Chapter Text
When Arthur saw Prince Alfred on Tinder, he knew it was a catfish — what else could it be, after all? Prince Alfred was a member of the Royal Family, for Christ’s sake, he wouldn’t be on Tinder. Arthur was one of these fans of the Royal Family who were basically a walking encyclopedia; he got that from his grandmother, and he used to hide that from people, that is… It was just a hobby, like those people who liked actors and singers and stuff. So, yes, he knew it was a catfish, but he liked the profile anyway, laughing with himself.
There was a match and Arthur laughed even more.
Finding the whole situation amusing, he messaged the profile, ignoring the prince-factor and acting as if it was just another potential hook-up, just to see where it’d go. And it went smutty really quickly. It was funny to sext the allegedly Prince Alfred. Actually, it wasn’t funny. It was more on the sexy side. Arthur had always had a little bit of a crush on the guy, so he was having fun saying all those dirty things to someone pretending to be him. It was like role-playing, he thought. It went on for quite a while. Arthur never sent photos or personal information, and it felt weird that the guy hadn’t asked for any of those yet. They just sexted, talked about things (the person on the other side seemed to know a lot about the prince because never once he said anything “out of character”), and told jokes… it was nice.
Too nice, actually. Soon enough it stopped being fun, because Arthur was starting to really like the person on the other end of the conversation, and he decided he couldn’t keep that up anymore. It was better to stop before he got hurt.
One evening, he sent a message to “prince” Alfred requesting they made a video call. “We’ve been talking for awhile, don’t you think it’s time we actually see each other?” he sent, with a winking face, pretending he didn’t know it was all a catfish situation.
He knew there wouldn’t be an answer, but it still kind of hurt a little bit when none came. Four hours, then six, and nothing.
Then his phone ringed with an incoming video call. Arthur was speechless. He thought it was really bold for the catfish to accept the request like that, but he admired the person’s courage, and he was curious to see what they looked like, so he accepted the call.
He could’ve dropped dead when the person grinned on the phone, cheeks pink, waving awkwardly. Because it was actually bloody fucking Prince Alfred. There was no mistaking those light blue eyes, that sunny smile, that golden hair.
He was saying, “Hello. You’re right, it’s time we meet… I was just a bit unsure, you see, because…”
Arthur didn’t drop dead, but he sure as hell dropped his phone.
It’s Prince Alfred. What the fuck, it’s prince Alfred! He internally screamed, picking up his phone with shaky fingers. The phone was intact, but in his nervousness, he ended the call.
Holy shit, he thought, trying to open the app to message Prince-bloody-Alfred.
His fingers hovered the keyboard, then typed, I dropped my phone.
Prince Alfred typed back, LOL sorry? Was it my fault?
Yes, Arthur typed back, gulping, I can’t believe this. Royal shit.
Arthur only noticed the typo once his phone was vibrating nonstop with a bunch of incoming messages of laughter, and he didn’t have time at all to correct it before the next message came: God, I love your sense of humor. There’s so much I need to talk to you about. Let’s go grab a bite tonight? ;)
And by then, he didn’t want to correct the typo at all. In fact, he thanked his trembling fingers for the mistake and accepted the invitation.
He’d have a date with Prince Alfred, and he couldn’t even begin to understand how, or what even was happening. All he could think of was the fact that he had been sexting the fucking prince. And honestly, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of it.