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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Feb 27, 2011 17:15:36 GMT -5
If anything, Arthur's actions only made his face hotter. After a moment of stumbling over words, he reached up to pull his hand away, laughing a bit too loudly.
"Haha, no, I'm fine! You're crazy or something, dude! I'm fine, never been better!" Alfred blurted out all at once. He didn't realize he was still holding his hand for a moment, then when he did, still considerably flustered, he immediately let go.
At that moment especially, he really couldn't deny it. He'd grown to like Arthur a lot more than he probably should. This would be all fine and dandy and potentially easier to deal with, but Arthur was a boy. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that Alfred was a boy.
The American had consented with himself, yes. He accepted that he could have feelings for human beings that didn't have boobs, and he did so years ago. He remembered. It was never anything like love, of course, or even anything so far as a crush, but he'd caught himself checking out a few boys that went to his school back home on different occasions.
He, himself, didn't think there was anything wrong with liking and even loving someone of the same gender. It didn't matter. So long as two people are happy, it didn't matter. It was always a matter of what other people thought. Other people, as in, the people who, within the time span of several bad experiences, had called him a useless insert inappropriate F word that he completely and utterly hated to hear, and these weren't just random students he didn't know. If that were the case, he'd ignore them, not even sparing them a side glance. Okay, so maybe he would spare a side glance, and maybe a middle finger or tongue would be involved. But regardless, among these people were people the blond had previously considered to be his closest friends. Whose to say Arthur or anyone else wouldn't do the same?
Arthur was prim and proper and gentlemanly, after all. He was probably brought up to be straight as a toothpick, and in turn, just that. It's not like he could ever return his affections to begin with, Alfred's probably obnoxious qualities added to the equation, so why bother?
"Thanks for helping me study and all. You rock, man. But, uh.. I think I should go now." He ended up deciding off impulse, flashing him a ridiculously fake smile. "Y' know, it's late and all, and I think I might've bugged you when you were in the middle of reading or something anyway."
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Feb 28, 2011 18:17:36 GMT -5
Arthur hadn't even really heard the first few words of whatever Alfred said. His eyes and his mind were focused on the American grabbing holding his hand - actually holding it, now, rather than accidentally brushing by it, like they had earlier -, and just how warm it felt. (...Was it really warm, or was it just him? Arthur was certain that he was red all the way up to his ears, so it wouldn't be very surprising if his own hand was just as hot.)
He didn't start really paying attention until Alfred released his hand. For a moment, he wondered if Alfred had noticed something off, something wrong, and had let go out of disgust. In the next, he brutally shoved those thoughts to the deepest depths of his mind.
He shouldn't even be feeling this way, and whether or not Alfred felt disgusted by these emotions he shouldn't have been feeling shouldn't have mattered. Hadn't he sworn, ever since Mary, ever since Elizabeth, that he'd keep everyone an arm's length away? Hadn't he sworn not to give anyone the chance to hurt him again, consciously or inadvertently? That he'd never give anyone the chance to leave him, or to die? (But hadn't he also sworn to Victoria, with her sweet words and beautiful literature, that he'd try? Hadn't he accepted - hesitantly, yes, but accepted nonetheless - that he had yet to meet his prince? That though he had failed once as a knight, there were always second chances?)
No, no. He couldn't do this to Alfred. (How many clouds would it take to block out the sun? How much did it have to rain?) Things were better - quieter, safer, unfulfilling - this way, with their friendship that he didn't really want to call friendship. Alfred deserved a beautiful girl with long, flowing hair (or perhaps short; what did he know about Alfred's preferences, really?), a sweet and mild temper, and an outgoing personality. He deserved someone that he could laugh with, someone he could prouldly introduce to his friends and family, someone without so many stupid insecurities.
Arthur didn't really fit the criteria. At all.
"...You're welcome," the Englishman replied finally, glancing over at his copy of Jane Eyre when it was mentioned. "And it's fine, you weren't a bother." (It seemed that Arthur was more of a bother, given how eager Alfred seemed to leave. Well, he didn't blame the lad.) "I was just about to take a break and get some tea, anyway." He paused, then.
No, stop, don't open your mouth, just let him go--
"Would you like some?"
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Mar 1, 2011 15:51:39 GMT -5
Alfred had to leave, he just had to. That was the only thing he could think of, the only way.
He knew himself well enough by now to know that if he didn't leave and drop this now, while he still might be able to, he'd only grow more attached. If he grew more attached, he'd keep clinging to him. If he kept clinging to him, and if he just happened to overstep boundaries, accidentally, without thinking, off impulse, do something a friend wouldn't do, he'd more than likely be pushed away, and he didn't want that. He really, really didn't want that. Just the thought of it, the thought of Arthur resenting him, ignoring him, looking at him with cold eyes..
God, why did he suddenly feel like he was going to cry? Why did he have to feel this way about him? Why was he letting this get to him so much? Why, why, why?
He ignored the constricting feeling in his chest and swallowed, praying Arthur would just hurry up and say good night already instead of talking about tea, because he was always drinking tea, and God knows that was probably what he'd taste like if he were to kiss him, or something, and.. he was thinking about that again. Bad mind, bad! The second he got back to his room, he decided he was repeatedly smacking his head off the hardest object he could find, probably the wall if he couldn't find anything else, until he passed out from the concussion it would hopefully give him.
"Would you like some?"
That wasn't a 'good night', he quickly realized, looking back to him with shocked, widened eyes. Heck, that wasn't even a 'good day'. British people said that, he thought.
"You're asking me if I want.. tea? With you? Like, right now?" He managed to ask in reply, dumbly, as if Arthur had just spoken to him in a different language. It was all he could manage.
Don't. Just tell him you're busy. You're only gonna' hurt yourself this way, in the long run. You're gonna' do or say something stupid, something you'll regret, and—
"Okay." He agreed.
Scratch that, he definitely wasn't able to drop this now. Oh, how he hated his self-proclaimed as rare moments of weakness.
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Mar 2, 2011 19:52:10 GMT -5
Almost immediately, Arthur regretted asking. Had he been too forward? Should he have offered coffee, instead? Or nothing at all? Maybe it was neither the tea nor coffee that Alfred had problems with, but the one he was invited to drink with. That particular thought hurt more than it should have.
He opened his mouth to recall the offer, to use his sarcasm and sharp words (words that never failed to be harsher than usual, when he dealt with Alfred) in order to cover his mistake. But when Alfred actually agreed – “Okay”, the lad had said; “Okay”! –, Arthur almost had to ask him to repeat his answer. Fortunately, he was able to stop himself just before a bewildered “Beg pardon?” left his lips. (Because really, how embarrassing would it be if he made his excitement over something as simple as tea evident?)
“…Okay,” he dumbly repeated, trying his best to hide the pleased gleam in his eyes as he stood up from his seat. (He probably failed. He could feel the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, no matter how hard he worked to keep it at bay. “I’ll… make some coffee for you, since you don’t like tea.”
And as he opened the door and stepped out, glancing back with a small smile to encourage Alfred to follow, Arthur couldn't help but realize that hope, more than anything else, was a wretched little thing.
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Mar 3, 2011 1:29:55 GMT -5
For whatever reason, the fact that Arthur offered to make him coffee made his heart skip a beat. No, no, it wasn't the fact that he was completely and utterly addicted to coffee, and definitely preferred it over tea.. it was more that Arthur knew that fact. As stupid as he felt for it, he was getting worked up over how Arthur knew just the slightest inkling of his personality.
It wasn't like most people in the dorm didn't know about Alfred's love for coffee, though. He made a big enough deal about it constantly.
"Um, right! Can't really go anywhere if I don't get up, yeah? Coffee sounds cool!" The American blurted out, laughing a little bit too loudly once again. He pulled himself to his feet, hurrying over to Arthur, not wanting to keep him waiting, and—I-Is he smiling? Damn, since when does he do that? But.. at me? Okay, maybe not at me, but.. it looks.. nice. He should do it more often.—followed him out the doorway.
Alfred cast his eyes to the floor while he waited for him to shut his door, oddly enough, feeling a bit embarrassed, maybe even self conscious, somehow.
"Oh.. hey, dude? I just realized.. do you even know how to make coffee?" He joked, feeling the need to overcome the odd, nerve wracking atmosphere that overcame him seconds before.
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Mar 5, 2011 17:16:29 GMT -5
Arthur closed the door, and began making his way downstairs. It was downright embarrassing, just how happy he was, but no amount of internal criticism could keep neither the smile nor the anxiety off his face. Really, it was just tea and coffee! He had to calm down, act natural, and deceive Alfred into thinking that he was completely unaffected by something as stupid as this. (He was good at that, wasn't he?)
Upon hearing Alfred's question, the Englishman scoffed. "Of course I know how to make coffee," he said. (Sometimes, it surprised even himself, just how normal he sounded, when he really expected his voice to tremble and crack.) "I've seen Matthew make it a few times. It wasn't that hard."
...Okay, so maybe he'd never made coffee before, but that was okay! It really did look easy, especially in comparison to making tea. He just had to turn the coffee machine on, get the coffee, put in some cream and ungodly amounts of sugar, and stir. Simple.
Upon reaching the kitchen, he flipped the lights on, turned on the coffee machine, and moved to boil some water while he waited for the coffee pot to be filled. "Do you want something to eat? It'll help, for when you study."
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Mar 9, 2011 23:57:56 GMT -5
Alfred accompanied the Englishman, not quite able to bring himself to walk by his side, more or less lagging behind him. He couldn't help but notice that Arthur's smile was consistent, and him smiling to begin with was a major shocker in itself, but the consistence. It was boggling his mind, in an odd, somewhat confusing and uncomfortable way. When he suddenly jeered and defended himself at the previous jab, the American snickered.
"Well, gee, everybody knows nobody in England drinks coffee! So.. I wasn't sure. Was only trying to say I could make it myself." He laughed.
He drifted into the kitchen after him and, by habit, went over to the less occupied side of the room, putting his back against the wall and eventually sliding down to crouch on the floor. His line of vision quickly found Arthur again. Before he could catch himself, his thoughts were whirring about.
Why did he even offer? No, dude, why didn't I just say no to begin with? He probably thinks I'm annoying, and he obviously doesn't like me that way, so—.. am I just putting way too much thought into this? Snap, I am! Head, shut up! Get a part time job! Go put those little plastic tips at the ends of shoelaces, or something! For the love of Billy Mays, It's just coffee! He isn't offering you a romantic, round trip to the Bahamas! And the trip there would probably suck anyway, 'cause they never have pools on the boats like in the cartoons![/color][/i]
"Um.. yeah! Food! Haha! Awesome idea! I think we still got some of those cheese curls!" Alfred agreed to the more than welcome distraction, jumping to his feet. He rushed to the cabinet, bending over and digging hastily for a snack. Food, yes. Food was something he could always occupy his mind with.
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Mar 16, 2011 19:08:12 GMT -5
Arthur rolled his eyes, but surprisingly, his irritation wasn't all that sharp. "There are people who drink coffee in England, thank you very much," he replied, glancing over at Alfred. "It's just that a majority of the population prefers tea. And go sit on a chair, if you're too tired to stand."
He then made his way to the refrigerator, making a little face when cheese curls were mentioned. "I meant proper snacks, Alfred, not junk food like that."
(And no, the only reason he offered to cook for Alfred was not that whole, 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach' bullshit. There were other reasons, too.)
The Englishman peered into the fridge, examining its contents with a critical eye. What could be made from this? "Is there anything specific you want? A sandwich, soup... ah, there's some leftover roast beef I made earlier today, too..."
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Mar 21, 2011 16:07:07 GMT -5
“Woah, seriously?” Alfred inquired, briefly tilting his head to look him in the eye, honestly shocked. “Thought they all hated everything even slightly American. ‘Cause, y’ know, everyone in England’s usually all..” The blond cleared his throat, then launched into the best fake British accent he could manage. “Hm. ‘Pip pip, cheerio, all Americans are fat and stupid, hur hur hur’.”
He laughed, continuing to dig through the numerous foods stashed away in the cabinet. “No offense though, dude.” His fingertips brushed over an old packet of gummy bears at the very bottom of one of the bins, and he raised an eyebrow, drawing his hand back and diving into another. Maybe there weren’t any cheese curls.
At Arthur’s mention of other food, he perked up, hopeful, listening attentively and observing the older student as he surveyed through the fridge.
“Ooh! Roast beef sounds—”
Oh, dude, wait, he just said he made it, didn’t he? Oh, no. Hell no. I’m not even mentally prepared from the last time I ate his food!
“.. Um.. haha.. how about a sandwich?” The American practically pleaded, not only talking to Arthur, but praying to God, trying with all his might to keep his only slightly faltering smile plastered onto his features, lest he look like he was going to upchuck.
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Mar 22, 2011 20:56:15 GMT -5
At that, Arthur really couldn't help but groan a little and sigh. "If that's so, then everyone in America must speak like..." he trailed off, hesitating slightly before trying his best to adopt an American accent. It was terrible. "Yo dawg. Why you trippin', foo'?" He blanched a little, then, almost as if speaking like that was a sin that would destroy his tongue. He didn't even really know what those words meant, if he had to be honest; he'd just heard it from a horrible American film he'd once watched, and the bastardization of the Queen's English had scarred him to the point where he couldn't forget those words.
Arthur poured some coffee into a cup, and then stared at it for a few seconds. Now... what was it that Matthew did...? He added... cream and sugar, right? ...Right. Tentatively, he reached over to the cabinets and pulled out the aforementioned items, staring oddly at them as he tried to figure out just how much of each to put. Well... a rough estimate shouldn't be all that bad...
"A sandwich?" Arthur repeated, still preoccupied with the coffee... not... that he really cared about whether or not Alfred enjoyed it, or anything. He should just appreciate that Arthur went through the trouble of making him a cup...! (Okay, that was a lie. He wanted it to taste delicious to impress Alfred.) "Alright. What do you want on it?"
And then, just as he said it, he accidentally poured too much cream. "......."
Well, damn.
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Mar 26, 2011 16:16:19 GMT -5
Alfred had just seconds ago shut the cabinet and settled for leaning relaxingly against it while he waited for his coffee. The ‘relaxingly’ part of this equation, however, was thrown out the window the second he heard Arthur's rendition of how Americans spoke. At first, he simply sniggered, then he snorted, and finally, full out burst into a fit of laughter.
“Dag, yo!” He replied amidst his giggling, cracking up even worse afterwards, if possible.
Once he felt he’d been laughing long enough and had gotten somewhat of a bearing on his breathing, he reached behind his glasses, knocking them momentarily askew and wiped a tear from his eye.
“Haha, oh, man.. peanut butter and fluff would be awesome.” He proceeded to request, not noticing Arthur’s blunder, grinning all the while. He didn’t bother affirming or denying how accurate the Englishman’s repetition of slang he had to have heard in a movie actually was. “Just promise me you won’t try to talk like that in public.”
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Mar 29, 2011 14:58:05 GMT -5
Arthur huffed, visibly displeased as he tried to salvage the coffee and glare at the guffawing American, all at the same time. “It isn’t that funny!” he retorted, absolutely embarrassed. “I-I just heard it in a movie, once! And besides, I didn’t make fun of your terrible rendition of the English accent, so you should return the favour!” (…And… ‘dagyo’? What did that mean? It sounded remotely Japanese, but… Alfred wouldn’t know a lick of that language, would he? So… it had to be English… right…?)
After stirring the coffee multiple times and accepting that it looked just a little (as in, a lot) lighter than the ones that Matthew brewed, Arthur handed the cup over to Alfred and began collecting the items needed to make a simple sandwich. He paused, though, after taking out a jar of peanut butter. "...Fluff?" he repeated, not making any effort to hide his confusion. "You want lint in your sandwich?"
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Apr 2, 2011 13:52:49 GMT -5
“Sorry, sorry!” Alfred apologized halfheartedly, raising his hands in defense, all the while, still sporting his wide grin. Arthur really was cute when he was embarrassed, but he was quick to shove that thought out the window. “It was just so funny, seriously! I mean, you said ‘dawg’! And ‘trippin’!”
Deciding he should lay off on the teasing before the other got too flustered and, God forbid, actually angry with him, Arthur’s moods were never a fun experience, he reached out and accepted the coffee that was finally offered to him. “Thanks.” The blond chirped, carefully taking the cup in his hands.
Admittedly, he was a little excited to try it. Would a British rendition of coffee taste different than the American coffee he was used to? After a moment of eying the drink curiously, as if it were some bubbling lab experiment in a beaker, he quirked an eyebrow, mainly taking note of how its color was much, much lighter than what he was accustomed to. He decided that if it did taste different, It’d probably be in a bad way.
Alfred made a face.
.. Well, Arthur made it for him, so..
He shrugged and, being the brave and willing teen that he was—Never judge a book by its cover, right?—brought it to his lips, taking a small, experimental sip.
Alfred made another face.
Right, Arthur made it. It wasn't.. bad, per se..
“Uh, dude, fluff? As in, marshmallow fluff?” He specified once he'd swallowed, a bit shocked. “We might not have that anyway, so jelly’s fine, but..” He poked the Englishman’s cheek with his free hand. “You’ve never had fluff on your sandwiches before before? Yikes, you’re missing out!”
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Apr 4, 2011 3:40:05 GMT -5
Arthur glared a bit in response, not at all amused by Alfred's continued teasing. "It was not as amusing as you're making it sound," he bit out, though a small portion of his irritation was replaced by an almost anxious anticipation as he watched Alfred take the coffee. He carefully watched the American's expression, his anxiety turning gnawing at him from the inside out as he saw it twist a bit in displeasure.
That... couldn't be a good sign. It... didn't look that bad, did it? ...Of course, it was loads lighter than when Matthew made it, but... it still smelled nice! Delicious, in fact! Alfred would realize that as soon as he took a sip, he was sure. (Not... that it really mattered, whether or not Alfred actually enjoyed the coffee. Arthur just didn't like it when people criticized whatever he made. It most definitely did not matter more if the person doing the criticizing was Alfred. Nope, not at all.)
Arthur only relaxed when Alfred took a sip, and didn't explicitly comment on its horrid taste... because that most definitely meant that it wasn't horrid, right?
...Not... that it mattered, whether or not Alfred found the coffee terrible or not. Really. It didn't. Okay, so maybe it did... a little bit.
"...Repeating it multiple times will not magically allow me to understand what this 'fluff' is, Alfred," Arthur replied dryly, doing his utmost to hide whatever bit of excitement had slipped through when Alfred drank the coffee. "But yes, we don't have it, so—" He paused, thoughts coming to a grinding halt as he was poked. Poked! It... wasn't that big of a deal, really, but he'd never been poked before, especially not in that manner, and on his cheek. "What... the bloody hell was that for?"
He tried his hardest to not look embarrassed. He was quite sure that he failed.
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Apr 10, 2011 19:35:35 GMT -5
“Nah, It’s pretty amusing.” Alfred was quick to assure, definitely looking amused as he did so.
After a brief moment of hesitation, he took another more ample taste of the coffee, slowly swishing it around his mouth before swallowing. Surprisingly enough, It wasn’t as off-putting the second time. It still didn’t taste like coffee, in fact, he figured it must’ve tasted more like tea than coffee, but he could bear with it. For Arthur’s sake, anyway.
.. Dang it.
The blond, after carefully and most likely momentarily scrapping the ‘for Arthur’s sake’ section of his thoughts, took a second sip, all the while quirking an eyebrow at the Englishman's reaction. He looked almost embarrassed. From something like a poke, though?
“Huh? Uh.. I dunno’, dude. Just a poke?” He replied confusedly, struggling for an explanation. No one had ever asked him why he’d poked them, or, to be more general, touched them before. They just usually hit him, scold him, push him away or all three. Frankly, he was a bit touchy-feely every so often, especially with his friends and brother. That’s all there was to it. Eventually, he settled for a small shrug and a carefree grin, repeating the poking action. “Why? Got beef?”
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Apr 17, 2011 2:23:55 GMT -5
"...Yes, well... you don't just go around poking people," Arthur replied indignantly, swatting Alfred's hand away at the second poke. "And no, I don't have any 'beef', but I'd appreciate it if you stopped."
The Englishman then stepped around the other to open the refrigerator. It didn't take him long to spot the jars of jelly and peanut butter, so he grabbed both and set them on top of the counter. All he needed now was some bread, which he looked for in the top cabinets. Strange... he could've sworn that there was some just this morning. They couldn't have possibly run out after a mere day.
It didn't even occur to him that he'd misplaced it, because... well, he wasn't that unorganized! (That was half of a lie. Arthur was actually plenty organized; he just... had a terible habit of misplacing things often...)
"...Check those cabinets up there, above the stove, will you?" Arthur requested, frowning a little. "I can't find the bread."
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Apr 20, 2011 23:32:06 GMT -5
Alfred pouted when the other predictably slapped his hand aside, feeling somehow dejected.
Dejection was originally something so foreign to him, probably due to the fact that regardless of all and any of a person’s protests, he’d keep on prodding, usually oblivious to their protests in the first place. Whenever Arthur was involved, however, ever since he’d allowed Arthur to take up such an ample portion of his thoughts, it became so familiar, and all the more prominent. Why this was, he hadn’t the slightest clue, or rather, he did, but he didn’t feel like reminding himself of it. Regardless, when Arthur pushed him away or scolded him or whatever it was that the particular situation called for, it actually affected and bothered him.
Even so, here he was getting upset over him swatting at his hand because he was poking at his face. The American almost laughed out loud at how pathetic that sounded in hindsight. Anyone would get annoyed at that, right?
“Well, geez! It’s not like I can help it. Some people are just fun to poke.” The blond noted with a grin, going on sounding as happy-go-lucky as usual.
He stepped back to give the other space as he went past him, idly rocking back and forth against the counter, letting his mind turn to more pleasant thoughts—like baby llamas in a meadow, one of which he gave the name Carlos, an outgoing personality and a party hat—until Arthur suddenly spoke again.
“Oh, these ones? Sure.” He chirped, turning to do as requested. “Bread, bread..” He brushed his hand around, first finding some squeeze cheese, making a mental note to come back for that and have a field day for himself with it later before coming across a half loaf in the far corner. “Ah.” He had to stand on his tip toes, which was something he rarely had to do, but he managed to reach it, then offered it to Arthur. “Here ya’ go.”
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Apr 27, 2011 16:36:17 GMT -5
Arthur actually found himself pausing at the pout. He was normally rather good with dealing with those looks - how many times did the younger students think they could get away with causing trouble, just by giving him that face? -, but... normally, it wasn't Alfred that was throwing it in his direction. And... really, just from swatting his hand away? Those pokes were downright obnoxious! Surely, other people have stopped him from doing that to them, to...? (Or maybe they didn't, and he was just overreacting... was he...?)
Fortunately for the Englishman, that train of unnecessary worry veered into another direction completely upon seeing Alfred's grin. Alright, so maybe he did tend to overreact... just a little, when it came to Alfred, but he was certain it was just because the boy was related to Matthew, and he didn't want to offend the Canadian's brother. Yes, that had to be it. (It had nothing to do with how charming he found Alfred's smile. Nope, not at all.)
In any case, he reached out, taking the bread from the other student's hands. "Thank you," he said, turning around and placing it on the counter before starting on the sandwich. "Do you mind if the crust is still attached?"
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Apr 28, 2011 19:10:44 GMT -5
“Mmhmm.” Alfred hummed in reply to the other’s thanks and rested back once again, continuing to put some effort into drinking down the remainder of the coffee, the taste of which he was growing more accustomed to. It still didn’t taste like coffee should, but at least it was less of a chore. “Aw, nah, I don’t mind. That’s crazy unnecessary.” He assured, a bit of unsuppressed laughter passing his lips as he went on to reminisce. “I tried doing that once, when I was helping Matt with lunch back home. I kept ripping them by accident, so I just gave up and ended up making cutouts with the bread, smiley faces and rockets and stuff, so.. uh..” He rambled off, his laughter turning sheepish as he reached up to scratch the back of his head. “.. Kinda’ sorta’ wasted all of it..”
Well, not exactly wasted, per se. Before his father could notice the mess of ripped bread and crumbs Alfred had made of the previously spotless marble counter, he stuffed every last piece of it into his mouth in a frenzy that deeply confused his twin, who just so happened to look over to him amidst the act.
This aside and, oddly enough, a bit self conscious for once of his perpetual babbling, the blond directed his focus back to his drink. When there was only a small bit of the liquid remaining, Alfred frowned, eying the bottom of the cup, disappointment and realization flashing in his eyes in unison. There was no sugar left over, none at all. That was why it tasted so weird! Arthur didn't put anywhere near enough sugar in! Ace Detective Alfred had done it again, he was now musing proudly.
Though this discovery was an accomplishment, at least in the blond’s mind, this was also a dilemma. Without enough sugar having been in the coffee, there was no way he’d have enough energy to sustain himself for the rest of however long he’d be studying for, which, in reality, probably wouldn’t be that long, especially taking Alfred’s short attention span into consideration, but still.
He silently debated with himself over how rude it would be to put more sugar into the coffee the older student brewed—considering rudeness, a rarity or maybe even a first for him—then remembered it was nearly gone anyway.
Pursing his lips and throwing a quick glance Arthur’s way to make sure he wasn’t paying too much attention to him, he placed his cup down on the counter with a small, barely audible tap before reaching into the cabinets a second time, slowly pulling out the sugar jar. After a few quiet moments flitted by without questioning, he pulled off the lid and dug a hand in to extract small spoon kept inside, smiling as he did so. He then scooped up as much sugar as the limited bowl of the spoon allowed and plopped it into his mouth, his smile widening at the sweet taste.
Technically, in doing this, he wasn't sweetening the coffee, so there was no possible way for Arthur to be offended. All in a day's work for a hero.
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Apr 30, 2011 4:39:14 GMT -5
"...That sounds like something you'd do even today, if I had to be honest," Arthur replied, evenly spreading the jam on one slice of bread. And then, even with the mantra of 'be nice' being repeated over and over again in his mind, he ended up adding, "Everything you do just reminds me of a child."
...Alright, so he could've phrased that a little better, but it certainly wasn't terrible. There were a million other ways he could've phrased it to make it sound completely condescending and sharp, and it was a bloody good thing he didn't. (Not that it really mattered to him personally, or anything. He just didn't want to deal with a whining and pouting American. That was really all. Not Really.)
Arthur then began spreading the peanut butter on the other slice of bread, making sure it was just as even as the jam. Then, he added the two slices together, creating a - if he could say so himself - perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He dusted his hands off and put the sandwich on a plate before turning around, holding it out for the American to take.
"Here, Alfred," he said. "You're welc— ..." He ended up trailing off mid-sentence, just staring at the other student. Now was one of those very, very rare moments when he just... didn't quite know what to say. "...Alfred," he began slowly, frowning. "What do you think you're doing?"
Drat, he knew he should've made the coffee sweeter! Why hadn't Alfred just said so? Was... it really that bad?
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