The Writer and The Café

Chapter Six

Arthur knew he had to be dreaming, he knew that what was happening to him could never happen in real life. He found his american neighbor gently pushing him down onto his bed and just staring at him with lust filled eyes. Alfred leaned down close to Arthur's face and whispered his name before he placed his lips onto the Brits. A shock ran through Arthur's body as he wrapped his arms around Alfred's shoulders instinctively and tried to pull their bodies closer. The feeling of someone holding him, kissing him and wanting him was new but he loved it and wanted more. 

A moan slipped past Arthur's lips as Alfred slid a hand underneath his shirt and slowly felt every groove and movement of Arthur's body. The Brit pulled his lips from Alfred and buried his face into his neck and took a deep breath of his scent. Thoughts of Alfred's smile, laughter, and pout ran through his head and he pushed the fake one away. "Please leave me alone," he whimpered to him. He doesn't want this, Arthur felt as if he was betraying Alfred if he continued this.

The dream Alfred pouted and looked at Arthur sadly. "Do you not want me like this Artie?" He asked as he leaned in closer to Arthur again.

"No!" Arthur yelled as he rolled off of the bed to get away from him and stood up. "You're not Alfred! And he wouldn't do this anyways."

He got off of the bed and slowly made his way towards Arthur. "What makes you think that? You don't know what Alfred thinks about," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around Arthur comfortingly. "Why don't you try to go after him?"

Arthur leaned back into the embrace and shook his head. "I'm afraid to, and I don't even know if I really like him, and he won't even like me back," he mumbled as he felt his eyes water. "No one ever has."

The dream Alfred chuckled and tightened his grip on Arthur. "And they are missing out on having you Arthur," he said as he leaned down and rested his chin on the Brits head. "But you're Arthur Kirkland! Aren't you a stubborn man who always gets what he wants if he fights for it?"

The Brit froze at the words and grinned as he laughed. "You're right, I'm going..."

He was cut off as he was awoken from his dream from a loud knocking on his front door. He looked at the clock and saw that it was only just after noon and knew he hadn't been asleep for very long. Arthur saw the box of tissues on the tale and blew his nose before throwing it away and heading for the door. As the door opened he found Alfred standing there with a goofy smile on his face and a pot in his hands.

"Yo Artie! I made some food for ya like I promised," he said as looked down at the Brit happily. Arthur looked at him in shock for a moment before he remembered that the american do offer to cook for him. He sighed as he smiled at Alfred, "Thank you, would you like to have dinner with me?" He asked as he moved out of the door way to let Alfred come in.

Alfred nodded and walked in as he went to the kitchen and placed the pot down onto the stove and pulled the pot holders off of his hands. "Well I don't mind but shouldn't we have lunch first?" He asked  a bit confused.

Arthur shook his head as he chuckled softly. "If you're going to live in Britain you should learn our words. We have breakfast, dinner, and tea," he listed of as he held up a finger with each one.

It was Alfred's turn to laugh at Arthur. "Yeah dude, my bad," he said as he turned to the Brit with a smirk on his face. "Now come on and get some food into your stomach, it'll make ya feel better."

With a sigh, Arthur nodded and walked into the kitchen. Alfred watched him as he went to a cabinet and reached for two bowls on the top shelf but was just unable to reach them. Walking behind him, Alfred barely leaned into Arthur's back and grabbed the two bowls that the Brit couldn't reach. Quickly turning around and going to the pot of soup, Alfred began to dish out the food. He was too afraid to see Arthur's reaction to what he had done, but knew he had to face him as well. As he turned to hand Arthur his bowl of soup he stilled, the Brits eyes were wide and he had a rosy red cheeks.

"Artie, a-are you okay? Do you have a fever now?" Alfred asked as he set the bowls down onto the counter and placed the back of his hand on Arthur's forehead. He hoped it wasn't a fever, he wanted Arthur to be flustered and embarrassed about it but knew that was impossible.

Arthur swatted his hand away and said angrily, "I could have reached those bloody bowls! I didn't need your help you damn American!" He then grabbed his bowl, a spoon from the silver ware drawer, and went to the couch to sit down wrapped up in his blanket. 

Grabbing a spoon from the same drawer, Alfred went to the living room and sat down onto the couch beside Arthur and he couldn't help but smile at the Brit snuggled up in his blanket. "How do you like the soup Arthur?" Alfred asked as he turned and sat cross legged so he could face him. All Arthur did was look at Alfred and nod as he went back to eating, he hasn't realised how hungry he was until he finished the bowl quickly and was ready for a second helping. After only going through half of his bowl, Alfred saw that Arthur was done with his so he asked with a knowing smirk, "Would you like me to fix you more?"

Arthur shook his head no and tried to stand up but was stopped by Alfred's hand on his shoulder pushing him down. He remembered his dream and scooted away from his hand as he looked up at the American with a dark red blush. "P-please don't touch me," he mumbled nervously.

Alfred looked at Arthur confused but he liked seeing the Brit so flustered. "Why Artie? Do you not like it when I touch you?" He asked as he felt his heart race. Alfred could see himself taking the Brit here and now but knew he would never do it. He took his hand off of Arthur's shoulder and grabbed the bowl from his hands as he let out a deep and disappointed breath.

"Never mind, ignore that," Alfred mumbled as he got up and walked to the kitchen. He was trying to get close to Arthur but he felt as if every word out of his mouth was just pushing them farther apart. As he placed the bowl onto the counter to pour more soup into it he felt a pressure against his back and knew it was Arthur. Alfred turned around and Arthur gripped the sides of his shirt as he buried his face in the Americans shirt.

"Artie, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Alfred asked  as he rubbed Arthur's back soothingly as his eyebrows furrowed with worry.

Arthur shook his head and tried to pull Alfred closer to him, but when that didn't work he looked up at the American with a pout. "Please kiss me," he whined as he tightened his grip on Alfred. Arthur knew he was taking a huge gamble, but he was willing to take the risk.