The Writer and The Café

Chapter Eight

"Don't scare me dude. What's up?" Alfred asked as he paced worriedly in Arthur's living room. He was now worried about two things. And that isn't good for him.

"Well, first I want to say thanks for throwing that curve ball at me." Alfred could hear the sarcasm dripping from Matthews' voice and couldn't help but smirk.

"No problem bro."

"Second, I can't get you the time extension. You only have a month now. So please don't make any major changes? Just edit the scenery?" Alfred could hear the begging in his brother's voice and frowned at it.

"Fine," he grumbled as he hung up the phone. He walked back to Arthur's room and sat down beside him. The rag on Arthur's forehead had fallen onto the floor so he picked it up and dropped it into the bowl of cool water. Picking it back out he wrung the rag and placed it back onto Arthur. As he sat in the chair and watched Arthur sleep for a few minutes before he got up and headed out the door. Alfred went to his apartment and grabbed his computer before heading straight back to Arthur. Locking the door behind him, he went to the couch in Arthur's living room and sat down.

The computer felt cool to his touch as Alfred opened the laptop and turned it on. He looked over his shoulder to the hallway leading to the brits bedroom to make sure he wasn't going to walk in on him. A blush crept up onto his face as Alfred felt like he was about to watch porn and didn't want his parents to walk in.

A chuckle slipped through his lips as Alfred turned back to his computer and got to work. Every half hour he would get up and go to Arthur's room to check up on him. He would soak the rag in the water to cool it off and place it back onto the brit every time.

After a few hours, Arthur slowly woke up from his sick haze and looked at the clock on his wall. Seeing that it was late in the afternoon, he slowly sat up and was surprised when something fell into his lap. He sat up on the bed and noticed that he felt a lot better than he did the other day. Arthur saw a bowl of water and a bottle of pills sitting on the bedside and was confused because he didn't remember getting them himself.

Getting up out of the bed he made his way out of his opened bedroom door. When he made it out of the hallway he saw Alfred sitting on his couch typing away on a computer. As Arthur realised that he was the one who took care of him a blush crept onto his face. He let out a soft cough to let Alfred know that he was awake behind him. The American turned with wide eyes before slamming the computer close and getting up.

"Yo Artie! How are you feeling?" He asked as he walked over to him with a concerned look on his face.

"I'm feeling much better. But why are you still here?"

Alfred's concerned face contorted to one of shock and confusion. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Arthur looked at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to remember what did happen. "Um. You gave me some soup. I don't remember anything after that." He looked up at Alfred with guilty eyes as he felt bad about the stranger taking care of him.

Alfred stood dumbstruck before he sat on the edge of the couch he was just on. "Oh." Was all he mumbled before he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry you had to take care of me. Did I do something bad?" Arthur asked as he remembered that he has been known to act strangely when drunk or sick.

"No nothing bad," Alfred said with a light chuckle. "Just confusing. But don't worry about it." He said as he sat up off of the couch and ruffled the brits hair.

Arthur smiled at the gesture and leaned into Alfred's hand unknowingly. "Well as a thank you, please feel free to come into the café and have whatever you want. All for free of course."

Shaking his head, Alfred pulled his hand away from Arthur's hair. "I'll take you up on the offer to hang out at the café dude, but I'm still paying for my food. If I ever get sick though I'll be looking for you to take care of me."

A soft pout slipped onto Arthur's face when Alfred pulled his hand away. "Okay." Was all he said before he turned around and made his way back to his bedroom. After Arthur left Alfred went back to his computer and saved his work before shutting it down. His heart was racing with adrenaline from Arthur's appearance.

He thanked everyone and everything for making sure that the brit didn't see his computer screen. He saw Arthur walk back into the room carrying his blanket, the rag, and the bowl of now tepid water. Alfred ran over and grabbed the things from Arthur's hands. "Go hang out on the couch and I'll bring you some warmed up soup."

With a short nod, the brit went to the couch and curled up on it but wanted to get out and move around. Seeing his phone, he picked it up and sent a quick text to his workers telling them to be at the café in the morning. After he sent it the sound of Alfred coming into the room took his attention. Seeing the American with a warm smile and heading towards him sent his heart ablaze.

"Here," Alfred murmured as he handed the warm bowl over to Arthur and sat beside him. "I'm glad to know you're feeling better. Do you want me to stay for a while longer?" Everything in Arthur wanted him to nod his head and ask him to stay the night, but he knew he couldn't.

"I'll be fine," Arthur said back with a pained smile. "I think I feel well enough to go back to work tomorrow."

Alfred stared at the brit for a moment before he shook his head sternly. "How about I work for you tomorrow?"