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“What are you doing here?!”
Arthur slapped a hand over his mouth, regretting the fact that he just shouted for the whole world to hear. But how could he not conceal his shock? Alfred Freaking Jones was here. In London. During the summer. With no bodyguard around to swat away fans that could literally stampede over him in any second.
“How… how did you even get here?” Arthur asks in a strained whisper.
“Duh, Artie, can’t you see? I’m in disguise.”
The man stood behind their truck, an innocent smile on his face. Arthur couldn’t help but facepalm at the American’s ‘disguise’. Black pants, black hoodie, and shades - definitely not suspicious at all. If he wasn’t suspected to be Alfred F. Jones, the rising American actor that starred as the lead role in his first movie at just nineteen, he’d probably be seen as some lunatic who dressed in all black under the scorching hot sun.
Arthur rolled his eyes. Grabbing the young man’s arm, he pulled him inside their truck. Three pairs of eyes watched in confusion as Arthur hustled, quite with effort, a tall man inside their vendor. Before any of them can speak, Arthur instructed, “Close the shutters.”
The man nearest to them did so, reaching an arm to pull the shutters down. “What’s this all about?”
“Gee, it’s kinda… it’s kinda hot in here,” Alfred whines, fanning himself as sweat beaded on his temples.
“Of course it is, you git. Who wears all black under the summer’s sun? Are you asking to get heat exhaustion?”
“It was to dis-”
“That is not a disguise, Alfred,” Arthur chided.
Alfred takes off his aviator glasses, revealing a set of crystal blue eyes. Unveiling his hoodie, wheat-blonde hair popped out, which was gelled except for that stubborn cowlick that never seems to go down no matter how much products they put.
“But they always use these in the movies! And hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Alfred grinned his award-winning smile, and he wasn’t rude, he acknowledged the rest of the people around them. “Hiya! I’m guessing you guys are Artie’s brothers? Wow, the eyebrows are a family trait, aren’t they? I’m Alfred and- is that lemonade?!”
Arthur groaned to himself. Alfred hasn’t even stayed for less than a minute and he was already giving Arthur migraines.
“Alfred, aren’t you supposed to be in Hawaii right now?”
“Yep!”
“So why aren’t you in Hawaii?”
Alfred shrugged. “Didn’t want to go.”
“And why, may I ask? Why are you denying a deserving two-month break from show business?”
Arthur didn’t know if he was talking about Alfred or himself. Alfred taking a vacation meant Arthur could take a vacation. Does the American not know how tiring it was baby-sitting him during the entire movie shooting?
Nearly three months of taking care of this man-child led Arthur to no sleep due to Alfred’s abnormal schedule and needs, no leisure, no time for himself; but what Arthur did gain was white hair. God, the man was only twenty-three and he was already getting white hair. Luckily, he was born with pale-blonde hair; his white hair strands weren’t as noticeable.
But anyway, does Alfred not have any mercy for his poor assistant? When Arthur applied for this position, having been the most eligible, he expected Alfred to be civil, modest, and a gentleman. But the second he was introduced to Alfred, Arthur realized the young man carried none of those traits.
The Alfred that he saw in television, the charming American that everyone loved, was a lie. Alfred F. Jones was nothing but a child in a man’s body. He had Arthur running around like some nanny trying to pacify a wailing baby. It was Arthur this, Arthur that - Arthur, can you buy me a frappuccino? Arthur, can you buy me a Big Mac? Let’s watch a movie together! I’ll sleep when I want to! You can’t force me to eat that!
It drove Arthur insane.
However, he did need to give Alfred some credit…
Alfred was just nineteen; young, yet jam-packed with talent. Although his father was already a well-known business man, Alfred earned his fame through his talents. Watching the man do his career, acting, Arthur was blown away. Alfred managed to transform himself into a character for the cameras; different attitude, different voice, different demeanor - Arthur admired him regardless.
Even if the American was so goddamn annoying at some times.
“I missed my flight actually,” Alfred confessed with a shy smile, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “And I couldn’t get a hold of my secretary so… I couldn’t get a reschedule. And I didn’t want to stay in the airport either.”
Arthur sighed heavily. “Did you at least try to email her?”
“About that - I actually came here to ask you to do that for me! That’s your job, isn’t it?”
Arthur’s brothers had to hold their little brother back from pummeling the American.
x
“She just emailed me back. The earliest flight she can get is tomorrow at noon. Is that alright with you?”
“Yeah! I’ll just hang with you guys in the meantime.”
Arthur thought it was the best idea. If he sets loose a famous actor out there with no security at all, Alfred wouldn’t even last for a second.
“I’ll drop you to our house. Mum’s there right now. You’ve met here before, right? She’ll entertain you,” Arthur says, gesturing Alfred to stand up and follow him.
“Are you going to stay with me at your house?”
“No, our shift doesn’t end until six.”
Alfred shook his head. “Then I don’t want to go to your house.”
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alfred, not now.” He cannot handle Alfred's stubbornness, not under this heat.
“But I don’t wanna!” Alfred whined. “If you’re worried about me fainting then fine, I’ll change into something else.”
“Alfred, it’s not that. You can’t-”
“I wanna stay with Arthur!”
“Oh my goodness, Alfred, I am not handling your tantrums while I’m on my break.”
Arthur’s brothers sat on the sidelines, watching the pair go back and forth like mother and child. Scott, the eldest with fiery velvet hair, even scoffed a laugh, contemplating to himself about the fact that Arthur was earning hundreds per day just by baby-sitting this actor? And was it always like this between them?
“What are you going to do here even?”
“I can help!”
Arthur rose a brow, unimpressed.
“I’ll help with anything you guys need,” Alfred suggested, his face determined.
Before Arthur could retort, Scott interrupted, “There’s not that much you can help with, mate. We don’t get that many customers anyway.” And by that he means none.
“Oh… but I still want to help! I can help clean the dishes-”
“Both of us know you’ve never cleaned a single plate in your life.”
“Uhm, I can go pick lemons?”
“We’ve got a full stock of lemons; we’re good with that.”
“Anything that needs to be lifted and moved?”
Arthur blushed a little, but he thanked the gods his face was already red because of the heat. And no matter how much he wanted Alfred to lift and flex his muscles - “No, no need.”
Alfred panicked. “I can… I can help with the lemonade! I used to sell lemonade as a kid, you know. Outside our house. No one really bought now that I thought about it… probably ‘cause I didn’t know you’re supposed to dilute the juice with water. It was a little funny when they drink it though, they made this silly face and-”
“Maybe,” William, the second youngest, started, putting his hands on Alfred’s shoulders. “Maybe you can run the register; since you’re so chatty and social. You know how to handle simple Maths, right? You just take their money, count the change, and give it to them. And the currency is in pounds, boy, not dollars.”
“I can do that,” Alfred replies, turning to Arthur with a grin. “Yeah, I’ll do that!”
Another groan… oh no.
x
When the Kirkland’s Lemonade Shack opened its shutters, it definitely gained attention. Why wouldn’t it?
Alfred, no longer clad in his suspicious clothes, was now wearing a pair of red beach shorts and a white tank top that just hugged his upper body perfectly. His biceps were a sight to see; tanned, strong, and bulging. That along with the blue eyes and the all-American white smile, it was beginning to lure in customers.
At first they just hovered, checking if the handsome man standing behind the register as actually Alfred F. Jones. It didn’t take that long for them to realize it. If the pretty face wasn’t enough evidence, the purple-stained bangs and the matching star tattoo on the man’s cheek definitely confirmed their suspicions.
It started with one person, and then two, and then three, and then they were coming in hordes. Soon enough half of the people attending the festival were all lining up in front of their truck. At this point the people weren’t here for the lemonade, but for Alfred F. Jones himself.
Alfred did a good job actually. He took their orders and made sure to give them a quick, polite chat - and maybe some pictures and autographs - but whilst he did that, the Kirklands behind him were in utter chaos.
The orders have been coming back and forth non-stop. They began to regret their choice of having Alfred run the register, but at the same time, the man was earning them loads of money. Despite the fact that everything inside their truck was upside down, they managed to execute and earn.
They even ran out of lemons. Which was shocking. Arthur had to drive to the store to buy a new batch, but when Alfred heard that Arthur was leaving, like a baby chick following its mother, Alfred left his post and ran to Arthur like a crazed man. Their customers were a little displeased at Alfred’s absence, but when he returned all was well - no matter how chaotic it was. (At least Arthur got to see Alfred flex his biceps as he carried the dozens of boxes from their car to the truck.)
They decided for Alfred to help Arthur with the lemonade in order to keep the fans at ease. Some were already buying their third drink! And as Alfred helped cut the lemons in half, Arthur couldn’t help but notice how much Alfred was stealing glances at him. Even when he was doing the register, the man would turn back to look at Arthur from time to time.
Feeling self-conscious, Arthur spoke up, “What is it?”
“What is what?”
“You. You keep glancing my way,” Arthur admits, cheeks becoming warmer than usual. “Is there something wrong?”
Alfred chuckled. “No, not really. It’s just, I noticed you weren’t wearing your glasses.” Alfred wears glasses too, but he prefers to wear contacts in order to wear ‘cool shades’.
“Oh,” Arthur clears his throat. He glanced at Alfred for a second, but he turns away immediately when he sees the American staring back. “My vision isn’t as bad as you think, and I’m near-sighted so… there’s no need for me to use glasses right now.”
They were quiet for a while - if you drown out the crazy fans and his brothers yelling at each other. Arthur didn’t want to look at Alfred, knowing fully that the latter was staring at him. He could feel it, those blue eyes piercing through his skin. It made him hot, warmer than the summer heat.
“I like it. They look nice.”
Arthur gulped. He was confused. “My glasses look nice?”
“No, your eyes. Your glasses hide them too much. They’re really green, in fact, the greenest I’ve ever seen in a person.”
Arthur still refused to look at Alfred. “Oh… uh, thank you.” God, why was his heart beating so hard? “My brothers have the same eyes as me, you know.”
“No, not really. Yours are different. Yours are prettier; and they suit you perfectly.”
Now Arthur was sure his entire face was red. Even the most oblivious person would concur that Arthur was flustered by Alfred’s statements.
Arthur was going to shy a glance at Alfred, but his brother’s loud bark made both of them jump.
“Hurry up! Stop with your chit-chat and work, you bastards!”
x
After they retired for the night, Arthur concluded it was best for Alfred to check in a hotel. The latter argued at first, and attempted to convince Arthur to let him stay at their house instead.
It was too risky to bring Alfred to their small home; for one, it was very cramped since his brothers were staying as well, and second, his parents would not appreciate Alfred’s fans littering outside their doorstep.
Nevertheless, knowing the American for far too long, he would sulk inside his hotel room the entire night. Arthur imagined how it would be, and in his head it looked awfully similar to leaving a puppy alone in a cardboard box. And Arthur had a heart too, and that heart clenched at the sight of a sad, lonely Alfred.
Which left Arthur no choice but to bring Alfred to his home, smiles and grins all around. If Alfred truly resembled a puppy, his ears would be at attention and his tail would be wagging madly. He was loud during dinner, telling Arthur’s parents and brothers about his childhood and his life in America. The Kirklands listened attentively though, no matter how boisterous their guest was. Alfred seemed to have endless stories that caused their dinner to stretch for over two hours.
Only when Alfred decided to expose stories revolving around Arthur did the latter finally decide it was bedtime.
Arthur’s room was small, they weren’t a wealthy family, yet Alfred wasn’t bothered by it at all. He was unusually polite and modest for some reason, especially towards Arthur’s parents, but once they were in the Englishman’s room, Alfred made a beeline for Arthur’s bed, whining about how tired he was and demanding a body massage.
After a few scolding and a massage, Alfred and Arthur were cramped in his small twin bed. Arthur suggested to sleep on the floor whilst Alfred took the bed, but Alfred pulled the other male on the mattress with him. Knowing that Alfred would never stop until he gets what he wants, Arthur succumbed into the young man’s wishes.
And here they were, shoulder-to-shoulder on a small bed. Nothing awkward, nothing at all.
Yes. Nothing. Nada.
Arthur needed to sleep.
“You know,” Alfred begins, startling Arthur for a second. “I purposely missed my flight.”
“What?” Arthur said through gritted teeth. He turns his head to face Alfred. “And why would you do that?”
Alfred mirrors him, but instead of a scowl, a soft smile was plastered across his face. “Duh, I wanted to see you.”
And now Arthur was blushing, and he didn’t have the summer heat to blame this time.
“I missed you, a lot. Right after that party, when your contract ended, we said our goodbyes. I knew we were still going to see each other, since you already signed a contract for my next movie,” Alfred chuckled. It was these instances when Alfred acted more like an adult than a child. “But the week after, the first week without you… I felt empty. It was so quiet at my hotel, and I’d catch myself calling out to you when you weren’t even there.”
Alfred shifted, turning his body completely to his side. Next to him Arthur shuffled, his heart thundering in his chest once again.
“And if I felt depressed just from that one week, how do you think I’d do for two months without you?” Alfred asks, now with a small frown. “Hawaii may be anyone’s dream vacation, but how can I be happy when you’re not there? And no, I don’t mean needing a servant to help me with my needs/ I just need… you. My happiness is where you’re at, Arthur.”
And then there was that smile again, that goddamn smile that Arthur hated and loved so much. He hated it because it made him feel… things. God awful things yet he loved it all regardless. Alfred, just Alfred, made him smile, albeit his childish tendencies and unnecessary needs - Arthur loved it all too.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell Arthur that he felt the same way towards Alfred as well.
“Go to Hawaii with me.”
Arthur stared at him.
“I’m serious.” Alfred opened his arms, wrapping them around Arthur’s shoulders. The Englishman sputtered for a few seconds, flustered by the fact that they were so close, chest-to-chest. “Go to Hawaii with me. I’ll cover everything for you; your flights, your hotel, your food - everything.”
“Alfred-”
“Please,” Alfred begged, his expression twisting to desperation. “Arthur, please, go with me. Not as a personal assistant, not a business partner; go with me as… just Arthur. It will be our vacation together.”
Somehow Alfred had cupped Arthur’s cheek, his thumb caressing the warm skin underneath.
“Arthur? Please-”
“Idiot, who else would be crazy enough to buy you McDonalds in the middle of the night?”
Alfred's face turned to confusion and then excitement. “Is… is that a yes?”
Arthur held Alfred’s hand, leaning towards his touch with a smile. “It’s a yes.”
Alfred hugged Arthur, hard enough to force the wind out of the latter’s lungs. “Thank you,” the American murmured before nuzzling his nose against the soft hair atop Arthur's head. “Your flight’s already booked anyway.”
“Eh?” Something tells Arthur that the moment was broken.
Alfred hugged Arthur tighter, fearing he’d push him away when the former revealed him of the news. “When you emailed my secretary about rescheduling my flight. She’s smart enough to book you one as well, else I’d throw a tantrum.”
“YOU ASS!”
The American laughed as Arthur thrashed under him, trying to wiggle out from his hold.
“YOU PLANNED THIS, DIDN’T YOU?!”
More thrashing.
“Arthur,” Alfred snorted, bringing a hand to cover Arthur’s. “Shush.”
“DON’T SHUSH ME, YOU BRAT. HOW COU-”
The walls beside them thundered.
“ARTHUR, YOU BETTER SHUT YOUR MOUTH RIGHT NOW!”
Alfred broke into laughter whilst Arthur grew red in embarrassment.
The other wall thundered as well.
“YOU TOO, ALFRED! BOTH OF YOU GO TO SLEEP.”
That shut the pair up.
After a short silence, Alfred and Arthur looked at each other before laughing silently.
“We should go to sleep,” Arthur suggests, deciding to settle in Alfred’s arms. They were warm, comforting; he already found himself drowsy just by the thought of it.
“Yeah,” Alfred agrees, but he looks at Arthur with a shy look. “But, can I get a goodnight kiss first?”
“Alfred, you… you know what, fine.”
Arthur leans upward, preparing to kiss Alfred’s forehead until the latter moved, shifting his face at an angle in order to capture Arthur’s lips. It caught the Englishman off guard, but before he could react, Alfred pulls away with a smile before tucking Arthur’s head under his chin.
“Goodnight, Artie.”
Arthur swallowed, his heart once again threatening to jump out of his chest.
Or was that Alfred’s heart he was feeling?
Regardless, Arthur was lulled to sleep by it.
“Goodnight, Alfred.”
x
The Kirklands and Alfred were enjoying a good breakfast until Scott slapped the daily newspaper on their table.
“Look who made it on the first page.”
Arthur spat out the cereal in his mouth as he saw himself and Alfred on the first page of today’s newspaper. It was a snapshot of the two of them making lemonade together; with Alfred cutting the lemons and Arthur preparing the drink.
Arthur would have caused a fuss about it until he saw the look on Alfred’s face; the expression he was afraid to see.
Admiration, love, passion; it was all on Alfred’s face. Those expressions were all reserved for one person, the person in the picture: Arthur Kirkland.
“Alfred F. Jones making googly eyes at a man with strange eyebrows? Now that’s a title. Oh, I forgot to mention the angry fans outside that want your head, little brother.”
“WHAT?!”