"Arthur! Wait, Arthur, what the hell!"
Alfred threw several bills on the table before he ran after Arthur.
As soon as Arthur had gotten away from the restaurant, he remembered he had absolutely no way to get anywhere, and on top of everything, it was freezing.
He felt like an over-reactive idiot. He sucked in a breath of winter air, hands shaking.
The Brit wheeled around to face Jones, pain and confusion flickering across his face.
"What do you want?! To tell me I'm disgusting?"
Alfred's face crumpled.
"You honestly think I would say that?"
Arthur narrowed his eyes, searing anger flaring within me despite the cold weather. He didn't want to care what Alfred thought anymore. "It's something a kid like you would say."
The singer stepped toward Arthur, face reddening.
"A kid?! What's wrong with you? At least I don't go running away from the things that scare me, huh? Like hell I'm homophobic." He shouted the last sentence, then let out a strangled laugh.
"Wonder why my dad said that stuff to me? I came home from kindergarten talking about the pretty boy I liked."
Arthur stopped, the world falling very still.
Alfred was walking towards Arthur now.
"I knew it." Arthur whispered.
He heard Alfred stop abruptly.
"Then what the fuck was that?!"
Arthur stood staring at the rough ground.
"Why do you even care? Someone as famous as you, why do you take me to lunch, to anything?"
"I asked first."
Arthur snorted at Jones' sliver of childish charm. He tried to remember the advice so often given to him by therapists in his smaller years. Say what you feel Arthur. Don't insult people. You want friends don't you?
Arthur took a deep breath.
"Alfred are you aware of how intimidating it is to spend time with you? I live a very small life compared to yours. It worries me that you want to spend time with me, and I'm afraid I'm not getting something about this arrangement. Do I have something you want, and when you get it, are you going to cast me aside?"
Arthur looked down again.
"I won't 'cast you aside'. That would make me a major douche. Just cuz I'm famous or something doesn't make me a bad guy."
Despite Alfred trying to reassure him, something twisted in Arthur's throat and he found he couldn't reply.
Alfred walked up to the smaller man and wrapped his arms around him, breath billowing into the air.
Chuckling, he stepped back.
"Lets get in the car and we'll work on your trust issues later."
Grudgingly impressed at the forgiving nature of Alfred Jones, Arthur followed, pretending not to hear Alfred's murmured "and I thought I had issues."
The ride home was awkward, to say the least. Arthur looked pointedly out the window, watching a few flakes of snow drift to the ground and hating himself. Alfred turned on the radio and one of his songs came on. He winced slightly and changed the channel.
"I get sick of my own music."
Arthur hummed in understanding.
The Brit shifted positions, and Alfred drummed his fingers on the steering wheel a bit.
Arthur squared his shoulders in preparation to speak, but Alfred beat him to it, blurting, "Lunch was really enjoyable until it was horrible."
His eyes widened.
"Fuck. That sounded way better in my head."
Arthur sat frozen for a moment longer in sharp silence before uncontrollable laughter burst from his mouth. Alfred sure knew how to break the ice.
"I couldn't have put it better myself."
Alfred ginned. "Wanna re-do lunch? Forget about today? You can just come to my house and stuff."
"Hey, sorry I don't talk fancily like you. Just come over?"
"I'd actually love to, but my flight leaves tomorrow morning."
Alfred turned to his passenger, eyebrow raised.
"Dude, are you serious?"
Arthur reached out and pushed his face to the forward position. He was a believer in safe driving and wasn't about to let the admittedly handsome face of Alfred Jones sway his opinions.
"Eyes front. And of course I'm serious."
"You'll make lunch then."
"Alfred Jones if you cancel my flight in order to have lunch I will flay you alive, not to mention what the other angry commuters will do when I tell them you are responsible."
Alfred started laughing.
"I'm not going to cancel your flight, there's a blizzard coming in."
Arthur turned to the singer, remembering the weather report he'd looked at briefly. He hadn't given it a second thought.
"Are you sure the planes will be grounded?"
"Almost positive. We mean snow when we say snow."
"I have to get another night at the hotel then!"
An excited smile was spreading across Alfred's lips. "Arthur, how about you just stay at my house?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "No thanks."
Alfred stuck out his lower lip. "There's an extra bedroom so you have your English-y privacy and you'll get a feel of the Jones household experience. For your report thing. It'd be good."
Arthur squinted at the American.
His eyes had a mischievous gleam.
Something was up.
"Are there ulterior motives involved here?"
The American's cheeks colored. "No."
"I don't—you know what, fine. Fine."
Arthur had no idea what had happened. Somehow he found himself pulling his rental car into the long driveway of the Jones's house yet again, this time with his suitcase. Snow whirled past the windows and the roads had already become slick with accumulation. His flight had indeed been delayed, he'd never feel comfortable eating lunch again, and in other news, Alfred Jones liked men.
He needed a drink.
A/N: Stay tuned for drunk idiots! (Unless this sounds uninteresting, in which case please pm me?)
Also, FAQ of the day: Why in the hell did I disappear again?
It's a long boring story that involves me nearly getting hospitalized, singing in Italian, death, and deciding I want to learn French.
Quiet times indeed. (I am 100% serious).
I apologize for the infrequency but thank you to all who are able to bare with my inconsistency. It will probably continue (and I' so sorry about it). I know this is badly edited and ugh. I figure I owe you who have stuck around the best I can do at the moment. Thank you~