Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Rocky Beginnings & Working with What you Have
“We will be flying out to Paris for fashion week tomorrow, you will then have a short two day break to do as you see fit, then we are off to New York to meet with Valentino.” Francis rattled off easily, not looking up once from his papers.
Arthur said nothing and placed his head in his hand as he looked out the window of the town car back to their hotel in Milan. Francis shuffled around beside him.
“Ah, Paris, It’s been far too long! Oh, how I’ve longed for my city.”
“We were there three weeks ago.” Arthur replied, still looking out the window.
“Yes, but you must agree it is the best city in the world.”
Arthur looked at his manager then, “It’s dirty and full of rats.”
Francis frowned, “As if London is any better!”
“I beg to differ.”
Francis bristled, “I am wounded, Arthur. Regardless, tomorrow morning as soon as we land you have a fitting with the stylists at Gucci, They have you for multiple shows during fashion week.”
Arthur nodded, watching as they pulled into their hotel and were led inside of the fanciful hotel by a few security guards and hotel staff.
The next morning, as promised, Arthur and Francis were landing in Paris where Arthur was immediately shoved into another fancy hotel and crowded around by stylists that were having him try on a menagerie of different outfits. All whilst Francis sat and watched with interest and gave his very honest opinion on what he thought Arthur looked good in and what the stylists could do better with. Although Francis’ opinions were sometimes harsh to both Arthur and the stylists, he was, in the end, a complete genius when it came to fashion and publicity. He knew exactly what Arthur looked good in and what would look good in the media.
Arthur always wondered why Francis didn’t just go into modeling himself and instead chose to act as Arthur’s manager. He certainly had the eye for so much more, but it seemed that he was more than happy to ensure that Arthur was the best product he could be instead.
Francis was likely the biggest reason that Arthur was as popular and sought out by luxury brands as he was. Francis knew how to market, how to style, and how to be sociable, and to him Arthur was the perfect moldable candidate. By the second year of Arthur’s career he was walking runways in all of the major cities in the world, quickly becoming a fan favorite in the media and for fashion week.
Of course, it wasn’t all smooth sailing as Francis also ensured that nothing Arthur did would ever become irrelevant in the media. So every once in a while there would be a scandal or a debacle that would always be solved within the week, even if, no matter how many times Arthur tried to get Francis to stop, he wouldn’t.
Now on the runway in Paris, Arthur took a deep breath just as he always did as he was given the cue to start walking. As soon as he did, he was bombarded by the flash of camera lights taking pictures of him as he strutted down the runway with a blank expression on his face. He lingered for a second at the end of the runway before heading back, only to realize that someone had jumped onto the runway and was heading right toward him.
Needless to say, Arthur was extremely confused, but had been taught to remain professional and continued walking forward at a steady pace, hoping to pass the man completely. However, the man on the stage, a large alpha man, with a determined, smarmy look on his face, had other plans.
Just as Arthur thought he could get around the man, he picked Arthur up and tossed him over his shoulder before jumping down off of the runway and racing toward the nearest exit with no regard to how many times Arthur hit him and tried to kick his way out of the alpha’s hold. Instead, with every movement, the man gripped him tighter with a bruising force, especially around his hips and thighs to the point where Arthur nearly gave up the struggle.
The show came to a grinding halt as random bystanders in the first two rows next to the catwalk started to pull at the man’s arms, as well as Arthur’s body, trying to help him.
The man continued to try and walk toward the exit of the building, but not before four large security guards caught up to him and finally forced him to put Arthur down. Francis was also in his crowd, pushing, yelling, and shoving until he reached Arthur who was sitting on the floor. All of the while the room was practically as bright as daylight with all of the cameras going off.
Francis tried to pull Arthur up, but the Brit unbuckled the shoes he was wearing and stood up himself, pushing away Francis’ help and fast walking to the nearest backstage entrance with eyes and cameras still on him. Seeing this, Francis left the scene, racing after Arthur whilst the security guards and venue operators dealt with the large alpha man.
Arthur was pacing around when Francis found him in his private dressing room, he was in various states of undress. His designer shoes were thrown into a corner as the sleek blazer was draped on the back of the chair leaving Arthur in a pair of shorts covered in chains and a white shirt that was entirely covered in chain mail.
Arthur saw Francis push his way into the room and immediately huffed, turning his head away, “Is this another one of your genius plans to keep me in the media at all times? If so, how many bloody times did I tell you that I didn’t ever want that!”
Francis stared at Arthur, “It wasn’t. No, that was real, and far too close to home, Angleterre.”
Arthur stared at Francis as if trying to figure out if he was lying or not. When the green eyed man realized that he wasn’t, he nodded slowly.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but I think it would be best to hire a bodyguard, mon ami. We’ve had a few close calls now, I fear we are going to run into actual trouble one day.” Francis stated.
Arthur wrapped his arms around himself, he could almost feel bruises forming around his rib cage and hips, he nodded, “I’m not opposed.”
Francis nodded, then took a bottle of pills out of his bag and handed it to Arthur, which the Brit took willingly, popping the cap open and taking one, then burying it under a few things in his bag.
For the rest of the week, even though Arthur insisted on doing the rest of fashion week, felt paranoid every time he walked down the runway that another crazed fan would try to kidnap him again.
Despite the horrible ordeal, Arthur was praised in various news articles for continuing to do fashion week even after what happened.
Two weeks later…
About a half hour before heading to the airport, at an ungodly hour of the morning, just outside of his flat, Arthur stood in front of a tall man with wheat blonde hair, the bluest eyes he had ever seen, and a large build. There was also a huge, blinding, smile on his face, as he stuck his hand out for Arthur to shake.
Arthur crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyeing the man that Francis had hired as his bodyguard up and down. He reluctantly shook the man’s hand.
“Nice to meet ya, I’m Alfred F. Jones. The ‘F’ stands for Freedom, before you ask.” Alfred grinned, shaking Arthur’s well manicured hands enthusiastically.
“I wasn’t going to.” Arthur replied, he looked just over his shoulder back at Francis who was looking down at some papers. Francis looked up to see Arthur’s hesitant face.
“Relax, Angleterre, he has a lot of experience, even a military background.”
“He’s awfully young, do you not think so?”
“I’m twenty-four, that’s only two years younger than you!” Alfred protested.
“You’re a child. A very muscular, overgrown child.” Arthur said, an eyebrow raised in question.
Alfred smirked, “You think I’m muscular?”
“Undeniably. Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately?”
Francis grinned and put his papers into his inner blazer pocket, “Excellent. Now that you are both acquainted, we will be flying out to LA for a photoshoot, then back to London for another shoot afterwards.”
It was only a matter of minutes before Arthur was seriously questioning Francis' choice in bodyguards. Alfred, the entire time they were driving to the airport, was lamenting all about how he had never been to the west coast before and how he was excited to try “In and out burger.”
A sentiment Arthur could absolutely not understand.
“What do you mean ‘that’s disgusting’? Nobody does burgers like America!” Alfred exclaimed, seemingly somewhat offended. Arthur crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, looking out of the window.
“Oh, is it because you have a strict diet and stuff? I always knew some models had crazy strict restrictions, but not even a burger once in a while? How do you live?”
Arthur gave Alfred a dirty look, “My diet is perfectly normal, the only difference is that I don’t eat rubbish.”
“You’ll have to excuse Arthur here, he is not a morning person.” Francis tried, fully aware that Arthur was an early bird, even if it was 4am and still dark outside.
“What are you bloody on about?” Arthur questioned, snapping his head in Francis’ direction in the front seat. Just outside, they rolled up in front of the airport, causing them all to go quiet.
“It seems like your job is about to start, Alfred.” Francis said instead, looking out the window at the crowds upon crowds of people all gathered outside of the airport terminal. Arthur’s eyes went wide in shock, he uncrossed his arms and stared out of the tinted window. Even Alfred looked a bit stunned about the mass of people bumping into the town car, all yelling Arthur’s name.
Although Arthur had doubted Alfred at first, the younger man quickly proved himself.
Despite being all fun and games initially, Alfred quickly got down to business, even going as far as to push people out of Arthur’s way in order to keep him away and out of the hands of fans outside of the airport. Furthermore, Alfred didn’t even let his guard down until they were fully boarded and settled onto the plane, with Arthur safely sitting next to the window whilst Alfred was next to him in the first class section of the plane. Just on the other side of the aisle was Francis already kicked back with a glass of champagne and a fashion magazine.
“Do you need anything?” Alfred questioned, watching as Arthur looked up in surprise as if he couldn’t believe that Alfred was talking to him.
“No, I’m alright, thank you.” Arthur answered, then cleared his throat.
“That was a pretty crazy crowd out there. Have you guys been dealing with that without a bodyguard?” Alfred asked, mostly talking to Arthur.
“Not before Paris fashion week. After that little incident we’ve been dealing with larger crowds. Francis says it has something to do with how the media portrayed it all.”
“Yeah, even I heard ‘bout that. Pretty scary stuff.” Alfred replied, then stood to help an elderly woman just behind them in economy by putting her bags in the overhead compartment. He sat back down next to Arthur with a questioning look on his face, “Was it some sort of crazy fan or something? It looked scary. There were videos about it all over Twitter.”
“Evidently, or so security and the police told us. Apparently he had been at the show for the past two days but hadn’t tried to apprehend any of the other models.”
“Oh, that is scary. Glad you’re okay.” Alfred gave a little smile, Arthur nodded and turned away from Alfred, intent on getting a few hours of sleep.
Even though they had seemingly called a truce on the plane, it didn’t account for the fact that Arthur and Alfred were two entirely opposite people in terms of personality and had numerous battles for the entirety of Arthur’s schedules in LA. Seeing as Alfred was now supposed to be around Arthur constantly, a concept that the model was not used too, meant that by the end of the week, Arthur wanted to ring Alfred’s neck.
“Can you possibly be any more annoying?” Arthur yelled, as soon as they gathered in the car to go to their next location.
“Only if you can stop being so stuck up! It’s like you have a permanent stick in your ass.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, scoffing, “Careful what you say or I’ll have Francis fire you in a heartbeat.”
“Jokes on you, we signed a contract! You’re stuck with me, Artie!” Alfred grinned.
Arthur shot him a death stare, “Do not call me that.”
“I’ll call you whatever I want, Artie .”
Arthur grit his teeth, momentarily debating on whether or not to tell the driver to pull over so he could leave Alfred on the side of the road. Instead of humoring him, Arthur remained quiet until they arrived at the studio set, which was once again littered with random fans trying to spot someone famous.
It seemed that Alfred was certainly going to be kept on his toes, especially in LA.
The times that Alfred wasn't on active bodyguarding duty, he mostly just sat around whatever shoot that Arthur was on looking extremely bored, except for the initial moments where Arthur came out wearing a new outfit, where his eyes went wide and he looked positively speechless. Arthur had to admit that even if he and Alfred did not get along, there was no way the American man didn’t find him attractive.
Arthur, now in a billowy white shirt that went down to his mid-thigh and was constricted by various leather straps that showed his figure, casually sat down in the chair on the set and went through various poses that he knew worked for him. He was fully aware of Alfred’s eyes on him, following his every move, he smirked, earning praise from the photographer who seemed to like the change in attitude.
Even as he was switched into a far less revealing outfit in the form of an oversized green suit ensemble with a tight figure hugging suit vest, Alfred still didn’t move his eyes away from Arthur.
“Alluring, no?” Francis said, coming to stand next to Alfred who had taken the liberty of standing just behind the camera man to look at the photos on the monitor as they were taken.
Alfred swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say.
“It’s okay to agree, it is his job after all.” Francis replied, taking a sip of champagne that they had complimentary on the set.
“Then yeah, he’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.”
Francis grinned, “Make sure you tell him, he needs reassurance every now and then.”
Francis then turned away from the monitor and looked over to the coordinator of the Valentino photoshoot, he smiled and moved in that direction.
“When you speak to Arthur next tell him to come find me when he is finished.” Francis finished, locking arms with the Valentino representative.
Alfred’s eyes followed them curiously, looking back to the monitor when the sound of another photo was taken. In the picture, Alfred made the realization that Arthur didn’t even look like himself anymore with all of the makeup and clothes that engulfed his body. When Alfred looked back again Arthur was being shooed into yet another outfit.
It was a couple more hours before the shoot was over, leaving Arthur to return to his normal street clothes.
“Did you like what you saw, Jones?” Arthur teased, slipping into the classy trench that Alfred was holding open for him.
Alfred cleared his throat, “What’s that supposed to mean? Also why do you need a coat in LA?”
Arthur smiled, mostly to himself, as he settled his coat over his shoulders, he ignored the second question, “It means either you just like to stare at people for fun or you liked what you were looking at, git.”
Alfred shrugged, not willing to lie to Arthur, especially after what Francis said earlier about Arthur needing reassurance, “How could I not look? You’re not exactly ugly, Arthur. Pretty much the opposite, actually.”
Arthur, shocked by Alfred’s statement, stared up at the alpha, “You think I’m attractive?”
Alfred laughed, “That’s the understatement of a century. All of those people surrounding this building are not out there for no reason, you know. You’re gorgeous.”
Arthur stopped in his tracks looking at Alfred, seemingly contemplating something, then turning on his heel and making his way to the door.
“Oh, Francis told me to tell you to find him when you were done.”
Arthur frowned, “He can meet us at the hotel, I’m exhausted.”
Arthur then started walking to the exit, making Alfred run a bit to catch up. As soon as they were outside, Alfred put a hand on Arthur’s small waist and guided them through people to the door of the car.
Alfred and Arthur settled into the car, the tension in the air around them calm for the time being. Arthur glanced at Alfred, he smiled.
“Driver, please take us to the nearest ‘In and out’ burger.” Arthur instructed, much to Alfred’s surprise.
“Wait, really?” Alfred questioned, a large smile on his face.
“Yes, really. You’ve wanted it, haven’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t expect us to actually get any.”
“Well, Francis isn’t here to say otherwise.” Arthur glanced playfully over at Alfred, before looking away quickly.
Alfred beamed, laughing, “You’re actually going to try something, right?”
“I’ll order some chips, if I must.”
“Why would you order chips at a burger place?” The American man asked sarcastically.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, “Fine, I suppose I will order ‘fries,’ Alfred.”
Alfred snickered, leaning out of the back window as they pulled up to the burger joint, where Arthur made the mistake of handing Alfred his black card and telling him to order whatever he wanted.
Although it took a few more months, Alfred and Arthur did end up learning to get along. Though, just as the first months in the symbiotic relationship, they were not without their quarrels.
“Green or black, Alfred?” Arthur questioned, standing in front of his closet in his London flat.
“Why are you asking me? Where’s Francis? Isn’t he supposed to be flying out with us?” Alfred wondered, dropping his own bag onto the floor by Arthur’s front door.
They were supposed to be at the airport in forty minutes and Arthur, whilst his bag may have been packed, was still deciding what to wear to the airport as he had explained to Alfred many times that it was ‘just as important as what I wear on a runway.’
“I’m asking you because Francis is already in Madrid visiting a friend. Now, Green or Black?”
“Green, it brings out your eyes. Put some pants on, we gotta go!” Alfred said, shoving the green jacket into Arthur’s chest. Arthur grumbled something and then slipped off his lounge shorts and put on a pair of beige corduroy pants that were on the back of his couch, “Where’s your suitcase?”
“In my room on the bed. Have you seen my sunnies?”
“Sunnies? Oh, sunglasses, yeah, they are on the table where you left them.”
Arthur raced toward them placing them on the top of his head, “Don’t get smart with me now.”
“Just stating facts, Artie.”
“Don’t call me that.” Arthur scolded, throwing his decorative designer bag over his arm, “Are you bloody ready?”
“Am I ready? What about you? Mr. Which pair of shoes makes my butt look good.” Alfred scoffed, lifting Arthur’s gigantic suitcase, then picking up his own duffle bag by the door and following Arthur out. Arthur waited for Alfred to get everything out of the apartment before locking it and walking down the rest of the hallway.
“I’ve never asked you that!” Arthur protested, holding the elevator for the American.
“You might as well have!” Alfred fought back, half-laughing.
Arthur frowned, now trying to look at his butt in the mirrored elevator. Alfred watched with amusement.
“Your butt looks fine, Artie.”
“Stop looking at my arse!”
“I thought you liked when people looked at your ass?” Alfred teased.
“I do not!”
“That’s a shame, it’s a pretty nice ass.” Alfred grinned, getting out of the elevator and walking to their waiting car, he shoved everything into the trunk and then opened the door for Arthur, who scowled at him and then climbed in.
About halfway through the drive to Heathrow, Alfred looked over at Arthur, whom he noticed was browsing the internet. The bodyguard thought nothing of it until he realized that Arthur had googled himself, Alfred frowned, putting his hand in front of Arthur’s phone.
“What are you doing?” Arthur whined. Alfred took the phone and shut it off.
“Don’t do that to yourself. You’re fine the way you are.” Alfred stated, putting Arthur’s phone into his jean pocket.
Arthur crossed his arms and looked out of the window.
“It isn’t what I said, right?” Alfred said after a second.
“Not really.” Arthur said, not looking at Alfred, “People have been saying that sort of thing since I started in this industry.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to check and see if they're right or not.”
“Yes, but if there is an issue, I should know so that I can do something about it.”
“What, like, plastic surgery?”
“God no, I’m not at that point yet.”
“Then starving yourself?”
Arthur didn’t say anything, then cleared his throat, “I don’t do that.”
Alfred sighed, “Arthur it's not good for you and it doesn’t actually do anything but slow down your metabolism.”
“Yes, I know.”
“So don’t do it.”
“Yes, but it's a quick solution if need be.”
Alfred stared at Arthur in horror, “Arthur, promise me that while I am around that you won’t do that. I don’t want you to get sick or hurt.”
Arthur looked away from the window and at Alfred, shocked at how serious the man looked.
“Seriously. Promise me, Arthur.” Alfred said, sticking his pinky finger out to the model.
Arthur sighed, “I can’t do that, Alfred. Whatever Francis says goes.”
Alfred suddenly felt the urge to sock Francis in the jaw and break his teeth.
“I’m going to say something to him then.”
“There’s no use. Don’t bother, Alfred.”
Unfortunately, Arthur was correct as almost as soon as they landed in Madrid, Francis swept them off to another photoshoot where Arthur was immediately shoved into hair and makeup and shoved into new clothes, or lack thereof, whereas Francis was talking with representatives and drinking brandy on the side of the pool.
On the other side of the pool, Arthur was on his stomach in a somewhat scandalous outfit, posing for the camera and smiling when queued. Alfred suddenly felt an insane amount of respect for Arthur and what he did in a day. All of those fights about Arthur being picky with his food and never being on time suddenly all made sense. Alfred, despite being somewhat off duty, was still allowed to sit by the poolside and watch the photoshoot, but he wasn’t relaxed, instead he was filled with an unnatural amount of resentment.
It was a little funny how much Alfred felt the need to not only physically protect Arthur from crazed crowds and unruly fans, but also metaphorically protect him from the things in his everyday life that caused him even the smallest amount of discomfort, even if it was something Arthur had dealt with by himself for years.
After the photo shoot, Alfred dragged Arthur away from Francis, the magazine big wigs, and everyone else and to the bedroom he was staying in the giant house that had been rented for the photoshoot so that he could finally put some clothes on again.
“What should I wear?” Arthur questioned as Alfred pushed him into his room.
“I don’t know? Something you won’t die of heatstroke in?”
Arthur rolled his eyes and shut the door in front of Alfred.
About twenty minutes later, Arthur came out wearing a billowy white dress shirt and a pair a white dress pants.
“Spaghetti is out of the question then.” Alfred joked, as Arthur rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, he then looked at Alfred and frowned. Arthur stepped in front of the bodyguard and opened a few buttons on Alfred’s short sleeved dress shirt and tucked in the shirt to Alfred’s shorts, making sure to pull a bit out so that it didn’t look silly.
“Better. Alright, where are you taking me? And did Francis approve?”
“Who cares what Francis thinks, let’s go to dinner or something.” Alfred said, pulling Arthur along with him back out of the hallway and past the pool courtyard.
Arthur frowned, looking over to the pool where Francis was standing with two beautiful omega women on either side of his pool chair, then allowed Alfred to grab his hand and pull him along.
Alfred, having never been to Madrid before, had no idea where he was going, but was more than happy to stop at the first place that looked like it could have good food, but was out of the way enough so that nobody could recognise Arthur.
“What exactly are we doing?” Arthur inquired, as Alfred held up two fingers to the hostess of the nearest restaurant.
“I’m taking you to dinner, since I know for a fact you haven’t had anything since I dropped you off at your apartment yesterday night.”
Arthur stared at Alfred, figuring that there was no way he could outrun him, so he sighed and allowed the hostess to lead him and Alfred to a secluded spot in the restaurant.
“Order whatever, it's on me tonight.”
“Alfred you don’t have to.”
“I want to, just order what looks good.”
Arthur nodded slowly, saying what he wanted to the waiter when he came around, whilst Alfred rattled off a whole slew of things including a bottle of prosecco.
“A salad isn’t enough, Artie.” Alfred said, shoveling a heap of the seafood dish onto another plate for Arthur and set it in front of him.
“I don’t understand how you can eat so much, Alfred. This is an absurd amount of food.”
“I’m a big boy, I have a lot of room to store it.” Alfred joked, making Arthur crack a smile as he picked at his spinach salad, momentarily pausing to choose a shrimp from the seafood dish Alfred had just plopped in front of him. Alfred smiled when Arthur popped the shrimp into his mouth then went for another piece, completely forgoing the salad.
“So, how long has Francis been your manager? Just out of curiosity.”
“A few years, maybe six now? Since the very beginning of my career.” Arthur answered, reaching for the flute of prosecco that Alfred had poured him.
“That’s a long time. How’d you meet?”
“University. I was originally going for a writing major, but Francis told me I could easily make it in the modeling business. He pulled a few strings and before I knew it I was dropping out of Uni and walking runways.” Arthur shrugged.
“Writing and modeling are, like, the complete opposite. But you kinda seem like a more introverted person to me than an extrovert.”
“You’re right about that, but I suppose this work isn’t all horrible. I really do enjoy fashion and the pay isn’t half bad.” Arthur grinned deadpan, making Alfred smile.
“I gathered that.” Alfred smiled, motioning to the clothes that Arthur had picked out.
“Enough of me, you’re a little young to be a seasoned bodyguard, are you not?”
Alfred shrugged, “Maybe a little, but I know what I’m doing. I joined the military straight out of high school. A guy I was close to that was in the same division as me said that he used to be a bodyguard for Kiku Honda, who I was a huge fan of at the time, and said he could get me a job. I realized I really liked being able to help people, even if it wasn’t Kiku Honda.”
“Who is Kiku Honda again?”
“Only, like, the most amazing Japanese movie director of all time!” Alfred enthused, “He just did the recent Godzilla series and it was a million times better than any of the previous ones.”
“Oh, yes, him. I believe I met him at Tokyo fashion week a few years ago.” Arthur said casually, poking his fork into more shrimp, he looked up when Alfred didn’t reply, “Is everything alright?”
“You met Kiku Honda?” Alfred questioned, eyes wide.
“Yes, he sat front row for the Givenchy show.”
“Oh my god, I’m so jealous of you right now, Arthur.” Alfred whined childishly, making Arthur laugh, which made Alfred look at Arthur.
“You’ll meet a lot of different people in this business, perhaps we’ll run into him again next time we’re in Tokyo.”
“Oh man, I hope so.” Alfred smiled, happy to watch Arthur contentedly eat.
As dinner started to come to a close, Alfred frowned, noticing that Arthur had suddenly gone very quiet, “What’s wrong?”
“I suppose we’ll have to go back to the house right away…”
“We don’t have to. What if we just took a walk instead?” Alfred said, tipping the waiter.
“It’s dark out…”
“So? I’m your bodyguard, ain’t I?” Alfred said, standing from his seat and helping Arthur up from his even if it wasn’t necessary.
“I suppose so.” Arthur agreed. Alfred smiled, placed a hand on the small of Arthur’s back and thanked the restaurant hostess as they left the establishment.
Still not having any idea where they were going, Alfred led them toward what looked like the town's square with lights lit up and people singing and dancing.
“Hey look, a little festival!” Alfred smiled, watching from outside of the circle as people dance with one another. Behind them were stalls full of candy and different foods and nick nacks for people to buy. Alfred looked over at Arthur who was interested in the couples that were dancing with each other, laughing and singing, “Wanna dance?”
“What? No, of course not!”
Alfred smiled, took Arthur’s hand in his own and pulled him onto the dance floor, that was really only a square of cobblestone that just so happened to be the smoothest for people to dance on. Alfred easily pulled Arthur close to him, holding his waist and hand and leading them in easy circles, simply following what everyone else was doing.
Arthur, who was initially scandalized, laughed when Alfred accidentally bumped into someone.
“You’re terrible at this.” Arthur laughed as Alfred twirled him under his arm.
“I’ve never done it before.” Alfred grinned, pulling Arthur back into his arms, then dipping him in the middle of the song, completely out of turn.
Even though the dance was less than phenomenal, Arthur can safely say it was one of the best evenings he had ever had in his life. Alfred made Arthur feel like he was more than a product being sold to the masses, instead like he was an individual worthy of deserving a break, some fun, and possibly even love.
Arthur laughed when Alfred put their foreheads together as they danced slowly together. When Arthur opened his eyes to look at the American, Alfred looked cross eyed behind his glasses which caused Arthur to tilt his head back with laughter. When the music slowed down even more, they were left to sway together, with Arthur’s head on Alfred’s shoulder.
“This was fun.” Alfred said. He could feel Arthur nod on his shoulder.
“Thank you.” Arthur replied, moving his head from Alfred’s shoulder.
“For what?” Alfred questioned, moving them around in a slow circle, careful not to bump into other people this time.
“Dinner and this, it’s been lovely.” Arthur said softly, “I’ve never actually explored the places that I’ve traveled to before.”
“Seriously? We’re definitely gonna have to change that.” Alfred smiled, his hand running up and down Arthur’s back.
Arthur nodded, then paused in his tracks, he stared straight ahead of him at the clock tower in the middle of the square. He pulled out of Alfred’s arms.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“It’s eight already.” Arthur replied, “We should go.”
“What? Already? It’s not like you’re going to turn into a pumpkin or anything.”
“I wouldn’t be too certain.” Arthur joked, but there was little humour in his voice, taking off back the way they came with Alfred hot on his heels.
“Do you think Francis is going to be mad or something?”
“Most likely.”
Alfred nodded, still concerned as he followed Arthur back to the mansion at the top of the hill. After they arrived back at the house, Arthur instantly disappeared into his room, leaving Alfred to go to his own room next door, with a hint of disappointment at the loss of Arthur’s presence.
There were similar moments like that one that Arthur and Alfred continued to share every once in a while throughout their time in Spain as well as the other few countries that Francis has booked for photoshoots. So many nights there was usually enough tension between them to cut with a knife.