." He muttered, pulling the phone away from his ear with a pout, muttering something about it being rude to hang up on people as he cranked his music up to full blast.
Approximately twelve minutes later, the door of the apartment that Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland shared blew open, the younger of the two's voice already billowing in. "Ohhhhhhh no! They say he's gotta go, GO GO GODZILLA! Wheeeeheeee~ Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh no! There goes Tokyo! GO GO GODZILLA! Wheeeeheeeeee~ bhoooooing boingoiiingoiiin wheeeere" he sang, continuing in a failed attempt to carry on with the guitar solo of Blue Öyster Cult's 'Godzilla'.
"Alfred, would you quiet down? We do have neighbors, you know." grumbled twenty-three year old Arthur Kirkland, Alfred's roommate and best friend. But, alas, his comment had no effect on the disillusioned hero's continued vocal guitar solo.
Alfred threw his back-pack on the ground and started 'dancing' (Read: flailing about like a fish out of water) around their small living room, jumping up onto the coffee table, nearly upsetting Arthur's tea mug and kicking a small pile of magazines off in the process.
"Bloody hell! Get down from there!" Kirkland shouted, snatching up his book and cup in the nick of time before reaching up and yanking the ear-buds from Alfred's ears.
It took a moment for Alfred's brain to compute that the music was missing, but once he did, he bounced off of the coffee table, dropping onto the sofa beside his British friend, wearing a pout on his face. "Duuude, what was that for? I was totally rocking out!"
"Ah, it appeared to me more as if you were simply having a seizure." Arthur stated dryly, pulling out his handkerchief and rubbing the scuff marks off the coffee table.
"Awww, Iggy, come on! Lighten up a bit, dude!" Alfred complained, poking Arthur's arm.
"Sod off, prick." The Brit mumbled while settling back with the book that he had been reading before Alfred barged in. "Oh yes, and there's mail for you on th- BUGGER! This is a couch, not a child's jungle gym! You don't climb over it like that!" he hollered, chucking a throw pillow at the back of the younger's head as he bee-lined straight for the dining room table, digging through the envelopes.
"Sweet!" he shouted, hefting his fist into the air, clutching two envelopes before promptly turning them into shreds of paper as he tore into them. "Dude! They came! Hahaha ha! This is totally awesome!"
Arthur blinked at Alfred, frowning slightly as he rose to his feet, coming to peer over the amped up hero's shoulder. "What is it?" he asked, curious.
Arthur stared at Alfred blankly for a moment, waiting for him to indulge him upon what the tickets were for. "…What sort of tickets?"
This revelation took Kirkland by complete surprise, causing his cheeks to glow pink. Alfred? Was going to take him to the Fairy Lovers Anonymous Convention? Well, this boy certainly is full of surprises! "Alfred! I-"
"Yeah dude! For the anime convention going on in town!"
Arthur's daydream was immediately shattered, causing his thick eyebrows to furrow and a scowl to replace the smile he had worn for a short moment. "You bloody prat." He snapped, smacking the American on the back of the head with the heavy Macy's catalogue that had come accompanied them in the mail.
"Oww! Dude!" he whined. "What was that for? That's totally uncool!"
"You go ahead and go spend all of your time with.. with Japanese and… and the other wankers at that stupid convention of yours! I don't care!" he shouted, stomping off to the kitchen.
Alfred blinked in Arthur's general direction in confusion before running after him, waving the two badges around in the air. "Dude! Hold on a sec! I totally got you a badge too! See?" he held up the card that read:
New York Anime Festival
'British Dude' yanked the badge from Alfred's extended hand and blinked at it before giving him a dubious, shocked look. "You wanker! You expect me to attend a bloody anime convention with you?"
"Totally! Come on, dude! It'll be totally awesome!"
"Belt up! I won't be seen at a festival that's merely meant to heighten Japan's cartoons and culture!"
This outlash deserved a loud, offended gasp from Alfred, who stared at Arthur as if he was an alien. "They're totally not cartoons, dude! It's anime! A-NEH-MAY! You know what? You totally don't even deserve to go to such an epic thing! I'm just going to find a different Arthur Kirkland to take with me!" and with a huff, Alfred stomped off to the kitchen to make himself his after school snack (Read: feast).
Arthur looked after him before shaking his head and settling back down with his newspaper. "Prat…" he muttered, sitting back down and trying to find where he had been in his book before being so rudely interrupted.
Shortly later, Alfred came tromping back into the room, balancing an eight layer turkey/ham/tuna/salami/burger/chicken sandwich on a plate, while carrying an entire bag of potato chips and a bottle of coca-cola in his other hand. Arthur humphed as the hero passed him, pulling his legs up onto the couch to keep the filthy pig from sitting beside him.
The sound of Alfred's rhythmic crunching and slurping began to fill the room, a sound of which Kirkland had should have grown accustomed to by now. But, something else was causing him to squirm, growing uncomfortable. He finally took the risk and peeked over the top of the paper in Alfred's direction, immediately making contact with those sky blue eyes.
The Brit cleared his throat and shifted, ducking back down behind the book. His eyes concentrated on a paragraph, reading over the same phrase over and over. But the feeling of the steady gaze that was still focused on him, despite the continued sound of crunching, munching, and potato bag crinkling began to wear down on his defenses. A few minutes later, he looked back over, just to find that Alfred was now giving him the saddest, most sorrowful puppy dog pout that he could muster.
"Oh… bollocks." Arthur muttered, marking his page and laying the book down on the coffee table. "Fine, Alfred. I'll go to your bloody festival with you."
Alfred hopped up with a triumphant grin, scattering the chips everywhere. "Awesome! 'cause I totally already have our cosplay ordered!"
Arthur stared at him blankly. "…I beg your pardon?"
"I already bought our cosplay! Why do ya think I even got job?"
"To save for colle-… That's besides the point, Alfred! What the bloody hell is this 'cosplay'?"
"It's totally when you wear costumes to cons! Ya know, like how I go to the Star Wars conventions as Anakin 'cause I'm the chosen one of the world!"
A look of complete and utter horror was beginning to grow on the Brit's face, eyes widening until they were the size of saucers. "Hell no! I'm not going to do something so preposterous… and..and American as wearing a bloody costume to a bloody festival!"
"But, Iggy.. you totally went to Gallifrey One dressed as the Doctor…"
"The Doctor is not one of your made up characters!" Arthur all but yelled at Alfred, shaking a finger in the American's face. "He is perfectly real!"
"Dude! Doctor Who is just England's totally made up attempt at beating America and our Star Wars!"
"Bollocks! Doctor Who originally aired in 1963! Over an entire DECADE before your beloved Star Wars was even brought it the storyboard! It was you bloody yanks who stole the idea from the Brits!"
"Duuuude," Alfie chimed, patting the outraged Doctor want to be on the shoulder. "It's totally ok. Go ahead and keep lying to yourself. 'sides, if you didn't like Star Wars, how come you know when it was released?~" he asked with a wink, dropping the badge's lanyard around Arthur's neck before beginning to hum the Star Wars Main Title to himself as he walked to the kitchen.
Arthur just stared at Alfred's broad, retreating back before stomping after him. "Git! Tell me what costumes you ordered!"
Thank you for reading! Comments and favorites are highly appreciated~ I'll be adding another chapter (and perhaps the final, we'll see) soon.