Chapter Text
Virginia, 1960
On a hot, monday morning, Alfred, a 18-year-old, Virginian farmer, was already waiting for the guest from England. London, to be exact. He was excited to see a new face, to be honest, but he really wondered what the other was like. For sure he was used to the ongoing city life, the American was sure about that, and, that the English man’s parents had sent him over to the farm for the summer to learn what work really was. He still didn’t know how to feel about that simple fact; but he was still excited! He was simply worried that they wouldn’t get along at all.
But what was the Brit called again? Arthur, right! The son of the Kirklands, he knew that too... They had a big company, he knew some of the things they sold worldwide, but it was an absolute mystery to the young man why the Kirkland’s chose their farm, out of all the farms there were on the world!
Alfred didn’t even notice how messy he was, he had a piece of wheat in his mouth, his flannel was kind of dirty and stuffed into his pants. His sleeves were rolled up and revealed his strong, tanned arms. His sky-blue eyes and sandy blonde hair, as well as his pointed jawline made him look even better; his chest was broad and he was rather tall. He just looked strong and muscular in general. While waiting, the American had snatched a piece of wheat, chewing around on it in order to suppress the urge to smoke for now- he already had a cigarette today and he was running low on them; and only god knew when he got into town the next time.
As he saw the black car driving over to them, he gasped and grinned, glancing back at the farm; it wasn’t his, but he was still was proud of it, especially the things he did. He mostly worked on the fields and helped the other’s out once he finished his work. He didn’t really do much with the animals around here except feeding them and cleaning up the stables sometimes. As the car parked, Alfred was waiting, expecting some young man to get out of it so that Alfred could introduce himself and show him around. He couldn’t really hide the excitement he had locked up for almost a month now! He’d be spending a lot of time with Arthur since he’d show him loads of things, so he just hoped they’d get along!
Arthur, however, could hardly believe his bad luck, and if not for his dreadful case of jet-lag then he would have had more energy to spend complaining about it to his driver. As it happened, he needed to sit with his eyes closed in order to distract himself from the awful heat and his painful headache. He was usually quite good at functioning with very little sleep but being here in another time zone was disorientating for a man who until now had only travelled as far as Wales.
The Brit didn’t have much that he needed to do, being smart had made school easy and Arthur treated it as the least important thing in the world. He didn’t need to study when he was more intelligent than any of the idiots he was schooled with. Arthur had good grades, so what did it matter to his parents how he spent his time?
His parents seemed to think that he should learn a thing or two about hard work; Arthur disagreed but had been sent abroad anyway.
He found it awfully unfair to be torn away from England’s fashion and music scene to instead be forced overseas. They had been driving for hours and the only conversation partner available was his driver. Considering the man’s southern accent and Arthur’s general snobbishness he had turned his nose up at such a prospect.
The Brit didn’t need to focus in school, but he could certainly tell that every yank he’d met so far would have benefited from spending more time there.
The car stopped, and he was forced to get out. At the same time, the young American cracked a grin, feeling excitement fill his muscular body as he stared at the door, not being able to wait any longer to see that rich Brit they were going to have over for the summer. Arthur refused to wear shorts on a matter of principle and had stepped out of the black car in a suit jacket with a shirt and tie. He was regretting the collar, but he kept a straight face and looked towards Alfred.The American frowned at the odd appearance; wasn’t that Brit horribly hot in those stuffy clothes? And he was sickly pale too! The brit’s face was mostly obscured by dark sunglasses, and he gestured to Alfred with a pale hand. He didn’t look used to the sun, and clearly didn’t spend much time outside working like Alfred did if his scrawny appearance was to be trusted.
“I assume you’re here to take my bags?” He asked, taking a lollipop out of his mouth and twirling the stick between his fingers. His eyes were hidden from view, but from the way he tilted his head it was clear that he was looking down on the taller man. He didn’t pay Alfred much attention, he really just wanted to go inside.
“Erm.. no. I’m supposed to show you your room, you must be tired from travelling” he said, smiling slightly; God he looked like a dork with that little smile of his, but it suited him... it made him look cute, in a certain way- as cute as a tall, strong and tanned man could look. Alfred’s accent was strong, even worse than the driver’s one. He thought Arthur’s accent was funny, it really was, though! But he looked like a total priss, that was the only problem he had so far. “And it’s nice to meet you, my name’s Alfred. Was your flight and ride good?” he asked and extended a hand for him to shake, deciding to keep his positive attitude.
The sound of Alfred’s voice made the young man wince, as did the news that he’d be lugging his suitcase back to the house himself. He turned to look at the driver when the man got his case and a smaller bag out of the boot of the car. The guy had been paid in advice, good news for Arthur who didn’t want to learn a damn thing about the American currency. He gave the man a dismissive wave and took hold of his two bags before turning his head to face Alfred. He was tired, and his head hurt, he’d be in for a surprise when he finally stopped to pay attention to Alfred’s appearance but at the moment he was too irritated to pay him any mind.
“Quite the observation, Alfred. I’m bloody exhausted.” He grumbled at him.
God, Alfred. Such a nice name was wasted on this country bum. The way Alfred made his own name sound made Arthur cringe, it hadn’t even occurred to him that people here might fight his received pronunciation hilarious.
“There’s no need to stand around in this awful heat. I’m sure you know my name already, so how about we get a move on.” He looked to Alfred expectantly, wanting to put an end to any pointless small talk or introductions and escape this dreadful sun. What he wouldn’t do for a cigarette right now, but his hands were occupied with the stupid bags. He had no intention of shaking Alfred’s grubby hand, like hell he was touching something which milked cows and scooped horse shit.
“Well? Are we standing around all day grinning like idiots, or are you going to show me inside like you’re supposed to?”
Listening to the Brit, Alfred had frowned, not liking the way the scrawny male managed to talk down on a way bigger one. “…Yeah, fine.” he said and huffed softly, putting the piece of wheat away. “I’m surprised you have energy for being prissy if you’re that exhausted” he muttered under his breath, but really tried to be nice.
As his hand was dismissed, he gritted his teeth and took the heavier suitcase, carrying it for the Brit with ease. He was already waiting for a ‘thank you’ or something, but he somehow knew that he could wait the whole summer for that. “Huh, fine... but I gotta tell you, it’s not going to get any colder soon, it’s not even august and you’re complaining about the heat already” he said and smirked a bit, obviously teasing Arthur; but what else should he do? The Brit was just prissy and spoiled!
The Brat simply rolled his eyes and started walking with him, then looked back at him, not seeming to care much about what Alfred said at all.
“Are you strong?” he asked after a few seconds of silence, figuring that Arthur wasn’t an outdoor person at all already, so maybe Alfred could find a task where the Brit had to do lifting and carrying instead of working on the field all day.
He opened the door for Arthur and slipped out of his boots, then waited for Arthur to do the same. The furniture was made from wood and looked quite old, there were a thing or two that didn’t really match but it was comfortable, looking like a rather cosy home. “C’mon, your room is upstairs” he said and walked to the stairs, walking past the kitchen, where someone was cooking and preparing things for dinner inside already, but the woman didn’t notice Arthur nor Alfred. “We have a telephone in the hall, you can call your parents, if you want, but try to keep it short or pay it yourself” he said walked down the upper hallway with him; there were multiple, colourful rugs on the floor, some of them didn’t match either, but nobody seemed to care too much about it. The whole house smelt somewhat like hay but the smell of dinner being cooked gave it a comfortable and homely feel.
Arthur had wrinkled his nose as the two wandered inside of the mismatched home. He didn’t feel as though he owed Alfred or anyone here his immense gratitude; his parents were paying for his board! Simply renting out the spare room and even giving these people free labour.
Arthur wasn’t going to play any part in that nonsense. He had books and surely enough American currency to support him if he snuck outside for a night out.
Except a night out seemed unlikely all the way out here. No doubt Arthur would be stuck at a saloon or chugging moonshine behind an outhouse.
He hummed in response to Alfred but clearly wasn’t paying much attention to him. The place was a mess, whoever was being paid to clean really ought to get the sack.
After making their way through the house Alfred stopped in front of the last door next to a window in the hallway and opened it, showing Arthur his room.
“There you go. Go take a nap and unpack your stuff. Also, feel free to go look around in the house! Dinner’s probably ready around seven, I’ll get you for it” he said with a smile and placed the suitcase down while Arthur examined the room.
It wasn’t impressive, and it had that same smell of hay as the rest of the house. The snob didn’t say a word to Alfred, instead he walked around the room to further inspect it. Perhaps entering the room in silence was enough of a hint that he didn’t want company, but Alfred had apparently not gotten the memo. He was surprised and a fair bit annoyed that Alfred was still there, and the blond carefully removed his sunglasses before tucking them into his pocket to more effectively fix Alfred with an unimpressed scowl.
If the farmhand would stop staring then that would be perfect, but instead the young man just watched him walk around and waited patiently for a reaction of Arthur. He looked at his eyes, looked straight into them... god Arthur had such beautiful eyes... but his attitude sucked balls, and as soon as Alfred had thought about that, his eyes weren't that pretty anymore.
Huffing, Arthur decided to speak up. “Yes, I heard you. Dinner at seven.I’d rather you leave before I fell asleep though. Chop chop, run along.”
"Sure thing, I gotta go then" Alfred said and rolled his eyes, then walked away. Arthur’s rude behaviour was beginning to piss him off. How could someone look so good and have such a shit personality?! The American sighed and walked into the kitchen, joining the farmer's wife. They had a little talk and Alfred told her about the Brit, telling her what he thought of him in his honesty.
He was soon turned down with the words;"He is tired, maybe he's nice when he has more energy". The woman was more forgiving of the behaviour Alfred had told her about and simply smiled as the young man fetched a knife to help her with the food. Alfred huffed and chopped some onions and carrots, trying to get Arthur off his mind. There were only a few people on the farm; the farmer, Mr. Blair, his wife, Mrs. Blair, their two children Nancy and George, and Alfred. He wasn't one of their children but was basically treated by them as a true family member since the rest of their children had passed away during infancy.
Alfred’s parents had died long ago in an accident when he was only about eight years old before the Blairs took him in. He was very grateful for it and appreciated being taken in by the family. Alfred had once had a twin brother, but after being separated for nine years he supposed he would never reconnect with Matthew if he was still out there. It was a small community, if Matthew was nearby then Alfred and the Blairs would have known by now.
The Blairs were a diverse group, the mother was rather plump and her son took after her while her daughter was as thin as a stick. Mr Blair was a fair bit stronger, stocky in appearance unlike Alfred’s more defined muscle. All three men were protective of Nancy, not only the youngest in the family but a girl as well.
Alfred was completely lost in thoughts as he sat the table with the girl and let out a frustrated sigh as dinner was going to be ready very soon... Three hours had passed so far, and he really hoped Arthur would be in a better mood now. He really didn't know what to do if he was still that pissy. After another hour of basically doing nothing but thinking, dinner was ready, and Alfred went up to the Brit's room and knocked on it, waiting for permission to go inside.
Arthur was already awake when Alfred knocked on the door. He didn’t bother to move from his spot on the bed where he had been reading and smoking.
Arthur turned a page and settled back against the pillows. He’d taken off his jacket and tie, but besides that he’d only unbuttoned the top of his shirt to help battle the heat. It really was terrible weather, and Alfred’s promise that it would not get any better had Arthur convinced that he’d stay in his room for the entirety of his stay. He honestly didn’t know what his parents were thinking, sending him to such a backwards and awful place such as America. Everyone had a strange accent, the food was all wrong, and they were miles away from any kind of youthful night life. He doubted he’d find a bookstore anywhere near here either, and he doubted that Alfred or any of the household could actually read.
Arthur intended to stay in his room for now. Perhaps he’d venture out in the evening when it was cooler, but at the moment his best bet would to try and make his books last in the shelter of his Dingy bedroom. He just hoped that he wouldn’t start to smell like these people, but he had dabbed on some cologne in the hopes of separating himself from these rednecks who smelled of hay and the outdoors. “Come in.” He called out, sounding quite annoyed.
As Alfred got permission to get in, he opened the door and stood in the doorframe. "Dinner's ready. You comin'?" he asked and looked at the Brit, then looked at the book, squinting his eyes to see the title but he found he couldn't read it, it was just too small and far away from Alfred. "What are you reading?" he asked to satisfy his natural curiosity.
Arthur set his book down and exhaled some smoke before putting the cigarette out in an ashtray. He smirked when he caught Alfred trying to read his book. Obviously illiterate, he honestly didn’t know what his parents expected him to learn from these people.
“The picture of Dorian Gray. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it. You’re welcome to borrow it when I’m finished.” His offer came across as more of a joke than anything else, after all he didn’t expect Alfred to be able to read.
Arthur watched as the other reacted with a raised eyebrow. Alfred knew how to read, he had attended actual school when he still lived with his parents! He knew how to read and write and the basics of math, like counting, sums, subtraction, multiplication and so on as well as solving some equations. Alfred was actually the only one who could properly read and write. He soon took the smell of his cologne in when Arthur got up to join him in the doorway, and found himself wondering how he could afford such an expensive smelling thing... Alfred had saved all of his money and even got some of the Blair's money to buy himself an already used, older motorcycle… He still had about $20 debt, but he would work hard for it and get the money back in for them.
Alfred watched him put the cigarette out, wondering which ones he had... probably some extra expensive ones you’d only get in London for sure. Not the ones Alfred sometimes snatched from Mr. Blair. “Ah, I’ve really never heard of it. But I’d love to read it, actually. I only have a few books for myself, they’re pretty expensive around here so I only have three.” he said and bit his lip, feeling a bit embarrassed about the fact that he only had three books and Arthur probably had over fifty. “But I’m not illiterate, if you just said that because you want to make fun of me” he said with a forced smile and tried to calm down. "I'll show you around tomorrow and show you how to do stuff around here, alright?"
“I suppose you’d best show me to the kitchen, but there’s no need to worry about tomorrow. I won’t get in your way. You finish milking your cows and I’ll finish my little book.” Arthur replied in amusement. Alfred could hardly believe the attitude Arthur had. He carried himself with a lot of confidence despite being shorter and scrawnier than the American farmhand. Huffing, Alfred quickly shook his head.
“No way in hell. You’re gonna work here like your parents want you to, they pay us and I’m not planning on even risking to lose that money. And I don’t milk the cows” he said and shot him a glare, being obviously pissed off because of his stupid attitude. Still, Alfred was around Arthur’s age and expected to get along with him as well as show him the ropes. He just had to take a deep breath and calm down. Still, there was a tense silence between the two boys as they walked downstairs in the dining room
Arthur followed his host and sat down with a bored expression. He would certainly avoid doing any work, however he couldn’t easily get away with that if the adults were aware of his lazy intentions. Much to Alfred’s surprise he was polite to the two adults, insisting that the food smelled lovely and that they didn’t get a lot of sun where he was from so he was still getting used to it.
The kitchen was cluttered with bits and bobs varying from egg cups to tea cosies. It wasn’t particularly messy, nor could it be considered dirty. No, the kitchen was well taken care of by the mother of the household, who currently was sitting beside her husband and fussing over her children. The two were excited to meet the newest member of the household, but in Mrs Blair’s eyes that only meant that they should be on their best behaviour instead of turning to get a good look at Arthur. The family were sat around a wooden table with freshly cooked food being served in the middle and heaped onto plates.
Nancy was sat next to Arthur, while Alfred sat next to George and started eating as the other's did. He was surprised that Arthur was polite towards the two adults, but not to him; fucking hell this was pissing him off. He sighed and looked at George in a rather sceptical way but the younger teen just shrugged him off.
Mr. Blair, the stocky farmer responded that Arthur was a welcome visitor. He didn’t see Alfred’s exaggerated eye roll, but Mrs Blair whacked the young man’s arm and told him to be polite. They had a guest, afterall.
“Your pops is an old friend of mine, we’ll take good care of you don’t worry yourself.” The conversation was off to a good start, but unfortunately for his wife Mr Blair was less worried about being polite.The man had spoken to Arthur with a wide smile. “Hopefully working outside like a real red-blooded American will keep you from turning out like a spoiled lil’ princess, Huh Kirky?”
The Brit was honestly flabbergasted, amazed that the man could say something so rude with such a huge and friendly grin. He forced himself to respond with a tight-lipped smile, but he was obviously shocked by the clear disrespect.
The blonde American watched Mr. Blair talk and smirked as he heard him. "I think it's already too late to keep him from turning into a spoiled lil' princess, pops" he said with a smirk, not being able to hold that comment back. He was at least able to hold back his laughter. ‘Kirky’ was just way too funny.
While Mr Blair and George had snickered, Mrs. Blair seemed to be rather shocked by what Alfred said and crossed her arms.
"Alfred, manners! Take back what you said, you promised to be nice" she said, and Alfred groaned and rubbed his face with his hand. Why him? "Fine, fine, sorry ma" he muttered and finished eating soon.
Arthur was just as embarrassed by Mrs Blair’s input and felt his face burning red, honestly, he couldn’t believe he needed to have a middle-aged woman fight his battles for him! She was a bloody housewife! This was just degrading!
His jaw was tense as he chewed the food. He wasn’t about to talk back to the man on his first day- he did have to at least make an effort. He didn’t notice Alfred watching him, apparently taking a moment from teasing him to appreciate the rosy hue on his face.
Mr. Blair had chuckled quietly at Alfred’s response. He preferred jokes and little outbursts like that, it meant a young man respected him enough to be himself around him. If there was one thing the Farmer couldn’t stand it was two faced liars. When it comes to anything, he believed that you either ‘are or you ain’t.’ There was no time for pretending.
“Oh the boy’s Just bein’ friendly is all. No use coddling our British guest.
Alfred had mostly kept himself out of their conversations, not feeling up to talking to the princess on his left. Over dessert however the American felt his mood improve, and he decided to take a chance. He was sure he would have better luck asking for things he wanted if they had company.
"Friendly, Sure thing…. Oh yeah! I'm... going into town today, is that alright?" he asked, hoping that the farmer would let him leave.
“The City sounds like a Mighty Fine idea, Alfred. Just make sure yer back in time to get to sleep at a decent hour.” Mr Blair’s reaction was not that of someone who was annoyed with their son’s impolite behaviour. Arthur was certainly annoyed, but Alfred grinned.
“Awesome! I will, don’t worry!” he said, obviously in a better mood than earlier
Violently, the Brit pushed his food around on the plate with his fork. He was quite pissed off at Alfred and the farmer for making fun of him. He stood up abruptly and dismissed himself to his room. If Alfred thought he was going to work in the fields with him then he was wrong, Arthur had no intention of lowering himself to such an extent. Working outside would be dreadful, but it would be even worse to be stuck in a field with that insufferable yank. He stormed out of the kitchen to escape to his room where Arthur planned to indulge himself in another cigarette and a bottle of beer. Alfred had been watching as he got up abruptly. Frowning and wondering what was up with him.
“I’m not gonna question that...” he said and looked at the two adults again. “Can I go and get ready? Or do y’all need help cleaning?” he asked and looked at them with a small smile, being excited to get away for half of the night.