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Oct. 13th, 2009 09:24 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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hetaliasunshineTITLE: Some Things Are Better Than McDonald's
AUTHOR/ARTIST:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mossnotfungus
RECIPIENT:tsumetaitsubasa
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: US/UK
RATING: ...PG-13?
SUMMARY: Arthur's self esteem problems come into play when he realizes just how damn good McDonald's is.
Arthur stared at the phone; how many hours had he been doing this? He looked at his window and saw that the busy life of his neighborhood had hushed as the sun had sunk. It was finally dusk, and Arthur sighed, disappointment heaving through his body and making him sink into his seat. Another day without a call; how long did Alfred intend to ignore him?
Honestly, Arthur wasn’t sure what he had done this time. Usually it was ridiculous things that hurt Alfred’s feelings and caused him to retract back to his neutralism and ignore Arthur for months. Last time, it had been a weight comment; the time before, a well placed insult about his old boss. And honestly, Arthur had found it all rather irritating, and the ends he had to run to in order to gain Alfred’s forgiveness were both embarrassing and extreme. But it always proved, to both himself and Alfred, that he loved him more than anything in the world, even his dignity and pride.
But this time was different; Arthur couldn’t remember for the sake of him what on earth he had done to Alfred. They had been on such good terms lately; well, actually, they had been on wonderful terms, if his night at Alfred’s had proven anything. Arthur quirked a small smile and remembered just all the things that had happened, and sighed forlornly at the memories of his boy’s clever hands. Arthur had finally taken that step, and thrown off all his inhibitions and fears when it came to Alfred, and confessed every single feeling he had built up. The result had been instantaneous; a kiss and a long, unforgettable night in Alfred’s bedroom. The next morning, Alfred had made them homemade waffles and eggs, and even had the courtesy to go out and buy some Earl Grey tea while Arthur was still asleep. Arthur had never felt so in love in his life, never so much happiness he did than that moment Alfred took his hands and pressed a soft good morning kiss to his lips. They were finally together, after years of distance and fighting and hurt.
If Alfred meant every word he said- and Arthur still had a gut wrenching fear that the boy didn’t realize just what he meant- why hadn’t he called him afterwards? Surely, it wasn’t customary in American culture to have an amazing night of sex and just leave it at that? (But if what Matthew had told him, than it was. Arthur shook his head to get his son’s doubts out of his head). Arthur couldn’t remember if he had done something wrong when he woke up and kissed Alfred back with all he had. Did he do something wrong, when he ate every bit of Alfred’s cooking, when he stammered and blushed when he realized the boy thought beyond himself to go and bother to get tea for him? Arthur didn’t think so, but if the three weeks without a single call had any indication, he must have screwed something up.
Arthur gave one last look at the phone; it was still probably noon over where Alfred was. He could make a call, couldn’t he? He has work though, Arthur reminded himself, he’s too busy to talk to you. So, dejected and despairing, Arthur got up from his chair in the sitting room, and went to go fix himself some tea before he called it a night.
Arthur didn’t get very far, though; one of his Jane Austen books was heaved at his head, rather forcefully. “Bloody hell!” he yelled, and fell back to his chair, a new bruise on his head. He looked around for the culprit, and noticed a faint glow coming from around the corner. The fairies were up to trouble, again.
“What do you want?” he snapped, “you don’t have to throw Sense and Sensibility to get my attention.”
Muffled murmurs came from around the corner, but none of them answered him. He decided to leave them be and move to the kitchen. Luckily, he dodged Hamlet when it came hurdling towards him.
“Bloody hell!” he cursed. Finally, the fairies appeared, all glaring at him in unison. He gulped and took a step back.
“Call him,” one of them hissed.
“Now.” Another added menacingly. Arthur bit his lip; he rarely saw the murderous side of his sprites, but when he did, it was quite frightening.
“A-all right,” he stammered, “just don’t throw anymore classics.”
“Dicken’s is next,” they threatened.
Arthur made a mad dash for his phone and dialed Alfred’s number. He watched the fairies disappear around the corner again, back to where his extensive library was. He gulped and prayed that Alfred would pick up.
“’Sup?” Arthur nearly screamed for joy.
“Alfred! Thank God! I need to talk to you! The fairies are attacking me with Shakespeare and Austen! They wanted me to talk to you!”
The other side of the line was silent.
“Arthur, are you ok?” Alfred asked, sounding truly worried.
“Of course I am! But I won’t be if the fairies get their way!” Arthur yelped. He thought he could hear their evil laughter from his library.
“Arthur, we’ve already gone over this; there’s no such thing as fairies.”
“Yes we have already gone over it. I already told you that you’re not pure enough to see them,” Arthur huffed. A book whirled by his head, hitting his wall with a loud bang.
“The hell?” he yelled at them. He picked the book up; A Tale of Two Cities. “Are you trying to kill me??”
“Ask him to lunch,” they hissed, all too menacingly, “or else.”
“Alfred! The fairies want me to take you to lunch tomorrow!” Arthur wailed. He could hear Alfred sigh in annoyance, but his tone was pretty happy.
“Sure, old man, where are we going?”
“Wherever you want! I’ll get on a plain right now. Where are you?” Arthur asked. He moved to get his keys and the fickle fairies, suddenly much more calm and pleasant, helped him get his jacket on.
“I’m in New York, of course. Come over around noon! I’ll surprise you! See yah Iggy!” Alfred said before hanging up. Arthur sighed with relief; at least now he’d be able to talk things through with Alfred.
Before he opened the door to make his way to the airport, he turned around to see the fairies gathered, waiving him off. He glared at them and spoke in his sugar sweet, syrup voice, “the place better be spiffed, and those books back in place, or I’m adopting a troll from Norway.”
Their venomous protests were goodbye enough.
Xxxxx
Arthur watched in mild fascination as Alfred shoved the massive hamburger into his mouth. It was a little mesmerizing; the monstrosity had three patties, three slices of cheese, a handful of lettuce, three onions, and a plump, juicy slice of tomato wedged in. Everything in between the two buns was doused in a special sauce that looked quite questionable to Arthur, yet Alfred managed to keep it off him. In one hand he had the heart-attack-on-buns, and in the other, the New York Times. He was so engulfed in the news he was reading and his food that he didn’t even bother with Arthur. Needless to say, it hurt Arthur, if only a little, and the Britton tried to regain the young country’s attention.
He cleared his throat in hopes that it would break Alfred’s concentration; nothing.
He tapped his fingers against the table of the small booth they were sharing; nothing.
Thoroughly pissed, he crossed his arms and glared daggers into the American’s forehead. The boy had the nerve to take a sip of his Coke.
“Bloody hell, Alfred!” Arthur yelled, slamming his fists on the table. Alfred yelped and dropped the newspaper. “I didn’t come here to watch you stuff greasy fast food in your mouth!!”
Alfred blinked for a moments, expression blank, and then narrowed his eyes at Arthur.
“McDonalds isn’t that greasy,” he muttered.
“Sure, Alfred, and France isn’t a pervert.”
They glared at each other momentarily; Alfred broke the silence first by shrugging and setting his burger down.
“So, if you didn’t take me here to watch me eat, why are we here?” Alfred asked, eyebrows quirked in challenge. Arthur gulped and looked down at the table. That was the trick, wasn’t it? Arthur didn’t really want to tell Alfred just how much he’d been missing hi m those last few weeks; it was obvious that Alfred hadn’t missed him. But that’s why he was there, really; he had missed Alfred’s booming voice and honey hair. He missed looking into those blue, blue eyes and loosing track of himself for a moment. And he missed hugging the man, holding his hand, waking up to his smile. Arthur couldn’t- wouldn’t- admit it though, and he swallowed back his feelings and went with something close to the truth, but not quite there.
“I was curious what you’ve been up to lately,” he said, dodging around the truth as much as possible. Alfred frowned for a moment, staring at Arthur with something that looked like aggravation and a bit of sadness.
“I’ve been insanely busy, lately. My boss is really working me; I’m still trying to work out this national debt thing and that whole mess, and then there’s health care. I don’t know what to do! Part of me wants it, bad, and is totally sick of Matthew’s comments of ‘My health care’s better than yours, ha ha”, but then the other part is really afraid of it, scared of giving the man too much power. Driving me crazy, you know?” Alfred finished with a weak smile. Arthur was quiet for a moment, letting that sink in; he had been busy. He wasn’t avoiding him, right? He waited for the relief to come, to lift the worry off of his chest, but it never came.
“That sounds…difficult.”
Arthur’s lame comment hung in the air, and the two blondes stared at each other. It was tense, and Arthur almost considered leaving it there, and going back home. But he didn’t want to leave without talking to Alfred about his trouble, not yet.
“Alfred,” Arthur murmured, reaching out for his hand, “you need to reach out to others for help. I’m here, so just cal-
He never finished the sentence full of emotion that, for once, Arthur was willing to share and expose; Alfred’s phone went off that moment. He jumped and answered it after the first two bars of ‘Sexy Back’, murmuring low into the speaking.
Arthur sighed and sunk back into his seat. Was he just cock blocked by a phone, or was Fate just trying to keep him lonely for eternity?
“Shit!” Alfred yelled, gaining a few glares from mothers nearby, “I totally forgot! They’re sending documents over to my apartment today! Crap! I have to go!” He bolted up from his seat, grabbing his jacket and turning.
“So should I just go home then?” Arthur asked in masked misery. Alfred turned around, face surprised.
“’Course not! My apartment’s like five minutes away. Stay here and watch my burger, kay? Don’t let anyone eat it!” And without a second word, he bolted out the door, leaving a dejected Englishman sitting by himself with a half eaten meal.
Arthur watched the man’s figure fade away into the crowds of New York, and then dropped his eyes to the table. There’s really no way I’ll get through to Alfred, he thought in dejection. The wheels of self doubt and dismay started to turn and work in his head. He doesn’t love me, not really. He didn’t bother to call me; he barely even talked to me during lunch. Arthur glared at the hamburger sitting before him. He probably loves that burger more than he loves me.
What did cheese burgers have that he didn’t? A cheese burger couldn’t love you! A cheeseburger couldn’t help you and care for you! So why did Alfred love them so bloody much? Arthur considered what it had that he didn’t; flavor, diversity, and dependency. Oh Lord, he thought, am I really comparing myself to a cheeseburger?
But Arthur couldn’t forget the way Alfred would moan, in plain wanton pleasure, whenever he’d take a bite of the cheeseburger. Surely he hadn’t heard that sound from Alfred in the middle of their love. Arthur wondered if the hamburgers Alfred would swallow down were that good. So he did what he never though he would; he picked up the cheeseburger, half cold and soggy from the sauce, and stared at it. Slowly, and very cautiously, he took a small bite. The grilled meat and cheese were a wonderful combination, and the crisp lettuce and onions just added to the kick of the whole flavor. He gasped and sighed at just how damn good it was; then the realization hit him.
“He’ll never love me as much as he loves you,” Arthur muttered. He set the cheeseburger down and rested his face in his hands. All he wanted to do was cry, now. A bloody cheeseburger was better than him; he had never felt so hopeless before in his life.
“Uh, Arthur, what was that you just said to my cheeseburger?” Alfred’s incredulous voice asked. Arthur’s eyes shot open in horror and he looked up to see that Alfred was standing before him, folder of documents in hand, with a truly surprised expression. Arthur stammered and tried to tell him off.
“I did not talk to your cheeseburger!” he yelped.
Alfred’s eyebrows furrowed. “Uhm, yes you did. And did you just say that I wouldn’t love you as much as a cheeseburger?” He looked truly angry at this, and Arthur swallowed back his fear.
“No! Of course not!” Arthur yelled. Alfred shook his head and sat down back at the bench. He shoved the meal aside and took Arthur’s hands into his hands.
“Why would you think I would love a cheeseburger more than you?” he asked. The honest sincerity in his eyes made Arthur’s burn a little, and he briefly wondered if it was the onions making him tear up. He bit his tongue, refusing to answer, and for a moment everything was tense. And then it all came pouring out.
“Because you haven’t called me once since we had sex! I thought I did something wrong, but then I find out you’re not mad! You probably don’t give a care for me anyways! And that cheeseburger, it was so good, I just felt like I couldn’t compare!” Arthur heaved in deep breaths, shaking with anger and hurt. Alfred stared at him for a moment before he broke down into laughter.
“Arthur, of course I love you more than a cheeseburger. Hell, I love you more that the world itself. Don’t compare yourself to food, however amazing it is.” He leaned across the table and kissed Arthur, silencing the arguments coming from his lips. It was so chaste, just a simple, small pressure, but it fried Arthur’s nerves and covered him in a bright red flush. The weight was gone with the contact, and suddenly the whole situation seemed horribly ridiculous. Alfred drew a way, only a few inches, and looked into Arthur’s emerald eyes, his sapphires glimmering in the fluorescent light of McDonald’s.
“Sorry I didn’t call,” he murmured. It would have been believable without the small smile tugging at his lips. Arthur glared a little at him.
“You better be, you wanker,” Arthur muttered back. He closed the distance between them and crushed their lips together. Everything, if not perfect, was just a little better. And it was comforting that one of America’s loves, McDonald’s, would never replace him. Maybe things would work out, after all.
[rolls on the floor in shame]
Dearie, I hope you enjoyed it ;A;
AUTHOR/ARTIST:
mossnotfungusRECIPIENT:
tsumetaitsubasaCHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: US/UK
RATING: ...PG-13?
SUMMARY: Arthur's self esteem problems come into play when he realizes just how damn good McDonald's is.
Arthur stared at the phone; how many hours had he been doing this? He looked at his window and saw that the busy life of his neighborhood had hushed as the sun had sunk. It was finally dusk, and Arthur sighed, disappointment heaving through his body and making him sink into his seat. Another day without a call; how long did Alfred intend to ignore him?
Honestly, Arthur wasn’t sure what he had done this time. Usually it was ridiculous things that hurt Alfred’s feelings and caused him to retract back to his neutralism and ignore Arthur for months. Last time, it had been a weight comment; the time before, a well placed insult about his old boss. And honestly, Arthur had found it all rather irritating, and the ends he had to run to in order to gain Alfred’s forgiveness were both embarrassing and extreme. But it always proved, to both himself and Alfred, that he loved him more than anything in the world, even his dignity and pride.
But this time was different; Arthur couldn’t remember for the sake of him what on earth he had done to Alfred. They had been on such good terms lately; well, actually, they had been on wonderful terms, if his night at Alfred’s had proven anything. Arthur quirked a small smile and remembered just all the things that had happened, and sighed forlornly at the memories of his boy’s clever hands. Arthur had finally taken that step, and thrown off all his inhibitions and fears when it came to Alfred, and confessed every single feeling he had built up. The result had been instantaneous; a kiss and a long, unforgettable night in Alfred’s bedroom. The next morning, Alfred had made them homemade waffles and eggs, and even had the courtesy to go out and buy some Earl Grey tea while Arthur was still asleep. Arthur had never felt so in love in his life, never so much happiness he did than that moment Alfred took his hands and pressed a soft good morning kiss to his lips. They were finally together, after years of distance and fighting and hurt.
If Alfred meant every word he said- and Arthur still had a gut wrenching fear that the boy didn’t realize just what he meant- why hadn’t he called him afterwards? Surely, it wasn’t customary in American culture to have an amazing night of sex and just leave it at that? (But if what Matthew had told him, than it was. Arthur shook his head to get his son’s doubts out of his head). Arthur couldn’t remember if he had done something wrong when he woke up and kissed Alfred back with all he had. Did he do something wrong, when he ate every bit of Alfred’s cooking, when he stammered and blushed when he realized the boy thought beyond himself to go and bother to get tea for him? Arthur didn’t think so, but if the three weeks without a single call had any indication, he must have screwed something up.
Arthur gave one last look at the phone; it was still probably noon over where Alfred was. He could make a call, couldn’t he? He has work though, Arthur reminded himself, he’s too busy to talk to you. So, dejected and despairing, Arthur got up from his chair in the sitting room, and went to go fix himself some tea before he called it a night.
Arthur didn’t get very far, though; one of his Jane Austen books was heaved at his head, rather forcefully. “Bloody hell!” he yelled, and fell back to his chair, a new bruise on his head. He looked around for the culprit, and noticed a faint glow coming from around the corner. The fairies were up to trouble, again.
“What do you want?” he snapped, “you don’t have to throw Sense and Sensibility to get my attention.”
Muffled murmurs came from around the corner, but none of them answered him. He decided to leave them be and move to the kitchen. Luckily, he dodged Hamlet when it came hurdling towards him.
“Bloody hell!” he cursed. Finally, the fairies appeared, all glaring at him in unison. He gulped and took a step back.
“Call him,” one of them hissed.
“Now.” Another added menacingly. Arthur bit his lip; he rarely saw the murderous side of his sprites, but when he did, it was quite frightening.
“A-all right,” he stammered, “just don’t throw anymore classics.”
“Dicken’s is next,” they threatened.
Arthur made a mad dash for his phone and dialed Alfred’s number. He watched the fairies disappear around the corner again, back to where his extensive library was. He gulped and prayed that Alfred would pick up.
“’Sup?” Arthur nearly screamed for joy.
“Alfred! Thank God! I need to talk to you! The fairies are attacking me with Shakespeare and Austen! They wanted me to talk to you!”
The other side of the line was silent.
“Arthur, are you ok?” Alfred asked, sounding truly worried.
“Of course I am! But I won’t be if the fairies get their way!” Arthur yelped. He thought he could hear their evil laughter from his library.
“Arthur, we’ve already gone over this; there’s no such thing as fairies.”
“Yes we have already gone over it. I already told you that you’re not pure enough to see them,” Arthur huffed. A book whirled by his head, hitting his wall with a loud bang.
“The hell?” he yelled at them. He picked the book up; A Tale of Two Cities. “Are you trying to kill me??”
“Ask him to lunch,” they hissed, all too menacingly, “or else.”
“Alfred! The fairies want me to take you to lunch tomorrow!” Arthur wailed. He could hear Alfred sigh in annoyance, but his tone was pretty happy.
“Sure, old man, where are we going?”
“Wherever you want! I’ll get on a plain right now. Where are you?” Arthur asked. He moved to get his keys and the fickle fairies, suddenly much more calm and pleasant, helped him get his jacket on.
“I’m in New York, of course. Come over around noon! I’ll surprise you! See yah Iggy!” Alfred said before hanging up. Arthur sighed with relief; at least now he’d be able to talk things through with Alfred.
Before he opened the door to make his way to the airport, he turned around to see the fairies gathered, waiving him off. He glared at them and spoke in his sugar sweet, syrup voice, “the place better be spiffed, and those books back in place, or I’m adopting a troll from Norway.”
Their venomous protests were goodbye enough.
Xxxxx
Arthur watched in mild fascination as Alfred shoved the massive hamburger into his mouth. It was a little mesmerizing; the monstrosity had three patties, three slices of cheese, a handful of lettuce, three onions, and a plump, juicy slice of tomato wedged in. Everything in between the two buns was doused in a special sauce that looked quite questionable to Arthur, yet Alfred managed to keep it off him. In one hand he had the heart-attack-on-buns, and in the other, the New York Times. He was so engulfed in the news he was reading and his food that he didn’t even bother with Arthur. Needless to say, it hurt Arthur, if only a little, and the Britton tried to regain the young country’s attention.
He cleared his throat in hopes that it would break Alfred’s concentration; nothing.
He tapped his fingers against the table of the small booth they were sharing; nothing.
Thoroughly pissed, he crossed his arms and glared daggers into the American’s forehead. The boy had the nerve to take a sip of his Coke.
“Bloody hell, Alfred!” Arthur yelled, slamming his fists on the table. Alfred yelped and dropped the newspaper. “I didn’t come here to watch you stuff greasy fast food in your mouth!!”
Alfred blinked for a moments, expression blank, and then narrowed his eyes at Arthur.
“McDonalds isn’t that greasy,” he muttered.
“Sure, Alfred, and France isn’t a pervert.”
They glared at each other momentarily; Alfred broke the silence first by shrugging and setting his burger down.
“So, if you didn’t take me here to watch me eat, why are we here?” Alfred asked, eyebrows quirked in challenge. Arthur gulped and looked down at the table. That was the trick, wasn’t it? Arthur didn’t really want to tell Alfred just how much he’d been missing hi m those last few weeks; it was obvious that Alfred hadn’t missed him. But that’s why he was there, really; he had missed Alfred’s booming voice and honey hair. He missed looking into those blue, blue eyes and loosing track of himself for a moment. And he missed hugging the man, holding his hand, waking up to his smile. Arthur couldn’t- wouldn’t- admit it though, and he swallowed back his feelings and went with something close to the truth, but not quite there.
“I was curious what you’ve been up to lately,” he said, dodging around the truth as much as possible. Alfred frowned for a moment, staring at Arthur with something that looked like aggravation and a bit of sadness.
“I’ve been insanely busy, lately. My boss is really working me; I’m still trying to work out this national debt thing and that whole mess, and then there’s health care. I don’t know what to do! Part of me wants it, bad, and is totally sick of Matthew’s comments of ‘My health care’s better than yours, ha ha”, but then the other part is really afraid of it, scared of giving the man too much power. Driving me crazy, you know?” Alfred finished with a weak smile. Arthur was quiet for a moment, letting that sink in; he had been busy. He wasn’t avoiding him, right? He waited for the relief to come, to lift the worry off of his chest, but it never came.
“That sounds…difficult.”
Arthur’s lame comment hung in the air, and the two blondes stared at each other. It was tense, and Arthur almost considered leaving it there, and going back home. But he didn’t want to leave without talking to Alfred about his trouble, not yet.
“Alfred,” Arthur murmured, reaching out for his hand, “you need to reach out to others for help. I’m here, so just cal-
He never finished the sentence full of emotion that, for once, Arthur was willing to share and expose; Alfred’s phone went off that moment. He jumped and answered it after the first two bars of ‘Sexy Back’, murmuring low into the speaking.
Arthur sighed and sunk back into his seat. Was he just cock blocked by a phone, or was Fate just trying to keep him lonely for eternity?
“Shit!” Alfred yelled, gaining a few glares from mothers nearby, “I totally forgot! They’re sending documents over to my apartment today! Crap! I have to go!” He bolted up from his seat, grabbing his jacket and turning.
“So should I just go home then?” Arthur asked in masked misery. Alfred turned around, face surprised.
“’Course not! My apartment’s like five minutes away. Stay here and watch my burger, kay? Don’t let anyone eat it!” And without a second word, he bolted out the door, leaving a dejected Englishman sitting by himself with a half eaten meal.
Arthur watched the man’s figure fade away into the crowds of New York, and then dropped his eyes to the table. There’s really no way I’ll get through to Alfred, he thought in dejection. The wheels of self doubt and dismay started to turn and work in his head. He doesn’t love me, not really. He didn’t bother to call me; he barely even talked to me during lunch. Arthur glared at the hamburger sitting before him. He probably loves that burger more than he loves me.
What did cheese burgers have that he didn’t? A cheese burger couldn’t love you! A cheeseburger couldn’t help you and care for you! So why did Alfred love them so bloody much? Arthur considered what it had that he didn’t; flavor, diversity, and dependency. Oh Lord, he thought, am I really comparing myself to a cheeseburger?
But Arthur couldn’t forget the way Alfred would moan, in plain wanton pleasure, whenever he’d take a bite of the cheeseburger. Surely he hadn’t heard that sound from Alfred in the middle of their love. Arthur wondered if the hamburgers Alfred would swallow down were that good. So he did what he never though he would; he picked up the cheeseburger, half cold and soggy from the sauce, and stared at it. Slowly, and very cautiously, he took a small bite. The grilled meat and cheese were a wonderful combination, and the crisp lettuce and onions just added to the kick of the whole flavor. He gasped and sighed at just how damn good it was; then the realization hit him.
“He’ll never love me as much as he loves you,” Arthur muttered. He set the cheeseburger down and rested his face in his hands. All he wanted to do was cry, now. A bloody cheeseburger was better than him; he had never felt so hopeless before in his life.
“Uh, Arthur, what was that you just said to my cheeseburger?” Alfred’s incredulous voice asked. Arthur’s eyes shot open in horror and he looked up to see that Alfred was standing before him, folder of documents in hand, with a truly surprised expression. Arthur stammered and tried to tell him off.
“I did not talk to your cheeseburger!” he yelped.
Alfred’s eyebrows furrowed. “Uhm, yes you did. And did you just say that I wouldn’t love you as much as a cheeseburger?” He looked truly angry at this, and Arthur swallowed back his fear.
“No! Of course not!” Arthur yelled. Alfred shook his head and sat down back at the bench. He shoved the meal aside and took Arthur’s hands into his hands.
“Why would you think I would love a cheeseburger more than you?” he asked. The honest sincerity in his eyes made Arthur’s burn a little, and he briefly wondered if it was the onions making him tear up. He bit his tongue, refusing to answer, and for a moment everything was tense. And then it all came pouring out.
“Because you haven’t called me once since we had sex! I thought I did something wrong, but then I find out you’re not mad! You probably don’t give a care for me anyways! And that cheeseburger, it was so good, I just felt like I couldn’t compare!” Arthur heaved in deep breaths, shaking with anger and hurt. Alfred stared at him for a moment before he broke down into laughter.
“Arthur, of course I love you more than a cheeseburger. Hell, I love you more that the world itself. Don’t compare yourself to food, however amazing it is.” He leaned across the table and kissed Arthur, silencing the arguments coming from his lips. It was so chaste, just a simple, small pressure, but it fried Arthur’s nerves and covered him in a bright red flush. The weight was gone with the contact, and suddenly the whole situation seemed horribly ridiculous. Alfred drew a way, only a few inches, and looked into Arthur’s emerald eyes, his sapphires glimmering in the fluorescent light of McDonald’s.
“Sorry I didn’t call,” he murmured. It would have been believable without the small smile tugging at his lips. Arthur glared a little at him.
“You better be, you wanker,” Arthur muttered back. He closed the distance between them and crushed their lips together. Everything, if not perfect, was just a little better. And it was comforting that one of America’s loves, McDonald’s, would never replace him. Maybe things would work out, after all.
[rolls on the floor in shame]
Dearie, I hope you enjoyed it ;A;
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