The Writer and The Café

Chapter Four

Alfred had no idea what he was going to do about Arthur. He scratched his head with panic as he thought about what he had said to the Brit, its fairly normal for him to call people and things 'cute', 'hun', or 'sweetheart', but he was an American. It may not be like that in London so he began to figure out how he was going to face Arthur from then on. The problem was that the longer he thought about Arthur the more he focused on the man rather than his problem. Alfred let a small smile slip past his lips as he remembered Arthur's laugh, his surprised expression, when he was angry, and the one that made his heart beat faster was the Brit's excited face. Alfred snapped back to reality and let out a deep breath trying to focus but found it difficult and he needed a distraction.

As he walked by a hallway mirror he noticed the blood on his shirt and decided to strip it off and throw it into his laundry hamper. As he went back to his living room he swung by the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge before going to his couch and plopping into it. After opening the bottle and taking a swig of it Alfred placed it on the coffee table and reached for his laptop that sat beside the couch in its case. He pulled the computer out and opened it on his lap, finding where he last left of editing his chapter. After seeing a few of the back streets he could go back and rewrite some of the action scenes that he had partially described in this book. Alfred smiled as he silently thanked his brother for the idea of coming to London.

After becoming completely distracted by his writing Alfred hadn't realized what time it was. He was shocked to find that it was 3 in the morning as he closed the computer and laid it on his couch. As soon as he went to his bedroom, slipped his pants off, and got into the bed Arthur came back into his mind. With a groan Alfred rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow. As he fell asleep Alfred began to think about how he was going to face the Brit tomorrow, rather than if he should.

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Arthur woke up after a restless sleep and realized why he had slept all night. He felt hot all over, his nose was runny, and his throat hurt. Knowing exactly what was wrong pissed him off even now, it was all because he ran home in the rain last night. Groaning as he slowly rolled out of the bed, he kept his blanket around him as he went to get hid phone in the kitchen. As he pulled the phone off of the charger he texted Francis and til him t take the day off. After he sent the text he left the phone and went to the kitchen to make himself tea, but as he passed by his hallway he remembered about Alfred from last night and felt his temperature rise and he was hoping it was just a fever.

Shaking the American from his thoughts he went to the kitchen and made his tea, then went to the living room and flipped on the television. He switched it on the the news and sipped on his tea when he realized how late it was. Arthur rarely got ill so he was bewildered by the time on the corner of the screen. After he got over his initial shock he began to look for Biscuit to feed her but he found no sign of his cat. Then he remembered where he found her last time and groaned in annoyance when he thought about talking to Alfred. But being the person he was Arthur knew he had to face the American eventually and decided he had better get it over with before he had too much time to think about it.

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Alfred woke up with a start as he heard loud, repetitive knocks coming from his front door. Quickly throwing the blankets off of his bed he ran to the door saying, "One moment," as he unlocked it. To his amazement his found a miserable looking Arthur standing outside his door who looked as if he was about to pass out.

"Woah, Artie are ya okay?" Alfred asked concerned for the Brit.

Arthur sniffed and pinched his nose with a irritated sigh and said, "No, but I will be eventually."

"Are you sure? I can make some homemade soup or stew for you. You honestly look like you need it dude," Alfred said with a reassuring smile.

"Honestly I'll be fine but thank you for your concern." Arthur replied politely and waved it off. "But I am here looking for Biscuit. Have you seen her?"

Alfred turned around and scanned his living room for the female cat and saw no sign of her. He turned back to the Brit and said sheepishly, "I don't see her but I just woke up so I still have to look around."

Arthur looked up in shock and embarrassment. "Alfred I'm so sorry if I woke you up, that was terrible if me to do."

Alfred waved it off with a bright smile. "Nah its okay dude, I needed to wake up anyways. Come on in and I'll look for her," he said as he opened the door and left to go and check his room. Arthur entered the apartment and closed the door behind him when he realized that Alfred was only wearing a pair of boxers. He felt a blush creep him his neck and warm his ears as he looked away and checked the bathroom for his cat and still didn't find her.

As he walked back to the living room he found that Alfred had slipped on a pair of pants but still no shirt. He wasn't going to complain though, he was thankful the american put something else on.

"I didn't find her dude, and I can't seem to find Freedom either," he mumbled as he scratched the back of his neck from worry. Alfred's eyes widened as he held a finger up in the air, signaling for Arthur to wait.

Alfred walked down the hall and slowly opened the already cracked door to his washing machine and drier. He smiled and looked at Arthur, holding a finger to his lips he waved the Brit over and pointed into the small room.

As he walked over Arthur couldn't help but smile even though he felt sick. Biscuit and Alfred's cat Freedom were cuddled next to each other and sleeping peacefully on top of the American's washer. Alfred and Arthur gave each other a look saying to leave them alone and went back to the living room to laugh at their discovery.