Anticipate the Unexpected [Alfred]

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1200

Tags: Arthur

Notes: Vague answers are always the best answers~

It was a little naive, he supposed, to be able to so easily feel relaxed around Arthur again but that was simply the way things worked with Alfred. Alfred leaned back a little as the two of them talked, settling back into the familiar rhythm.

"Anything is better than what we're offered, I'm sure." Alfred glanced over at Arthur as he spoke. There was a wistful sound to his words, though his tone remained light.

Being on a contract, especially to Francis, must be wonderful for Arthur. It meant good food and company. It meant, at least with Francis, a warm bed to sleep in and clean clothes to wear. Alfred didn't know how long Arthur would be here or why Francis had chosen to specifically buy Arthur, but for Arthur it must've been just short of a blessing.

And maybe that sounded nice and all, but things shouldn't be that way. Arthur, and all mutants, were human. They shouldn't be auctioned like pets and sold like dogs. They deserved so much more than what they were getting.

"I'd like to try—cooking, I mean." Alfred glanced at Arthur curiously. He wasn't sure he'd pin Arthur as the cooking type, but the guy had probably never tried.

"You can probably ask Francis," Alfred said with a smile. "There's no way you can do worse than I did in his kitchen. Francis would probably be pretty open to letting you mess around for a bit."

Alfred tapped his fingers against the desk, the familiar rhythm making him smile a little. Arthur seemed to be taking a moment to formulate exactly what he wanted to say.

"You admire the unconventional, I take it—those who question and challenge the structure of society?"

Alfred paused. What was the safest answer to that question? This was Francis's house, a place where Alfred was able to speak freely about his views on society. There was, of course, always the slightest possibility that that might not be the case, but Francis was careful. He had to be, to do what he did. Indeed, there shouldn't really be too much of a reason why Alfred couldn't just come out with what he did.

Still. Alfred was naturally a little suspicious. It would be stupid not to be, and while Alfred could certainly be impulsive, he wasn't quite on that level of idiocy yet. Besides, this was Francis's house. It was Francis's choice of whether or not he should tell Arthur about his political decision.

"I come from a country that was founded on revolution," Alfred said, speaking slowly. He drummed his fingers against the table as he thought of how exactly to phrase his thoughts. "And yes...I believe...that the only way anything gets better is when people choose to...come to their own conclusions."

Nothing incriminating, but Alfred was sure that Arthur would understand the gist of what he was saying. "Ah, well. A little anarchy never hurt anybody." Alfred chuckled a little. "Or is that just me?"

Arthur didn't interrupt while Alfred answered his own questions and made little comment about it overall. He seemed rather lost in thought, to be honest, which might work better for both of them. Certainly, Alfred chose to read it that way.

When Alfred suggested that Arthur ask him questions though, Arthur's expression changed. He smiled a little in amusement, his eyes lighting up mischievously. Alfred wondered if it had been a mistake, letting Arthur ask whatever. He could lie though, couldn't he? He'd shown himself to be fairly proficient at it these past few years.

"Oh? You want me to indulge my curiosity, Mr. Jones? I’m sure you’ve discovered by now that it’s rather insatiable. Do you think you can handle it?"

Alfred made a face. "First, don't call me Mr. Jones," he said. "Alfred. Just Alfred. Mr. Jones makes me sound like a middle-aged teacher. And secondly..." Alfred tapped his fingers against the desk again. "Well, it's better than beating around the bush, isn't it? You've been pretty determined to try to figure things out and I don't think you're going to stop any time soon. What's the worst that could happen?" Alfred laughed a little, though mentally he was scolding himself. He should be more careful. Maybe he should...

"Very well." Well, there went his chance to take things back. Arthur paused before asking his first question.

"What do you do for a living?"

...Well, shit.

...He really had set himself up for that, hadn't he?

Alfred busied himself with possible responses. There were two go-to responses that Alfred had for that question, both technically, if not completely true. He often called himself a salesman of sorts. Of course, that sometimes led to the question of what company he worked for, but Alfred figured that Arthur had little knowledge of the businesses in Archadia.

There was also the possibility of stating that he was self-employed, but that was such a vague answer, though he supposed that—

"Before you answer that, I’d like to add a simple rule. Just in case you’re tempted, I prefer silence over a lie."

Lying was easier, that was certainly true. It would've been easy to lie to Arthur about his job. It was fairly likely that he would forget by the time Alfred left. But, in a way, Arthur had offered him a way out. So Alfred stayed silent until Arthur had asked his next question.

"It's obvious you're not from around here, so I suppose that begs the obvious question—what brought you to this cesspool of a city?"

...Yet another difficult question. Alfred bit his lip as he thought about how to answer. No lies...but no truth either.

Matthew. That was why he'd come here. It seemed like so much of the person he was today could be credited to his brother. But he didn't want to talk about his past or Matthew. A sense of guilt filled him once again. He still hadn't found his brother. It had been years since he'd last seen him, he should've...

He had to answer Arthur's question. He hadn't answered the first one and staying silent on both would only pique Arthur's curiosity even more.

"I came here...to look for someone," Alfred began. He didn't want to say family, because that would beg the question as to why he had family in Russia in the first place. Like Arthur had said, it was fairly obvious that he wasn't from around here. "Someone important to me." He flexed his fingers, clenching and unclenching his fist as he spoke. "I didn't end up finding them. And I couldn't go back..." Alfred was tempted to say home, but home didn't really exist anymore. What was home without family? "I couldn't go back either, so I ended up staying here."

Would that be a sufficient enough answer for Arthur? Alfred hoped so. He wanted to shift away from the topic. Normally he would've made something cheerful and ordinary up, but Alfred suspected Arthur would have been able to see through that easily.

"Anything else?" Alfred asked weakly. Surely there could not be anything worse. "Might as well satisfy your curiosity while you can."

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Arthur W. Kirkland]

tag;; Alfred
words;; 1252
notes;; a far better question uwu

Arthur would’ve likely reacted strongly with the direction of Alfred’s thoughts. No matter how blissful the luxury of living anywhere that wasn’t within the conditions of the Underground, the cold, concrete walls was a place that he would forever claim preference to if it meant that he wouldn’t be sold, rented out as property. Every contract that was formed was added injury to his pride. Still, even after being chipped and passing between the hands of different owners, it would be difficult for Arthur to change his stance, his rare view regarding his own situation as well as the situation of other mutants.

"You can probably ask Francis. There's no way you can do worse than I did in his kitchen. Francis would probably be pretty open to letting you mess around for a bit." Arthur felt an odd mixture of feelings when Alfred mentioned asking Francis’s permission. A touch of resentment for the subtle reminder that he was in another man’s home, under a legal and binding contract, even if it was the perfectly proper thing to do in another’s home. ”If he happens to be around for me to ask,” Arthur reiterated, his tone neutral and unperturbed. His lips pressed tightly together in thought for a brief moment before glancing back at Alfred. His mouth softened into something less severe. ”So far, the most use I’ve seen from it has been by the servants. I assume using it while its otherwise empty wouldn’t be too revolutionary of me.”

It was becoming rapidly clear that Francis was quite unlike other potential buyers at the auction. He didn’t treat him how Arthur expected to be treated and there didn’t seem to be much opposition to the small hints about him that revealed just how ‘improperly’ trained he was to be someone’s pet. He was probably one of the worst selections in the Underground for that purpose. That was perhaps what caused him to be emboldened by his own brand of questions toward Alfred. Arthur had very little to lose by flitting about scandalous topics, and in some small measure, it amused him to see the range of reactions that he could draw from Alfred with such words.

"I come from a country that was founded on revolution. And yes...I believe...that the only way anything gets better is when people choose to...come to their own conclusions. Ah, well. A little anarchy never hurt anybody. Or is that just me?"

Still, Alfred’s answer was pleasing enough. It was more than what he was expecting and the subtly of it pleased him even more, stirring that hidden well of dry amusement. Arthur reflected Alfred’s amusement, a smile briefly shown. ”No, you’re certainly not the only one.” His own fingers tightened against the edge of the table when the side of his hand accidentally brushed against the edge of Alfred’s as the man continued to drum a steady rhythm against the wood. A prickled warmth very briefly crossed the surface of Arthur’s skin, but he ignored it for now. Even so, he found that he was suddenly very much aware of the few milimetres that separated them alongside the edge of the desk. The rush of warmth reached his face before dissipating. He had to search his thoughts, losing them for that small moment. ”A little anarchy is necessary every so often. Aside from the much needed criticism over a free-reign government, it keeps things interesting at the very least, wouldn’t you say?” he glanced over at Alfred, a certain gleam hounding his gaze, something between a hint of sly mischief and something that was carefully, purposefully casual.

"First, don't call me Mr. Jones. Alfred. Just Alfred. Mr. Jones makes me sound like a middle-aged teacher. And secondly... Well, it's better than beating around the bush, isn't it? You've been pretty determined to try to figure things out and I don't think you're going to stop any time soon. What's the worst that could happen?"

Arthur gave Alfred a small grin when he noticed the face that he was making at his little ‘Mr. Jones’ remark. ”Oh really? I thought that it made you sound rather debonair,” he countered, his voice slightly lowered to match what he’d been playfully aiming to achieve with his name, and his eyes alight with teasing. His amused expression grew when Alfred continued to speak, stating that he seemed determined to figure Alfred out. ”Quite perceptive of you, Just Alfred,” the bit of teasing didn’t let up when he reiterated what Alfred had said he preferred. ”Although you make it sound like I’m out to devour you with my curiosity. I don’t bite.” Hard.

Unsurprisingly, Alfred’s silence toward his first question confirmed Arthur’s initial suspicion that his job, or whatever it was that he did, was the real secret. His first inquisition upon meeting him was the secret that Alfred continued to hold close despite Arthur’s small efforts. Hearing Alfred’s answer to his next question, a question that he’d thought was an innocent one, felt quite a bit heavier than anticipated. ”I came here… to look for someone. Someone important to me. I didn’t end up finding them. And I couldn’t go back… I couldn’t go back either, so I ended up staying here.”

He felt like a small stone had been dropped into the pit of his stomach, a light wave of something that felt close to nausea, knowing that the demand for honesty was the cause of Alfred’s obvious discomfort, with the way he clenched his fingers and spoke nearly haltingly, carefully thinking through his words. ”I’m sorry…” Arthur glanced forward at the bookshelves, straight in their line of sight, a small semblance of hardness had entered his expression. He wasn’t used to ushering out apologies unless he felt that it was necessary. ”In the Underground, it’s almost considered an unspoken courtesy to avoid asking about things that are better left buried in the past. I’m sure you can guess that most mutants have unhappy beginnings. Most have things in it they’d rather forget, everyone’s either looking for the lost pieces of their past, looking for that important someone, or they never had that someone to lose in the first place.” He paused, daring a glimpse at Alfred, his eyes briefly finding his. ”It’s easy to forget that the same can easily apply to everyone else.” He gave Alfred a weak smile, the corners of this mouth only curving slightly, but the intent was clear. ”There—a prejudgment against those not bound by the Underground, I’ll admit. I should’ve extended the same courtesy to you.”

His expression lost a bit of its previous rigidity and the corners of his mouth relaxed after the impromptu confession and apology. ”I hope you find that important someone,” his voice reflected a hint of softness, a certain empathy for what Alfred was implying.

”Anything else? Might as well satisfy your curiosity while you can.”

The poor man needed a break; that much was clear. Earlier reverberations of guilt from the previous forced confession sealed Arthur’s resolution. The handsomely crafted clock in the library struck the early evening hour. ”I do have one more thing I am rather curious about—“ Arthur’s expression was lighter than before, close to what it had been before the heavier admission. "It’s getting close to dinner and it’s already been established that there’s a beautifully, empty kitchen that hasn’t been getting much use since my arrival… Perhaps we should remedy that.” Behind the request was Arthur’s only real intent throughout their entire meeting: he didn’t want to be left alone. He leaned close, giving another little push against Alfred’s shoulder with his, accompanied with an inviting glance. ”You’ve given me my first tour, so why not also stay for dinner? Share with my first cooking experience?” That was hopefully a question that was a hell of a lot easier to answer. Even if dinner ended up being a right mess, at least it would be a memorable first. And if Arthur could remember correctly, there was quite a bit of alcohol just waiting to be opened moments away from the kitchen... a necessary addition.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1248

Tags: Arthur

Notes: I'm sorry this took so long. orz

"If he happens to be around for me to ask."

Alfred glanced up at Arthur. There was something about his tone...it wasn't bitter, per se, but perhaps unhappy? That's how he looked at least.

"Really? That's weird..." Alfred frowned. Francis hadn't been around? He couldn't think of why...no wonder Arthur had been so eager to talk to him. He must not have had a lot of company in the past few days (or weeks? Alfred didn't know how long he'd been in Francis' house). It brought Alfred back to the question of why Francis had chosen to buy Arthur in the first place. An ally in the Underground? Maybe...but then why would he ignore the mutant and not want to get close to the man?

Either way, Alfred disapproved.

"So far," Arthur continued, "the most use I’ve seen from it has been by the servants. I assume using it while its otherwise empty wouldn’t be too revolutionary of me."

"Well then, I say wreak havoc and have fun." Alfred grinned. "Just don't tell Francis I told you to do so. He might ban me from coming here."

The topic changed to revolution and freedom and Alfred couldn't help but smile a little. It was unnervingly easy to talk about this with Arthur. And it was quite a coincidence that they had met under Francis' roof, where Alfred was willing to talk about it. Of course, their words were still careful, only implications hinting at what they really felt. It was unnecessary, but again, that was for Francis to tell, not Alfred.

"No, you're certainly not the only one," Arthur replied with a smile. "A little anarchy is necessary every so often. Aside from the much needed criticism over a free-reign government, it keeps things interesting at the very least, wouldn’t you say?"

"Exactly," Alfred looked over at Arthur with a grin. "The world would be dull if everyone played by the rules and was a good little soldier."

Arthur seemed very amused when Alfred mentioned calling him 'Mr. Jones.' "Oh really? I thought that it made you sound rather debonair."

...Was Arthur teasing him?

Debonair? What did that even mean? Whatever it was, Alfred highly doubted he fit the description. He was a high school dropout, he should not be expected to know this, jeez.

Alfred stuck out his tongue at the man. "You're so British with that accent of yours. Tossing around those big, fancy words. So British."

"Quite perceptive of you, Just Alfred." Alfred made another face, crinkling up his nose. "Although you make it sound like I’m out to devour you with my curiosity. I don’t bite."

"Hey, you can't blame me," Alfred said, shrugging. "And I suppose you could be worse. You're not all that bad. And you make good company."

Alfred swallowed as he thought of Matthew while telling Arthur why he was in Archadia in the first place. Guilt swept over him again. His brother...why had he run? It was shameful, cowardly... He was supposed to be brave. He was supposed to be the older brother, the dependable one...

No, he couldn't think of Matthew.

Arthur was silent for a long while (too long, really) and Alfred was just about to change the topic when Arthur spoke. "I'm sorry."

The apology was surprising. "No, you shouldn't be, you wouldn't have known." Let's just move on.

"In the Underground, it’s almost considered an unspoken courtesy to avoid asking about things that are better left buried in the past. I’m sure you can guess that most mutants have unhappy beginnings. Most have things in it they’d rather forget, everyone’s either looking for the lost pieces of their past, looking for that important someone, or they never had that someone to lose in the first place."

Alfred was silent as Arthur talked. Of course. Everyone in the Underground (or almost everyone) had gone through much worse. That's why he shouldn't complain. In the Underground, his story was far from the most tragic. It might even be considered commonplace. Everyone in the Underground had once had someone important in their lives. They'd not only lost their freedom in the Underground, they'd lost their entire lives as well. Alfred sometimes forgot that. Well, perhaps not forgot, but he sometimes needed to put his own worries into perspective. Arthur had no doubt experienced worse than he had. It was impossible, really, for Alfred to truly relate. It should be Alfred apologizing, not the other way around.

Arthur paused, briefly meeting Alfred's gaze, before continuing. "It’s easy to forget that the same can easily apply to everyone else. There's—a prejudgment against those not bound by the Underground, I’ll admit. I should’ve extended the same courtesy to you."

Alfred didn't know what to say, to be quite honest. Luckily, Arthur gave him something to go off of as his expression softened. "I hope you find that important someone."

"I hope so too," Alfred said, automatically putting on a soft smile. He didn't believe his words. He hadn't seen Matthew in three years. He hadn't seen Matthew on his visits to the Underground or, before Matthew turned 18, to Weeds. Alfred had always been an optimistic person, but in the past three years, that had been corrupted. Part of him clung onto the belief that Matthew had to be alive. The other, and Alfred listened to this side more frequently, thought that he must already be dead. That Alfred was searching for a ghost.

Fortunately, Arthur took Alfred's hint and changed the topic. Good. He didn't want pity. "I do have one more thing I am rather curious about—" Alfred stiffened instinctively.

"It’s getting close to dinner and it’s already been established that there’s a beautifully, empty kitchen that hasn’t been getting much use since my arrival… Perhaps we should remedy that." Arthur nudged Alfred playfully with his shoulder as Alfred relaxed. "You’ve given me my first tour, so why not also stay for dinner? Share with my first cooking experience?"

Alfred jumped down from the table, grinning. "It'd be my honor," he said, winking as he sunk into a deep bow before sauntering off towards the door.

"We can pretty much mess around," Alfred said as he held the door open for Arthur. "Francis has got just about everything. I'm not as good of a cook as he is so I can't do much of the fancy schmancy stuff—not that I really think you'd want to eat snails—but I'm sure we can whip something together. Maybe..." Alfred glanced down at his stomach which rumbled in agreement. "Maybe burgers! I'm good at those and they're super easy and fun to make. A bit messy, but they're a really good beginner food and basically the best food that you'll ever eat. I'm sure Francis has a grill somewhere, I saw him use it last time I came..." Alfred's eyes shone with excitement. He knew he was ranting now, but he didn't particularly care.

They reached the stairs and for a moment, Alfred was tempted to slide down the bannister. Francis wasn't there for once after all. He resisted the urge, if only because it would've been rude to do so unless...

"Hey." Alfred poked Arthur on the shoulder, a mischievous smile on his face. "Francis isn't around. Wanna try something new? Not sure if you got to do this while Francis was out, but even if you did, there's no reason not to right now."

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Arthur W. Kirkland]

tag;; Alfred
words;; 1073
notes;; c;

Arthur made note of Alfred’s words when he stated that the absence of company for the past two days was odd. So, this wasn’t the norm, then? He supposed that was relief enough—he was likely to sneak out to find company instead of wasting his temporary freedom waiting indoors for the man who’d bought him to make small talk or to take him out to see the city. He snorted softly at Alfred’s suggestion to wreak havoc and have fun regardless. ”As much as I can get away with,” a whisper of a smirk making its way over his expression, glancing bemusedly at Alfred.

"Just don't tell Francis I told you to do so. He might ban me from coming here."

”Of course not — as long as you indulge me by participating.” It wasn’t a real ultimatum, of course. It wasn’t his place to go about demanding things as if he were human, but it was part of the tease and perhaps, yes, a part of him did want Alfred to stick around a little longer.

He was feeling a little better the longer they talked about things that they normally wouldn’t be able to talk about. Sure, it was hinting at much serious subjects rather than speaking freely about them, but that was far more than Arthur had ever been able to do at Weeds or the Underground. The vast majority of life was spent in selective silence, he wasn’t allowed to talk about certain topics and he had to keep from sharing his own sentiments on forbidden ideas of tearing down the structure that perpetuated this poisonous cycle.

"You're so British with that accent of yours. Tossing around those big, fancy words. So British." When Alfred stuck his tongue out at him, Arthur leaned over to bump him with his shoulder, a little harder than before as retribution, but the corners of his mouth along with his expression remained softened. “How American of you to point that out—Why? Do you like it?,” he teased back, a playful gleam to his eyes. “'Mr. Jones' makes you sound refined,” his previous expression became a small grin as he added, “Although, I think I prefer 'Just Alfred.'”

When Alfred shrugged and pointed out that he couldn’t blame him for being cautious, Arthur had to admit that he had a point. He’d been in the Underground for so long, he supposed that he still had yet to grasp what humans believed was appropriate conversation, which were topics to avoid, and which were considered ‘safe.’ When he heard the unexpected compliment about being good company, he felt light heat fill his face briefly, his ears in particular burning. ”Oh—eh—thank you,” he responded, his skin darkening even further when he realised just how eloquent that came out, the bit of stammering and all. ”I haven’t had that much practise with how to be good company—l just assumed that I was rather poor at it. I was one of the 'problem mutants' at Weeds, not exactly a great track record,” he said, a half shrug and a half smile accompanying the shared thought.

And it was when Alfred seemed to jump at the opportunity to stay for dinner that they were able to move away from some of the heavier content within their conversation, of the loss of freedom, ruined lives, and missing love ones. Arthur’s eyes followed Alfred as he got down from the table, and of course, there was another rush of heat in his face when Alfred did another one of his teasing bows, both because Alfred was being a dork and because he also felt strangely flattered with the dorky attention. It’s not as if he’s used to attractive men teasing him, taking time out of their day to speak with him, and furthermore, agreeing to spend even more time with him for dinner. Arthur was too busy trying to compose himself while he followed Alfred to the door to respond.

“We can pretty much mess around,” he heard Alfred say as he opened the door for him. ”Wh-What?” Arthur stumbled in his words, the wrong idea immediately coming to mind, only because his train of thought was already at the cusp of inappropriate, as the darkening of his face worsened. Luckily, Alfred seemed to ramble on and Arthur allowed it while he tried to cool the rush of heat beneath his skin. Of course that’s not what he meant. And he calmed a bit while Alfred continued to talk about cooking and food. It was only when he started rambling about making burgers, the excitement clear in his tone, that Arthur could pay attention without highly inappropriate musings invading what he should be thinking about, such as how in the hell they were going to make this food.

Arthur smiled a bit at the beginner food comment, as if Alfred were making a grand introduction into something completely unexplored and new, which was technically true, but the idea was still amusing. “I’m willing to try anything… as long as you’ll show me how to make one,” he answered. ”There should be some liquor lying around as well, don’t you think? I mean, it’s in nearly every room as it is—I’m sure the kitchens will have an even more impressive stash.” That’s what he’d really been craving. The Underground only had standard vodka in their storerooms, of which Arthur was not supposed to have any knowledge of in the first place. ”Do you drink?” Arthur wondered if it was standard to put liquor into mixed meat—why not? His mind was starting to wander with what else could possibly be placed on top of burgers.

When they reached the stairs, Arthur was nearly ready to make his way down the stairs, but paused when Alfred paused, giving him a questioning glance. Alfred then poked him on the shoulder, giving that now trademark mischievous smile of his. “…Wanna try something new?...” was the gist of Alfred’s expression as well as his words, highly suggestive of trouble-making behaviour. Arthur paused, not really sure where to glance at or what Alfred was referring to. ”Sure… what did you have in mind?” Judging by Alfred’s words and the mischievous smile, it was likely something that most people didn’t approve of, raising Arthur’s curiosity and anticipation. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 868

Tags: Arthur

Notes: Late. /o/

It was easy to be comfortable with Arthur, a little too easy, as if they had been long time friends rather than sudden and unexpected acquaintances. When Alfred stuck out his tongue at the man, it was returned with a playful bump on the shoulder. Alfred laughed a little. It came so easily, just like how Arthur looked relaxed as he smiled.

"How American of you to point that out," Arthur said teasingly. Alfred rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but feel a small flare of pride. Even after everything that had happened, even though he hated his country for not standing up, for not realizing that things weren't right...well, Alfred still did believe it could be changed. "Why? Do you like it?"

"Mmm...s'pose it could be worse. Least you're not reciting Shakespeare to me."

"'Mr. Jones' makes you sound refined. Although, I think I prefer 'Just Alfred.'"

Arthur's grin irked Alfred a little and he huffed. "I'm still going for middle-aged teacher."

It was almost cute how Arthur could be so flustered by a simple comment, how surprised he was. A little sad, too, Alfred supposed, but he wasn't really thinking about that. The man stumbled over his words for the first time, and for some reason, it brought a smile to Alfred's face. So Arthur wasn't just full of airs. Like any other man, Arthur could screw up and falter and forget to put on that smart, British façade. It was rather satisfying, to be quite honest.

Alfred held the door open and waited for Arthur to just hurry up and catch up. His stomach was growling again, chastising him for not giving him any nourishment.

Arthur seemed a little out of it though. "Wh-What?" the blond stammered. Stumbling over his words twice in the span of a minute or two? Alfred cocked his head to the side and asked, "Hmm?" but the man didn't seem to hear him. Ah well. Probably just hadn't heard Alfred properly. Or maybe he was hungry as well.

...Burgers. Man, he was looking forward to those. He knew he had a slightly dreamy expression on his face...but there was no shame in that. Alfred would defend his love of burgers to the grave.

"I'm willing to try anything...as long as you’ll show me how to make one," Arthur said amicably.

Alfred clapped his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Aw, c'mon, d'you really think I'd leave you in the dark, Artie?" Alfred tacked the nickname on just for fun. Taking it out for a test run, really. "You'll be a pro by the time we're done."

"There should be some liquor lying around as well, don’t you think? I mean, it’s in nearly every room as it is—I’m sure the kitchens will have an even more impressive stash. Do you drink?"

Alfred scratched his head thoughtfully. "There's definitely a couple of wine cabinets down there I'm pretty sure. And there's most certainly cooking sherry or something of the sort lying around in the kitchen. I'm not fancy enough to actually use that, but it's definitely pretty normal to have around. So I'm sure we can find something decent. As for me...well, I'll take Coke or coffee over wine almost any day—don't look at me like that—but alcohol's pretty good as well. Can't drink it in the States so I might as well have my share here."

They had reached the staircase by now and Alfred's grin widened when Arthur agreed to whatever Alfred had planned. "Good, because it would've been dull if you said no and a sadly missed opportunity. Dunno if you've ever slid down stair banisters before? Even if you have, it's not that big of a deal. It's absolutely the best. Completely socially unacceptable as I've been told many times, but it's just between the two of us, so..." Alfred hopped to sit up on the railing. They were especially nice here, just wide enough where you could slide easily and comfortably while still being able to hold on.

"It's super easy and loads of fun," Alfred said. "Just position yourself on the edge where it starts to slope downwards and loosen your grip a little and—" Alfred's fingers eased off from under the bannister and gravity pulled him downwards. His cowlick flapped a little as the air rushed past him, the small combination of speed and adrenaline filling him. Alfred laughed again, a childish joy illuminating his face until he reached the end of the staircase and hopped off easily onto his feet.

It wasn't the most thrilling thing Alfred had ever done, but even so, Alfred found himself a little short of breath. He would take happiness where he got it, take pleasure in the smallest of things. It was like better days and easier times, of fonder childhood memories that were so easily overshadowed.

Alfred dusted his hands a little before looking up at Arthur who was still at the top of the staircase. Alfred grinned before cupping his hands around his mouth and calling upwards at the man. "C'mon, Arthur! It's fun! Just give it a go! I'll catch you at the bottom if you fall!"

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Arthur W. Kirkland]

tag;; Alfred
words;; 870
notes;; -u-

Hearing Alfred’s laugh was both a comfort and a relief. Arthur never thought of himself as someone who was particularly enjoyable to be around, even less someone that could make someone laugh. Or maybe Alfred was just easily amused. Whatever the reason, Arthur found that he wouldn’t mind drawing more of those sounds from Alfred in the future.

"Mmm... s'pose it could be worse. Least you're not reciting Shakespeare to me."

Arthur snorted softly at the absurd thought. ”Yes, because all Englishmen do that to every fetching stranger they meet. You should know that it’s only common courtesy,” the laugh was small and short lived, but it was still a laugh. Now his humour was making a playfully snarky turn, a little closer to who he really was whenever he was comfortable enough around someone.

Arthur very nearly flinched when Alfred clapped his hand on his shoulder, not used to people touching him unless it was to cause him pain. His muscles tightened, as if to coil back and his pulse heightened, this time unpleasantly. He glanced at Alfred anxiously as soon as he was able to catch himself, hoping that Alfred didn’t see the sudden flash of apprehension in his glance, like a cornered animal ready to pull up his defenses if need be. Through it all; however, was the flash of curiosity when he heard Alfred call him ‘Artie’ and he was able to come back to the present moment with that as his temporary lifeline. ”Arthur,” he corrected him, though not too harshly, giving him a slight, teasing nudge in the side for good measure.

Arthur laughed quietly when Alfred mentioned the wine cabinets and the cooking sherry, though wouldn’t cook with it. ”Oh yes, we’ll just need it strictly for drinking.” And it was right before Arthur could give Alfred a certain look over the coffee and coke preference over wine that Alfred told him not to give him 'that look.' Arthur bit at the inside of his lip instead, trying not to smile. Apparently Alfred already knew him enough to catch the expression before it even happened. ”In that case, we’ll have to get you all properly liquored up to make up for not being able to drink back at home,” Arthur replied, a devious lilt to his voice, although the way his eyes trailed over toward the man, it suggested only more teasing. ”The tea here is also pretty good. If you ever form a contract with a mutant, just supply them with an obscene amount of tea and liquor and I’m sure they’ll all be clamouring to get you to slip them from their cages.” He offered Alfred a small smile.

Soon enough, when they reached the stairwell, did Alfred explain the mystery behind what he wanted to do. Normally, the idea of sliding down the bannister was pretty appalling to Arthur, but the moment that Alfred mentioned it being ‘socially unacceptable’, he rapidly changed his mind about how appalling it really was. Socially unacceptable was relative; slavery was socially acceptable, sliding down the bannister was not. Fuck socially unacceptable. ”Show me,” Arthur answered, and as confident as his answer sounded, he glanced somewhat anxiously down the long stairwell. I’m going to regret this. I’m going to regret this. This is just the two of us. No one else needs to know. Yes, that’s it. No one else needs to know.

He watched Alfred demonstrate, and seeing his smile, laughter, and the almost childish glee that seemed to lift his expression, Arthur’s own softened. He wondered what sort of childhood Alfred had lived—had he always been able to laugh like that? Could he ever laugh like that? Arthur doubted that was possible. If he hadn’t managed that as a child, how could he now? Still, the image of it in Alfred was envious, and Arthur wished in some small way, that he could bottle up some of that carefree happiness and keep it for himself whenever he was forced back into his cell.

"C'mon, Arthur! It's fun! Just give it a go! I'll catch you at the bottom if you fall!"

Thoughts were broken when Alfred called out to him from below, his voice echoing just slightly in the grandness of the room. He felt his face explode with warmth now that he was faced with the prospect of actually doing this. And Alfred added yet another thing that he hadn’t even thought of—what if he did fall? ”Well, you better,” Arthur called out back. ”This remains between us—swear it!”

Arthur positioned himself at the top like Alfred had, internally chastising himself for doing something that he’d never done before, not even at Weeds when the teachers weren’t looking. He had never allowed himself to be a kid, so he didn’t quite know how... Arthur leaned forward slightly, feeling the gravity pull at his body just before he released his grip on the banister. The wind rushing past his face and all along his body was exhilarating in its own way and his teeth dug hard into the inside of his lip, and the corners of his mouth curled up just before it ended. His hands attempted to grasp at the edge to slow his descent, but it did nothing to stop him from toppling rather gracelessly from the end of the banister.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 872

Tags: Arthur

Notes:

Arthur laughed at Alfred's stereotypes on the British, but it was a goodnatured laugh. Alfred joined in as well to laugh at himself, shrugging as he did so. Alfred was well aware he tended to stereotype people. He'd like to think that once he got to know people better, those stereotypes faded...but hey. The English were big on their tea and Shakespeare.

If Alfred had been paying more attention, he would've noticed Arthur's strange reaction to being clapped on the shoulder, but his mind was whirling away with other thoughts. Mainly food. Mainly burgers. He'd relaxed a lot since first meeting Arthur. Whether that was a good thing or not, Alfred still wasn't sure, but Arthur certainly seemed like a good guy. He hadn't done anything to lead Alfred to believe otherwise, that was for sure.

There was Arthur's laugh again when they were talking about the wine cabinets. Quieter, but still there. Alfred grinned as he stuck his hands in his pockets while they walked. It was a good thing he wasn't expected to make anything fancy, because Alfred would probably fail at that. Plus, he never really saw the need to fancy things up unless he had to do so for a con or something.

"In that case," Arthur remarked when Alfred mentioned the drinking laws back in the States, "we’ll have to get you all properly liquored up to make up for not being able to drink back at home."

"Sounds good to me!" Alfred said easily. "Just have to be decently sober enough to get out of here and find my way back to the apartment afterwards." He glanced at his watch—ah, he still had some time. It wasn't like Alfred had many commitments or places he needed to be. No meetings either. "Yeah, there's plenty of time to drink a bit."

Alfred laughed out loud when Arthur started talking about tea and mutants. "Of course you like tea, jeez. I'm pretty sure you do recite Shakespeare to people—you probably have Romeo and Juliet memorized, don't you?"

Alfred thought about the second part of what Arthur had said in more depth though. "I'm not a big fan of contracts...they make it sound so nice, almost like a work contract...but it's really not." His tone was quiet, more serious...not that Alfred really thought they had any chance of being overheard. "Maybe just so things could be better, but it'd be temporary and it's just playing into the system, isn't it?" Alfred bit his lip as he thought of it. "I dunno. There's no good way around these things."

But ah, that was much too serious of a topic considering everything they were talking about and Alfred didn't particularly want to think of it since it brought to mind other sensitive matters and they were reaching the staircase anyways so it was time to move on to better things.

Like sliding down stair bannisters, which definitely ended way too quickly for Alfred's taste. There was never a long enough stair bannister, never. It was amazing how easily it came back to Alfred and it was probably something Arthur had never had the chance to do and really, that was a shame. Almost as terrible as never having tasted a burger in his life.

Alfred grinned as Arthur positioned himself at the top of the staircase. At first, Alfred had half thought that the man would refuse, probably say it was 'uncouth' and 'uncivilized', but Alfred was pleasantly surprised that did not happen.

"This remains between us—swear it!"

"I swear!" Alfred yelled upwards, grinning and standing at the bottom just where Arthur should fall to if he did fall. "You'll be 100% okay!"

And then, just like that, Arthur was sliding down the bannister. There was obviously a degree of fear at first—Alfred could see it in Arthur's eyes. But as the man picked up speed, Alfred could almost see it change, his mouth twitching upward in something reminiscent of a smile, eyes shining. A sense of accomplishment welled up in Alfred.

Arthur was coming down fast...too fast though and Alfred could see the realization dawning in Arthur's eyes as he attempted to slow himself down. Shit. Alfred forgot to tell Arthur to jump down when he reached the bottom and it was clear that Arthur wasn't certain what to do.

"Just jum—" Alfred began but Arthur had already reached the end of the bannister. Alfred leaped a little further forward and bent down to catch the blond before he crashed into the carpet. He just narrowly managed it, one arm under Arthur's legs and the other under his back.

Alfred laughed a little. "Well, I kept my promise, didn't I?" He straightened, still carrying Arthur bridal style, before easily letting the man down onto his feet.

Man, Arthur was light. Unusually so...Alfred uncomfortably thought of why that might be. Even though he definitely looked healthier than a lot of the mutants in the Underground, clearly he had yet to spend enough time outside the cells to fully regain proper weight.

"So!" Alfred said cheerfully. "Now that we've done our share of screwing around, how about we go get those burgers?"

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Arthur W. Kirkland]

tag;; Alfred
words;; 1120
notes;; c;

Everything about this meeting was surreal, meeting and speaking with a stranger as if he were simply on a social call. There was a small bit of pleasure seeing Alfred laugh and smile in response to his words. He had very little experience with such things, at least not outside the confines of Weeds or the severe, concrete walled restrictions of the Underground. Most of Arthur's social interactions were limited to other mutants, struggling under the same burden of their label or with humans who felt more like the necessities of business transactions. A part of him was surprised with how easy this was, with how seemless it felt simply being with someone different, on the outside. Even so, Arthur was vigilant in a way that mutants tended to be, expecting this comfortable, pleasant ruse to crumble at any moment. He noticed Alfred check his watch, and he was suddenly reminded of the possible shortness of their time together. Alfred hadn’t come here to spend time with someone else’s contracted mutant, he likely had other things to do with his day, or so Arthur figured.

All of this went against Arthur’s training in Weeds, with how mutants were supposed to service humans, attend to their every whim. He was greedily taking Alfred’s time, he was speaking to him as if they were on the same level, and he was proposing things to do, such as drink and make use of another human’s kitchen. He was breaking the rules—and he felt little guilt in admitting that he loved it. Going against the tide of what was considered ‘normal’ was a small thrill; it set his heart racing, his eyes became a little brighter than the dull, glazed expression he wore when confined in a cage, literally and figuratively.

Alfred was a breath of fresh air in this moment. Arthur had forgotten what fresh air tasted like after years in confinement. And now he was positively desirous for more.

With a small smile still perched on his lips, Arthur rolled his eyes at Alfred’s teasing regarding his love for tea. ”Don’t most people?” he teased back. Most people he knew at Weeds drank it whenever it was given to them, usually a weak version of it. Though part of the reason for that could be they’d consume anything that was given to them. He scoffed a little, though there was no ill-intent behind it, when Alfred suggested that he recited Shakespeare to people. ”Oh, now that’s ridiculous—I only know some lines, and I wouldn’t recite them unless I wanted to be ridiculous.” The hint of playfulness was still laced in his voice beneath the dulled sarcasm. He enjoyed dry banter, and of course, he only resorted to it when he was with someone that he liked, someone that he believed was worth bantering with.

Arthur’s eyes softened somewhat when Alfred expressed his own dislike over the contracts and how superficial the relief was for the mutants who managed to ‘win’ one. ”I couldn’t agree more,” Arthur answered, his own tone lowered in similar fashion, almost with the same unconscious caution of being overheard. These ideas were just as dangerous for mutants to voice as they were for any humans sympathetic to the movement to challenge the system. Even so, there was a hint of anxiousness in the way that his eyes grazed over Alfred, conditioned into fear over anything that challenged said ideas, even though he’d been rather blatant and loud in his disagreement with them in the past. ”Maybe that’s easier for me to say on the other side of the system,” he muttered, briefly pressing his lips together and wetting them when he felt the sudden dryness of his mouth. Fear always tasted so acrid.

Arthur only answered Alfred’s assurance from the bottom of the stairwell with an unimpressed frown. ”If you say so,” he mumbled to himself, the dryness evident. Though the little taste of childishness and rule-breaking was worth it, he would never admit out loud, but it was difficult to deny to himself. And he was pleasantly and embarrassingly surprised when he felt himself crash into the warmth and firmness of Alfred instead of the carpeted floor. His face erupted into bright colour, his heart was racing (strictly from the near fall, yes, he concluded...), and his limps flailed just a little with the sensation of falling into something without a steady grip. His fingers curled tightly against the back of Alfred’s shirt while his other gripped Alfred’s shoulder with white knuckles. His breath was shallow and the heat in his face only worsened when he heard Alfred laugh and pick him up bridal style as if he weighed very little. ”Barely,” Arthur retorted, not willing to admit that Alfred followed through quite fluidly on his promise. He muttered something about how he was ”—bloody lucky no one saw that.” When Alfred let him down, he straightened the hem of his shirt without thought, grasping onto whatever dignity he could manage after such a display. The colour had only faded a little from his expression.

And of course, Alfred had to make it worse by inverting another unintentional innuendo. Screwing around, indeed. Although the moment he said it, Arthur did unintentionally imagine what a quick tryst would be like right there on the stairwell, the sharp edges of the stairs digging painfully into his back against the pressure... Either Alfred was particularly good at being blissfully unaware of it, or Arthur just had a truly twisted mind for finding them. ”Ah—“ was Arthur’s graceless reply, dragging himself out of his own less-than-innocent thoughts, his face still warm and his gaze a little distracted. ”Yes, let’s start before we get in trouble for it… not that I particularly mind getting into trouble,” he finally said with a little more clarity, leading the way towards the large kitchen. Granted, Arthur knew very little of how to operate a kitchen. It wasn’t exactly a priority in Weeds education.

The first thing that Arthur went for was to the liquor cabinet; he knew it quite well, as it was the first thing he spotted after being introduced to the home by his current contract holder. Arthur had a penchant for finding alcohol. It was a useful talent.

Arthur pulled out one of the dark bottles of wine, one with heady alcohol content. He was already yearning for the heavy, rich taste, especially after that embarrassing incident at the bottom of the stairwell. That was for Alfred’s eyes only, and he had no intention of ever sharing that story with anyone else. His hand next went next for the drawer that hid the bottle opener, already working the top open while his hip subtly closed the drawer. ”Care for a drink before we get started?” Arthur asked, eyes glancing over at his companion, that same desire for misconduct and the somewhat euphoric recall of the subtle thrill of wrong-doing already alight in his gaze.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1021

Tags: Arthur

Notes:

Talking with Arthur almost felt like talking with one of the Freedom Fighters, except...well, there was a difference that Alfred couldn't quite put a finger on. There was certainly that same sense of unity over a taboo issue. But there was something else to it as well.

Perhaps it was the fact that Alfred had purposefully conditioned himself to think of the Freedom Fighters as acquaintances. They were people working towards the same cause. Not quite friends, which Alfred had also purposefully steered clear of. He loved the Freedom Fighters, really. But so many of the Freedom Fighters were terrified of action. There weren't enough young people, weren't enough people who didn't have that much to lose. Oh, there was talk of revolution, of fighting back. But things weren't so simple and there were not enough people who were brave enough to stand up and fight.

Arthur reminded Alfred of the Freedom Fighters in the sense that they spoke of mutants with the same ideas, the same principles. Yet...Alfred had a feeling that Arthur, perhaps because he was a mutant and had so little to lose, perhaps simply because that was the way Arthur was, would be much more willing to take action. Perhaps that was the appeal of talking to Arthur, the slight hint of rebellion in their words, the feeling that perhaps they could do more. Alfred briefly wondered how old Arthur was. He assumed that Arthur was older than him (most people were—he was only 20 after all), but it couldn't have been by too much. If there were more people like Arthur in the FF, more people willing to take a chance...

Then again, he was asking people to risk their lives. It wasn't exactly an easy choice. Alfred had no choice, no real one anyways. This was his life and he could not back out of it now. Not without feeling overwhelmed with guilt at least.

Simultaneously, it was also easy to talk to Arthur about other things. Perhaps that was the difference. With the FF, Alfred felt confined to talking about mutant slavery and only that. But with Arthur, well, they were talking about Shakespeare and tea, two subjects that Alfred certainly would never bring up at an FF meeting...

"Well, I suppose if you like iced tea—" Alfred smirked a little. Oh, he was certain that was going to infuriate Arthur. He could almost hear that English accent protesting that iced tea was not tea at all. “And...just a few lines?” Alfred clucked his tongue. "Even I know a few lines." To prove this, Alfred cleared his throat and, staring up at the ceiling and casting his hand upwards as if reaching towards the sky, he recited in a feminine, lovey dovey voice, "Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou?"

He glanced over at Arthur and wiggled his eyebrows at the man.

Then there was that shift in tone and topic. It felt natural, switching back and forth so easily. Alfred was almost fascinated by it, how easy it was to go from Shakespeare to mutant contracts.

Alfred could feel the hint of anxiety in Arthur as they spoke. Of course, Arthur did not know that they were safe, that they could speak freely, and even if he did he might hesitate. It was how he had been brought up after all. To think one way. Alfred thought of Hitler, of Stalin. How effective, to teach the youth obedience from the very beginning. Not just for mutants either...humans as well. All brainwashed. Alfred had been once as well.

"No." Alfred shook his head. "I don't know if I'd say it's much easier. Well...perhaps it is easier to believe that it is wrong. Much more logical when you experience it I suppose...but your punishment is more severe. At least the government has to think before taking action on this side."

For someone who seemed to be so much of a fighter, it was unbelievably amusing to see Arthur so worked up about sliding down a stair bannister. Also unbelievably amusing to see him fumble so much and to feel how tightly he gripped onto Alfred's shirt. Alfred laughed again when Arthur claimed he had only barely caught him. Trying to protect his pride...it was almost cute. Though, Alfred was somehow certain despite only just meeting the man that Arthur would vehemently protest Alfred's use of that word. Ah well.

Alfred glanced over at Arthur, who was red from embarrassment, taking a moment to compose himself and answer Alfred coherently. Alfred grinned as the man stubbornly led the way into the kitchen, trying to regain his dignity. It actually seemed rather fitting of what Alfred thought of the British. So concerned about pride...not that Alfred wasn't, but it seemed like the English liked to uphold a certain image of themselves and to this, Arthur did not seem to be an exception.

Arthur seemed quite at home already, finding the alcohol with an ease that betrayed at least several ventures into it already. Alfred, on the other hand, was much more concerned with the contents of the fridge. He had promised burgers after all, and on that he planned to deliver. He examined the many shelves until he finally found what he was looking for. Ground meat, perfect. There weren't any burger buns but they could make do with whatever bread that was lying around. It would be a pity if there wasn't any ketchup though...

Arthur's voice interrupted Alfred's thoughts and the blonde glanced up to see Arthur holding a bottle of wine. Alfred wasn't educated enough on wine to know exactly what they were drinking, but a glass could never hurt. So long as he was sober enough to find his way home, Alfred was fine. No harm in doing so and Arthur probably would appreciate a drink. "Sure, why not?" Alfred replied easily. He took out the ground meat and opened one of the cabinets, pulling out two glasses and setting them out for Arthur. "You pour and I'll set things up so we can cook."

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Arthur W. Kirkland]

tag;; Alfred
words;; 913
notes;; c;

Had he known more about the organisation, Arthur may have wanted to join, though it would be a question of if he were a good match for it. He was a fighter, and a dirty one at that if he deemed it necessary, and if the members of the Freedom Fighters were more a group of pacifists, then Arthur may have gone rouge a few times. Part of the reason would be his own status as one of the misfortunate in society due to his genetics, the other would’ve been that it had been so ingrained in his nature from birth. Arthur was simply a fighter, a rebel against the broken structure. Even as a human, he’d like to think that he would find ways to combat the government. Aside from the attractiveness of such sentiments, Arthur found that he was greatly enjoying this company on a human level. And yes, he still considered himself very much human despite what the government told him. He just had some slight genetic differences, but that didn’t make him any less human.

”Iced tea?” he questioned; he’d heard about that being popular in the States, though he’d never tried it, never had the exposure, and seeing the smirk over Alfred’s expression he had the impression that he was purposefully being a smart arse about it. ”Why on earth would you serve tea iced? That sounds absolutely atrocious.” An insult to tea. Although he’d insulted iced tea, Arthur wouldn’t mind trying it just for the sake of trying it. The few times he’d had tea, he greatly enjoyed it. Trying and experiencing more things felt like its own brand of rebellion, that he could experience just as many things that humans could.

Arthur snorted softly at Alfred’s recitation of one of the most common lines in Shakespeare, another topic that he wished he knew more of beyond the few old books he’d managed to get his hands on during his academy days when he was just a child. ”Yes, yes Juliet, you know a few, then.” He smiled a little at that, though his expression became drawn after a bit. He didn’t like that creeping sadness that seemed to hound his steps, every little thought, but it was further motivation for him to eventually find a way out of this. ”They don’t allow us books in the Underground,” he remarked quietly, a little sadly.

And hearing Alfred’s response following his remark of it being easier for mutants to find reason to fit into that rebellious mindset, he had to agree. ”No, you’re right… Now that I think about it, it’s far more common to find mutants who are more complacent with their situation. They simply accept it and lower themselves even further at times, trying to find what little comfort they can in their station. Even if it means demeaning themselves.” Arthur took a breath, a bit of a sigh, but also a sound of resignation. ”I don’t really fit among most of them either, due to the way I view things. I don’t fit in either world. Having such a disposition does get lonely at times, I’ll admit.”

Finding the alcohol, of course, was one of the first challenges that Arthur famliarised himself with once he’d been bought out on contract to someone who seemed so understanding toward his situation, allowing him that freedom to move about as he pleased. Arthur supposed he should be grateful, but he was very much aware of the fact that he was still on a leash. While working open the bottle of the wine, his eyes followed Alfred as he moved throughout the kitchen to find items to make this dish. Arthur’s spirit immediately lifted just a tad when Alfred agreed to drinking a glass with him. He’d never had a drinking buddy before. This day was just filled with all sorts of firsts.

As soon as Arthur successfully opened the bottle, another skill that he made sure to teach himself as soon as he discovered said alcohol within his contract holder’s home, he took a quick drink straight from the bottle. It was a red, so it tasted a little warmer and more inviting to his body than the other varieties. He wasn’t educated either on the varieties of wine, even his confinement, but if it was alcohol, that was good enough for him.

Arthur made a sound of quiet contentment with the warming of his veins from the taste while he reached for the wine glasses that Alfred had set out, even though he would’ve been perfectly content with passing the bottle between him and Alfred until it was emptied. Arthur poured a very generous amount between the two and set it on the counter between them. The blond had already held the rim of the glass up to his lips, taking another long sip as if the wine were water and he were dehydrated.

His entire body felt content, the alcohol forcing him to relax in that moment as his eyes followed Alfred throughout the kitchen. Of their own accord, the corners of Arthur’s mouth tightened, curving just a tad. It was difficult to ever admit to feeling happy, because he was worried that feeling would just as quickly taken away from him, and so he jealously hoarded that feeling to himself. Who knew that having some company could have that simple effect? ”May I help with anything? I can cut vegetables or bread if you’d like?”

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 897

Tags: Arthur

Notes: Only took forever. Hope it's okay!

Alfred liked kitchens. Not because he could necessarily cook in them (Alfred knew perfectly well that he wasn't an outstanding chef), but because there was food. He busied himself pulling the ground meat and vegetables out. Tomato, lettuce, cheese, onion... Alfred licked his lips as he set them out on the counter. Alfred didn't think he could ever grow sick of burgers. He'd been eating them as long as he could remember, and Alfred had no intention of stopping. Who was he to deny himself the simple pleasures in life?

"Hey, don't diss iced tea if you haven't tried it! It's a wonderful drink...and you'd serve it iced because cold drinks are always better." Alfred nodded to himself. As much as Alfred hated the cold, he did so love cold drinks. One of the Chinese exchange students at his school back in the U.S. had always insisted on drinking her Coke at room temperature. Why, Alfred couldn't imagine. Cold drinks just tasted so much better. He wasn't entirely sure why, but Alfred didn't care enough to question it.

Alfred grinned at Arthur's reaction to his Shakespeare. That was one of the few lines of Shakespeare that Alfred did know (other than “to be or not to be”), but hey, Shakespeare had never become of more use than this in his adult life. No one in Russia particularly cared about Shakespeare. They were much more interested in Alfred's ability to hack or steal. Really, Alfred mused, Shakespeare had been relatively useless up until now. He supposed that theoretically it might come into use during his cons, but he was much more likely to meet someone who liked to talk about football or who Johnny had slept with last night.

His smile faltered a little when Arthur brought up the Underground. Alfred wished he had something to say. Something comforting perhaps. He was sure Matthew could have thought of something. Matthew was always better at this, at advice, at not talking too much.

Luckily, before Alfred could say something that probably wouldn't help the conversation at all, the topic turned to something that Alfred was much better versed in.

"Hey," Alfred gave Arthur a small smile. "Not fitting in doesn't have to be a bad thing. No one got anywhere by fitting in. Least that's what I like to tell myself." Alfred shrugged. "I mean...no one in the Underground is happy. They've just accepted things. But if we could break down that acceptance and tap into that dissatisfaction, if we could use that to some kind of advantage, to change things..." Alfred paused and laughed. "Or maybe that's too much to ask. Maybe that's too much to expect right now."

Still, Alfred mused to himself, Arthur could become a valuable asset to the Freedom Fighters if he was willing. And it seemed like he might be, like Arthur was the sort of man that the Freedom Fighters could use. It wasn't necessarily something Alfred wanted to ask him. He wasn't desperate, not yet, and this was not something you asked someone when you first met them.

Of course, Alfred might never meet Arthur again. Given Arthur's position and the nature of the Underground, it was all too possible that they might never see each other again. Alfred certainly hoped that wouldn't be the case, but it was not something he would put much faith into.

Alfred hummed a little as he started to make the proper preparations. He pulled out some brioche in substitution for burger buns. Not quite a truly American burger, but the bread would hopefully taste good anyways. Toasted on the grill...Alfred licked his lips, already anticipating the surely delicious meal ahead of them.

"Oh, definitely!" Alfred grinned at Arthur's request. The least he could do while he was here with Arthur was give him the freedoms that he couldn't experience. "You can cut the tomatoes...wash your hands at that sink over there, will ya? And rinse this tomato off." Alfred pressed it into Arthur's hand with a smile.

Alfred pulled out a cutting board and set a knife on the countertop, busying himself with shaping the burger patties until it seemed like Arthur was ready. "You ever used a knife before?" Alfred asked. "It's not that difficult, you just want to be careful not to cut yourself. S'why you should actually use a sharp knife...kinda counterintuitive, but with a sharp knife you use less force and you're actually less likely to cut yourself..."

Wow, Alfred was sounding a little too much like a responsible adult. A little like his mother, actually. Imagine that. The thought made him a little more subdued, but he pushed it away as he held the knife and demonstrated for Arthur, taking the tomato and slicing it carefully. "You're right-handed, right? You should curl the fingers on your left hand inwards. That way the knife is much more likely to hit your nails than actual flesh. For burgers, we don't have to be too precise since we're just putting it on top of the actual patty, though you still don't want it too thick. Here, you try."

Alfred turned the knife's handle towards Arthur and returned to his patties, though still keeping an eye on Arthur just in case. He desperately hoped that Arthur wouldn't cut himself. That would be a mess that Alfred was not particularly keen on dealing with.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia