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“You’re never on my side, da- uh, f… father-!”
The omega blinked bashfully as his co-lead suppressed a growl, swiping the glasses off his face to massage the bridge of his nose. “Arthur, just read from the script. It’s not that hard.”
Another try. Arthur rolled his shoulders, gripped the sheet of paper in his hands and squinted down at his highlighted dialogue, eyes fluttering back up to meet the baby blues before him.
This is a funny scene, this is a funny scene…
“You’re never on my side- dad!”
A groan of frustration. Arthur pursed his lips, pretending the heat in his cheeks came from the blinding stage lights rather than the seemingly innocent line he couldn’t seem to deliver.
Alfred’s shoulders rose in a deep inhale and he dropped them in a sigh, raking his hand through his hair. “Arthur, call me daddy.”
“I- Isn’t just ‘dad’ enough? It’s hardly in my character to call you-” Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. Did the idiot alpha not get it through his thick skull? Perhaps Arthur was reading into it too much, as he tended to do- The blank look in Alfred’s eyes paired with that deadpanned request suggested his motives were far from what Arthur had spun it to be in his mind.
“It’s supposed to be a joke. A classic ‘call the pastor something besides father’ gag, it’s in your script. This isn’t one of your gross fetishes.”
The last part was muttered, but the omega sure as hell heard it. Arthur flushed a deeper red (if it were even possible), sputtering at a loss of words as those blue eyes took on a smug smirk. “Wh- I- shut up, Jones, I-”
“Let’s take it from the top,” Alfred said dismissively, the teasing grin on his face present for a rare millisecond before he snapped back into character. “Charlie, your mother’s right.”
Arthur chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes darting around the empty stage before finding their way back into Alfred’s blue eyes. It wasn’t often they practiced alone like this. The director must’ve noticed the lack of proficiency on Arthur’s part in this certain scene and asked Alfred to host a one-on-one of sorts…
If Arthur was being honest, there wouldn’t be a problem if anyone else had played the part of the pastor. Alfred’s idiocy put aside, Arthur was always seconds away from swooning at the sight of him, nothing got to him as much as that alpha did.
Alfred acting, switching between characters and pouring every bit of his heart into his performances… Alfred laughing, that deep rich voice of his that sent tingles down Arthur’s spine… Alfred eating, Alfred drinking water, Alfred breathing-
Alfred.
They hadn’t known each other all that well until recently, when they’d happened to both audition for their school play. Though Arthur would’ve appreciated landing the role alongside Alfred as the pastor’s mate rather than some delinquent child at church, he found that if it kept him close to the alpha he’d fancied since middle school, he’d be just fine.
“Your mother’s right,” Alfred repeated, firmer, a cue for Arthur’s response. Suddenly, the stage lights were brighter, the air around them hotter, Alfred was looking him in the eyes.
“You’re never on my side, d- pa!”
Alfred buried his face into his palms.
“Pa can be funny too!” Arthur argued weakly, to which he was met with a smoldering glare. He understood the alpha’s frustration. It was a week before their first show, which should’ve been lax enough had it not been for the fact that half the cast barely knew their lines. Arthur being one of the lead members, he knew being stubborn about a single dialogue was the last thing Alfred needed at this point.
“Arthur.” And suddenly those hands were on him- warm, large hands gripping his shoulders as blue eyes bore into his. Arthur bit back an audible gasp. “It’s just a word, I don’t know why you’re working yourself up over this. Say daddy.”
Alfred was right. It was a mere word. In fact, it was a word Arthur himself would call his father when he was younger, in times of extreme ass-kissery. Arthur Kirkland was in no way turned on by it.
Not turned on by the word? Yes. Turned on by the prospect of saying it to Alfred? Definitely.
Arthur shook his head, averting his eyes to gaze down at the stage floor. “Sorry, I- um, I’ll try-”
“No, let’s get this over with now.” The grip tightened, “Call me daddy.”
Arthur squirmed in Alfred’s hold, “You’re being fucking weird, Jones.”
He couldn’t, however, hold back a gasp as his chin was tilted up to meet those eyes dead on, startling blues a bit too close for the comfort of his stuttering heart. Arthur could feel it drop once before skittering off to a thundering start, and if it weren’t for the scent suppressor on his neck- well, Alfred would know just why Arthur was so ‘worked up’.
He had to know by now. There was a smirk in his eyes, something that told Arthur he wasn’t as oblivious as he seemed. “Say daddy.”
“Daddy.” Arthur squeaked out defeatedly.
The grip was released (much to his despair) and all seriousness was gone. Evaporated. That stern, heart-wrenchingly assertive Alfred was gone, leaving a beaming one in its wake. Alfred grinned and took a few steps back, allowing Arthur to witness the effortless character-change he was so famous for. “Let’s take it from the top, then. Charlie, your mother’s right.”
Arthur swallowed around the lump in his throat, shuffling about as the heat in his body subsided to the dull thrum it always sported in Alfred’s presence.
“You’re never on my side… daddy.”
A smile. “Perfect.”