Summary: Reality-show host Arthur Kirkland doesn't understand how the talentless American singer managed to survive until the final round, but it seems that Alfred Jones has a surprise in store for him.

Pairing: USUK!

Emma = Belgium

Rahul = India

From his judge's perch near the stage, Arthur took a sip of water and turned to face the cameras, ready to begin filming. This season had been worse than most, thanks to one particularly aggravating contestant named Alfred F. Jones, and Arthur was more than ready to be done. He saw the countdown, cuing him to give the opening spiel.

"Ladies and gents, welcome back to the final round of 'Xtreme Talent: International Edition,'" he said.

He didn't smile as the opening theme played, but no one really expected him to. The 'mean judge' on any talent show was required to be a curmudgeon, and Arthur always played to type. It helped that it matched his normal personality. He also threw in a dash of sassy gay judge, because that was also his type.

"I'm your host, Arthur Kirkland, once again bemoaning the atrocious spelling of the American producers. Joining me tonight are Emma Peeters, a judge from the Eurovision Song Contest, which is tragically stacked against the U.K., and Rahul Mishra, a Bollywood song producer."

"Oh, Arthur. Are you ever going to give that up?" Emma asked. She smiled at the camera from her middle spot on the judge's bench. She was the kind judge, the one who could find at least one thing she liked about every contestant and every performance, even if it was just his or her enthusiasm.

"Never. And I think the U.K. has an excellent chance this year."

"I meant the spelling part," Emma teased.

"Well, 'Xtreme Talent' is ridiculous. The show should be 'Exemplary Talent,' and it was better when it was British."

"Worse teeth though," Rahul joked. The final judge was the funny one. He usually gave tips on costumes and choreography. He winked and flashed a sparkling white grin.

The audience laughed, Arthur scowled, and the show continued on as normal.

Before each contestant took the stage for their final performance, the directors showed a short video covering the highlights of the contestant's 10-week journey through the show. Arthur sat back in his seat and grimaced as the clip for Alfred F. Jones began to play. He didn't need a video to remind him of the American, each of their encounters was already perfectly branded in his brain.

It had gone poorly from the very beginning, when the producers, being American, decided that a "Disney theme night" was the right way to start the show. Arthur thought it was a hackneyed plan. Alfred, of course, loved the idea. With his broad, gleaming smile and handsome physique, he sang "I Can Go The Distance" from Hercules as his first song. A perfectly immodest choice for a completely immodest young man. But the fans loved him, no matter how vociferously Arthur critiqued his performances. In fact, sometimes it seemed that they loved Alfred even more when Arthur was particularly harsh.

As an homage to Arthur's snarky style, the video on the center screen replayed some of his finest insults:

"Well, 'Hercules,' if your lifeguard skills are as terrible as your singing, a lot of people must drown on your beach. Of course, if you sang while you tried to save them, the drowning would probably come as a relief."

"Someone should call PETA, it sounded like you were strangling a cat."

"Let me put this in terms you'll understand. Watching that performance was a bit like ordering a hamburger and only getting the bun."

Each time, Alfred just smiled at him and laughed. That was the most aggravating part! The other contestants either responded to his advice or got angry, they didn't chuckle like it was a joke. Like he could sense that Arthur was being extra mean to compensate for his instant physical attraction to the handsome American. Stupid sexy American with his sparkling eyes and nice smile and gorgeous body and on-air admission that he swung both ways. Arthur refused to let any of it influence him.

Instead the Englishman kept giving Alfred low scores on his performances, hoping to boot him from the show, but Alfred was the audience favorite and their votes saved him week after week. And Alfred played his role perfectly to win their votes. He picked love songs each week and sang them directly at the cameras so that his fangirls and fanboys would rush to the phones and text their support. The other contestants branched out into different genres, but Alfred stuck with the Disney love-song theme. Arthur didn't even realize that there was a Cinderella III or a Lion King II or some other mass-produced dreck designed to bring in money and votes for Alfred.

As the video shifted to behind-the-scenes interactions, Arthur nearly groaned when he saw one of his most embarrassing moments with Alfred begin to play on the screen. He hadn't even realized that someone was filming them as they grabbed sandwiches in the green room after a show!

"They're only voting for you because you have a great body," Arthur grumbled, glaring at Alfred over the American's heaping sandwich.

"Do you really think so?"

"It's certainly not your singing talent."

Alfred grinned. "No, I mean, do you really think I've got a great body?"

Arthur's normal wit escaped him. He huffed and rose to his feet. "That's not what I meant!" he protested, even though it was true. He escaped the room as quickly as he could, but not soon enough to avoid Alfred's parting comment.

"Hey, if I told you that you had a great body, would you hold it against me?" the American called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Arthur could hear the audience tittering, but he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the screen. The clip continued to show Alfred's face after their encounter. To Arthur's surprise, the American's shit-eating grin softened into a genuine smile. Could it be...? Where had that look of fondness come from and why hadn't Arthur noticed it before?

It seemed that there was a lot that he had missed. The person who put together the video had found every furtive glance between Arthur and Alfred, every sigh that hinted at unspoken feelings, and every secret smile. Arthur was glad his thick stage makeup hid a blush. He wondered how he could have missed the signs for so very long.

Finally the video shifted to interviews with Alfred as he prepared his last song and performance. Arthur watched with avid interest, while pretending he wasn't interested at all. He thought that Alfred had spent the past 10 weeks trying to annoy him, but now he wondered if the young man wasn't actually trying to impress him. Their past encounters took on a new, promising complexion as Arthur ran through them in his end.

"There's something I've been working up to for these past few weeks," Alfred explained on the screen with his trademark 100-watt grin. "Because there's a reason that I've always wanted to be on this show, and it's too good of a chance to pass up." He actually looked a little bashful near the end of the clip. "I hope he likes it," was his final cryptic statement.

The stage lights brightened, and the crowd cheered as Alfred took the stage. The American looked stunning in a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and pressed trousers. The clothing hugged his body tightly enough to hint at the muscles underneath. (Since Arthur had seen Alfred occasionally help stagehands carry props around backstage, he could confirm that the young man did indeed have excellent musculature.)

Arthur recognized the opening notes to the love song from Hercules and grudgingly admitted that it was a suitable choice to bring Alfred's performances full circle. But he gulped, shocked as the American began to sing. Alfred actually had been listening to his comments about pitch, tone, and tempo! And instead of facing the cameras, Alfred was looking directly at Arthur as he crooned the song beautifully. The sparkle in his gaze and the tremble in his voice was turning Arthur's insides to mush. The Brit barely noticed the backup singers, his gaze was so focused on Alfred, and Alfred alone. The song enthralled Arthur so completely that he didn't even noticed when it ended.

There was a moment of silence after Alfred finished. Arthur was supposed to be the first one to give his comments, but his own thoughts were a jumble.

"Bravo!" Emma filled the silence as she congratulated Alfred. "That was lovely. And let me just say," she added with her characteristic cat-smile, "that making Arthur speechless takes extreme talent."

"Your costume is wonderful. Dressing up was definitely a good choice. And I liked the backup dancers, but thought you could use a few more," Rahul said.

"I don't think the rules even allow backup dancers," Arthur said, finally finding his voice. He mentally kicked himself as he saw Alfred's smile slowly fade to a plastic grin. Somehow, without even noticing it, he had become an excellent judge of Alfred's fake smiles compared to the genuine ones. He much preferred the real ones.

"Don't you have anything else to say?" Emma asked.

Arthur cleared his throat as the other judges looked at him expectantly. "It was flashy and clichéd, you still need to work on your sharps, I think that the dancers' toga costumes are ridiculous, and as for the song choice... well, I'm afraid I can't say it on daytime television without getting complaints, so I'm just going to have to tell you backstage."

Alfred grinned and nodded. He ended up placing second, but spent the rest of the show looking like he had won the greatest prize in the world.

Omake!

One hour later...

"Does anyone know why the green room is locked?" a stagehand asked.

Emma smiled to herself. "I have two guesses, and they both start with the letter A," she whispered to Rahul.

Hope you enjoyed! :)