"as i recall it.."

"you were amazing."

       Alfred Jones stood in the middle of the crowded pit in the even more crowded London club. He stood out brightly in the crowd of people, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a tucked in David Bowie t-shirt, and a leather jacket that looked a little too tight on him. He felt like he fit right in though, a regular at these types of shows.

       He watched as the lights dimmed even more, and the band began to walk out onto the stage. First, a drummer, with dark brown eyes and even darker brown hair. A tall bass player followed him out. Then, the lead guitarist came out, the crowd cheering louder than before as he made his way across the stage. And then, finally, as the bright stage lights finally clicked on, Alfreds favorite walked onto the stage. A short, blonde haired man quickly made his way out, and stood right in the center of the stage. His eyes were bright green, and he had a matching green streak dyed into the front of his bangs that made them stand out even more. He was dressed in a pair of tight blue jeans, that were worn and covered in tears, and a white t shirt with another bands logo on the front, with the sleeves cut off, showing his sides, and letting the small tattoos on his arms be seen if you were close enough to really look at them.

"Hello, and thank you all for coming!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the band began to play loudly, and quickly, and the grin on the man at the front of the stage's face was telling. He threw his guitar over his shoulder as he grabbed hold of the microphone, pulling it off the stand and beginning to sing. He gave a glance in the Americans direction, as if he could sense his presence, before closing his eyes and really letting himself get into his performance.

       And Alfred watched, taking in everything. He held onto every move the singer made, every word that he sang and every note he played, and looked at him affectionately through the whole show. He made his way closer and closer, pushing through the crowd and making his way up as the show went on, before finally, as the last song of the night was just beginning, Alfred was at the very front. He stood before his beloved singer, staring up at him and reaching his hand up to him, and let out a content sigh as he felt him grab it for just a moment.

And as the singer held his hand, it felt as if everything stopped, as if they were the only two in the room. As if the crowd behind them stopped, as if the amplifiers and the speakers had been turned off, as if it were six in the morning, and the two of them were back at their apartment, in bed, alone. As if no one was yelling for Alfred to move out of the way.

After he let go of his hand, Alfred was promptly shoved out of the way by the crowd, and the show went on as it had been before until it was over.

"Goodnight!" The man yelled excitedly into the microphone, as full as just as much energy as when the show started. He threw the microphone back onto the stand, knocking it over, before following the rest of the band off the stage.

As the show ended, Alfred practically ran into the back, pushing his way past the crowd of people looking for autographs. As he finally got to his husband, he wrapped his arms around his waist and picked him up for just a moment, before giving him a quick kiss.

"You were amazing tonight, Arthur."

       Alfred grinned down at him, and gently placed one of his hands on his cheek, brushing away a bit of hair that was stuck to it. He leaned in for another kiss, before pulling away for just a moment to take off the leather jacket he was wearing. He wrapped the jacket around Arthur's shoulders, before putting his hands right back on his waist.

Arthur grabbed the jacket and put it on, and, unlike on Alfred, it was a perfect fit on him.