"Alfred! Wait up!"

Fixing his usual smile in place, the tall blond turned and waved at the approaching girl. "Hey, Alice!"

She smiled, a bit shy, and somewhat nervously fidgeted with the end of one long blond ponytail. "How are you?"

"I'm great. You?"

"All right. I, um, wanted to give you these…" A blush colored her cheeks and she rummaged through her messenger bag for a few moments before offering a white envelope with his name on it, along with a small red box decorated with a ribbon. "I hope you like cherries…"

"Wow, thanks! Yeah, cherries are great!" He grinned at her as he took the envelope and box, knowing the card would wish him a happy birthday.

Alice looked surprised but pleased by his enthusiasm. "Really…?"

"Dude, cherries are my favorite. Are these those chocolate covered ones with all the syrup inside?"

She nodded.

"These are the best! Thanks!"

"You're welcome." She was blushing furiously now, and Alfred had to admit it was cute, but she was Arthur's little sister and even though he knew she'd had a crush on him for ages, he'd never seen her in a romantic light. Arthur was his best friend and Alfred saw Alice as a small step short of being his own sister.

"Man, I wanna eat these right now but I gotta go to practice. But I'll see you later, kay?"

Smiling and still a little pink in the face, Alice nodded. "Bye, Alfred."

Waving again, the blue-eyed blond turned and walked away, heading towards his car as before. He'd stopped to pick up Arthur and drive them both to practice at the high school, and Alice had caught him on his way back from the front door of the Kirkland house. Practice would consume the next couple hours of his life, after which he meant to spend the day hanging out with Arthur playing videogames and eating the chocolate cherries Alice had just given him.

The moment he slid into the driver's seat of his car, Arthur gave him a sly grin. "She got up earlier than I did so she could look pretty to give you that."

"Why don't you do anything to discourage her? You know as well as I do that it's never going to happen."

"Cause it's bloody funny to see her get all red every time you come over. Now drive, or we'll be late."

Alfred didn't bother responding to that and silently drove the short couple of minutes from Arthur's house to the school. Several other cars were already in the parking lot, and Alfred parked quickly so they could join the other stragglers. A lot of the guys grumbled about summer practice even though the work outs got a lot easier once school started, and they enjoyed competing during meets. But Alfred looked forward to those few hours of having to think about nothing but running faster, striding farther, controlling his breathing and making sure he did better than the other guy. Sports had always been a favorite pastime for the tall American.

Most of his teammates were already there when he reached the locker room, and Alfred couldn't help but let his gaze wander to one corner of the room, where his locker was.

Broad, pale shoulders above a muscular back, strong legs, black boxer briefs over an ass that was damn well near perfect. Toned thighs and calves below that, and Alfred had seen with his own eyes that the front of that man's body was just as sexy as the back.

Was his mouth watering? Oops.

Forcing his gaze away from his changing teammate Alfred went to his own locker. He smiled and nodded in greeting to those he passed on his way. Arthur's locker was right next to his own, and nearby were Matthew, Antonio and several others. And him, of course. He was there to get an early start on football training, had helped the school's team make it to State for the last three years. They were both seniors now; this would be their last year together, ever, since they wouldn't be attending the same college. It made Alfred sad to think he wouldn't see him any more after they graduated, but at least they would have basketball and track together.

Because he knows you exist now. Idiot.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. Of course the other athlete knew he existed, and knew his name, since they'd been on the same sports teams and in similar classes since junior high, but they'd never really been friends. They'd tried, but Alfred had been attracted to him from the start and made a bumbling idiot of himself whenever his nerves got the best of him, which was just about every time those eyes even glanced in his direction.

Luckily for him, he was usually too caught up in his own work outs to be distracted by the larger male across the room.

Hurriedly, Alfred changed out of his regular clothes and into his uniform, comfortable in athletic shorts, sweat pants and an oversized hoody—they helped to trap in the heat to make exercise more efficient at burning calories and building muscle—then headed out to the practice field. Being early July, it was still a little chilly out, so he wasn't exactly appreciative of his sweats, and neither were the others. It was just merciful that their coach would let them strip down to shorts if it got hot enough.

He used the distance to the field to jog in order to start warming up his muscles. The team warm ups would be easier that way.

"Three laps, guys!" their coach, a man with messy, wind-tousled brown hair and an easy grin, yelled once the team had gathered at one end of the field. "Let's go! Conditioning's half the battle! Time to buckle down and get ready for some meets!"

It was all the encouragement they needed and within moments the boys were jogging the track in a loose bunch. Alfred could easily have taken the lead and kept it for the entire three laps, but he wanted to save his strength so he found a place somewhere in the middle of the group and settled into a nice easy stride. They'd already completed the first lap and were a fourth of the way into their second by the time he noticed who was jogging just next to him.

Oh my god. Don't stare. Damn he's huge. Don't stare! Eyes forward, Jones!

Maybe he should say something. Just hi. Ask how he was. Something lame and boring and ugh why was this so hard? Why did he have to have a crush on the same guy all these years and still not have the courage to even try to talk to him? He was smart, and strong, and handsome! He should be able to handle something as stupid as a crush!

If only it were that easy.

Besides, they were in practice and talking during warm ups wasn't something Coach tolerated. The man was friendly and funny if not a bit awkward at times—he was uncomfortably open about some things—but he was very serious about behaving during practice and having a conversation when he should be focused on running would probably earn Alfred extra laps. Not that he minded running. Cross Country was his love and joy and he was used to running ten or more miles at seven am on a Saturday during the fall, spring and summer. Winter was basketball to keep him in shape, and he was good at that, too, if he did say so himself.

Once the three laps had been completed, the teens spread out over a section of the track and set about their stretches, keeping their own counts and going their own pace because they were too old to need a leader to count them through. Alfred picked a place next to Arthur and grinned at the shorter blond.

"Winded already, Kirkland?" he teased, because the Brit was slightly red in the cheeks and he was breathing a bit harder than normal. They were allowed to talk during stretches as long as they didn't get distracted and slack off

"Serious athletes stretch seriously," was Coach's favorite line.

"Shut up, Jones," Arthur growled, rolling his green eyes in pretend annoyance. This was their usual routine, and it would continue throughout practice whenever they got near each other.

"Is three laps too much for you?"

"You're a git."

"You love me anyway. In a completely platonic, bromantic sense."

"Oh, shove off."

Alfred chuckled, and lowered himself from his last lunge stretch onto the rubber of the track to complete the second half of his stretches. Hurdle, spinal twist, butterfly, calves, then partner stretches with Arthur, which meant he had to get up again, but by that time he was finished, and when Arthur's turn was done, most of the team was ready to move on, too.

"Jones!" Their coach strode towards him, whistle glistening in the sunlight against his black jacket and a clipboard under his arm. "Agilities. Six—you pick 'em."

"You got it, Coach!" Alfred was proud to be put in charge. "Line up, dudes!"

His teammates shuffled into two sort-of-straight lines at one end of the high jump pit, with Alfred at the head of one and him leading the other.

Don't get distracted.

"High knees!" he called loud enough for those in the back to hear, then started to move across the pit, jogging but with his knees jerking up almost as high as his chest. With an even space between each pair, the rest of his teammates followed, lined up, and went back in the same fashion.

"Butt kicks!" If it had been muddy, he'd have had shoe prints on his own ass.

Karaokes, straight legs, windmills, and caterpillars left the boys a little out of breath but sufficiently warmed up and sweating slightly under their uniforms.

"All done, Coach!" The blond beamed, hands on his hips as he looked around at his teammates with more than a little pride.

"Good. Ivan, Coach Ox is waiting for you over by the goalpost. The rest of you, with me."

Alfred was careful to be discreet as he watched him walk away towards the goal post where the football coach stood waiting. He was barely going to see him now that he'd split off from the group.

"Oi," a whispered voice accompanied a jab to his ribs and the American jumped slightly, blushing to be caught, "you're making that sad puppy face again." It was Arthur, and he clearly knew who Alfred had been looking at. Of course, he'd known about the taller blond's crush since almost the moment it first began.

"Sorry," the bespectacled blond muttered, following after the rest of the team as Coach led them to where the first part of their workout would take place.

"Why don't you just talk to him?"

"Are you crazy? Like he'd be interested in me."

"Why wouldn't he be?"

"'Cause he's….and I'm…." Alfred sighed in frustration. He didn't want to say the other student was handsome and sexy and mysterious and athletic and smart and oh god that accent because he didn't want to sound like some lovesick preteen, even if that was exactly how he felt. "We're graduating in May and then I'll never see him again. What's the point?"

"You'd stop being such a miserable bloody git all the time and my sister would stop pining after you."

"Fair enough."

But Coach was starting to explain their workout so both blonds fell silent in order to pay attention and not earn themselves extra running. Still, Alfred had a harder time focusing than usual as practice went on. His comment about graduating soon hadn't been an exaggeration, and Arthur had told him enough times over the years that he should just come right out and talk to him. Alfred had just never been brave enough to do it even when he did have the chance. It wasn't like they'd ever really been alone together. Arthur was determined, though, and gave him pointed looks throughout the practice.

"I bet he's got a card for you in his bag, mate," he whispered as they walked back into the locker room after finishing their workout—he was already in the corner at his locker. "Just give him a chance to give it to you."

There was no denying that Alfred wanted a card from the other student, but he hadn't really put much hope into that. He'd always bought cards for him, but always chickened out giving it to him directly and simply stuck them in his locker when the taller male wasn't around. He was worse than those lovesick girls in cliché cartoons and movies.

"No. Just shower so we can get out of here."

More than ready to talk about something else, Alfred turned his back on Arthur and gathered his shower things from the locker. Flip flops, soap, shampoo, and a towel accompanied him across the room to where the shower stalls were lined up. After travelling to other schools for sporting events and finding showers without separate stalls or even curtains, Alfred was more than appreciative of the way his school's locker room was designed. Not only were the stalls individual, they weren't cramped, and each came with a small changing room as well, and a little bench where they could leave their things.

So he stripped naked, put on his flip flops, left his discarded clothes on the bench, and cranked on the water. It was steaming in just a few moments, and he stepped under it with a grin. Oh, yeah, that was perfect. Nothing like a hot shower to keep the muscles from getting sore after a tough workout. Soon he was drenched from head to toe. He turned and lathered shampoo into his hair, found his bar of soap and scrubbed every bit of sun-kissed skin. By the time he was finished and was rinsing off, he smelled like his favorite Axe.

"Alfred."

The sound of his name made the blue-eyed blond freeze. No way. No way. But that accent was unmistakable. It was him.

"U-um," he cleared his throat, "yeah?"

"I have birthday gift for you."

Shit, was he hyperventilating? Yup.

Okay, Al, calm down. It's just the guy you've had a secret hard-on for for years. No big deal. Stay cool. You got this. You're team captain. Deep breaths, dude.

"Oh, thanks! I'm not done yet, so you can leave it by my locker." He cringed, hoping he didn't sound too casual or flippant. The fact that he had bothered to get him a gift and bring it to practice had Alfred's heart pounding.

The dressing room curtain rustled, making Alfred turn his head slightly, but without his glasses he couldn't see anything but the curtain separating the shower from the little changing room, and even the curtain was blurry despite being only a foot away. A quiet creak soon followed the rustling. What was going on out there? Ah, he'd find out soon enough. For now, he needed to finish rinsing the bubbles out of his hair.

Once he was sure he'd washed away every trace of sweat and dirt and soap, he pushed his hair back out of his eyes and cranked the faucet until the water turned off. No sounds from the locker room reached him, so everyone else must have been gone already. Arthur was probably waiting by the car, arms crossed and frowning under the late morning sun because he was impatient to leave. The thought made Alfred chuckle, and he shook his head as he reached past the curtain for his towel.

A hand gripped his wrist, too large to Arthur's trying to scare him, to rough-palmed to be any of the guys he usually joked around with on the team.

Oh my god. Oh my god, what's he doing? Why is he in my shower stall? Fuck, he scared me.

This time it was the shower curtain that rattled and rustled as it was pushed open, and Al was too shocked to bother turning away or to shield himself from view. It was him, as he'd known it was from the size and grip of the hand that still had hold of him.

"I-Ivan…what're…uh…what're you doing?"

"Giving you your birthday gift."

Alfred was meek under that gaze. "I said you could leave it by my locker…"

"It is not that kind of gift."

"O-oh." Fuck, what was he supposed to do?! He was buck ass naked in a tiny little shower stall, cornered by a Russian who was a whole head taller than him and decidedly stronger, not to mention Ivan was only wearing a clean pair of boxer briefs—red this time—and was holding onto his wrist. Even if the difference in size hadn't been a problem, the doorway was so narrow that there was no way he'd be able to push past him.

Ivan remained silent, merely looked at him. The grip on his wrist was firm but wasn't painful; he'd probably be able to twist out of it if he wanted. But he was frozen, held still by the way those weird violet eyes were looking at him. They bored into his own blue eyes, impossible to read. He could barely make out the taller teen's expression, but he could tell when those eyes started to move down, slowly wandering over his body. Examining him. Alfred would have cringed if he could have moved. He'd never felt so shy about his own body before. He was tall and strong and handsome, so why did he suddenly feel like an ugly little weakling?

There was so much heat in Ivan's gaze that Alfred was actually starting to feel warm, and it wasn't because of the hot shower he'd just taken.

Wait…he was…oh, fuck.

Not now! Body, stop that! He's not even—holy hell he smells good…fuck look at him, he's gorgeous…no, no, no! No boners! This is serious! Get a fucking grip, Alfred!

So maybe he'd had a few fantasies like this, that didn't mean he was prepared to experience them! But god damn it he was already getting hard just from being this close to the guy, and Ivan hadn't even done anything to him!

I'm pathetic. He's gonna think I'm a whore.

Unsurprisingly, Ivan's attention had landed exactly where Alfred didn't want it. Well, he did, but not like this. Not when he was unprepared and couldn't speak past the nervous lump in his throat.

"Alfred."

The first time he opened his mouth to respond, the only thing that came out was an embarrassing squeak that made him blush darkly as he cleared his throat three or four times. "Erm…yeah?"

"You are hard."

Yeah, no shit.

His sarcasm remained locked in his head and Alfred merely nodded.

"My fault?" Ivan asked, not sounding even remotely surprised or guilty or apologetic.

"Well, yeah, but, how did you…?" He meant to ask how the Russian knew that he had this kind of effect on Al, but that would have been totally pointless. Of course he knew. Everyone knew. Alfred drooled just looking at him. Ivan would have to be a complete idiot not to have figured it out.

"Your friend, Arthur, he says you like me."

Fucking traitor!

"He says I should…ah…" an almost embarrassed look came onto the Russian's face, "put Alfred out of his misery."

What the hell was that supposed to mean.

"I don't know what he's talking about," Alfred lied, twisting his arm out of Ivan's grip. "He's just screwing around, dude. Probably trying to play a trick on me or something. So, uh, if you'll let me out…"

"Нет." Both of Ivan's arms shot out, slamming against the shower wall to either side of Alfred's head and trapping the startled American between them. "Not until Alfred explains."

Jesus, his heart was gonna bust a couple of ribs if it beat any harder. "I-Ivan…"

"Explain. What misery?"

This couldn't be happening. Not now, not to him, not while he was naked and soaked from his shower and god why did Ivan have to look at him with concern and determination and smell so damn good?

"I-I…I like you, okay?" Alfred admitted defensively, glaring back at the taller male who was making him so weak in the knees. "I like you a lot. I have for years. Now will you move so I can dry off and get dressed?"

Slowly, a grin that made the blond shiver spread over Ivan's features. "Нет."

"Why not?" he almost shouted, his frustration building because he was hard and embarrassed and he couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss the man standing before him or if he wanted to punch the grin right off Ivan's handsome fucking face.

"I still have to give Alfred his gift."

"Then just give it to me already!"

That was probably the wrong thing to say. Alfred barely had a chance to blink before Ivan's hands were on his shoulders instead of the wall and he was roughly turned around. The white painted-over stone was rough and cool against his skin when his shoulders were shoved forward; a hand grabbed his hip and pulled, forcing his stomach to arch.

"What the hell are you doing?!" He meant to sound angry and demanding, but it didn't come out that way. He sounded panicked. "Ivan!"

The Russian didn't answer, merely rubbed the hip in his grasp and put his mouth by Alfred's ear. Hot breath made the blond shiver and he clenched his jaw when he felt more blood rushing to his groin. He'd never been this turned on without actual touching in his life.

"I-Ivan…"

"Да?"

Fuck that accent and fuck his deep sexy voice and everything else that was so damn attractive about the bastard. Now what was he supposed to do? He could demand that the larger male get out and be left to deal with his hard-on by himself, but that would be passing up a chance at Ivan, and he'd been dreaming about this sort of thing for too long to not regret missing an opportunity. Then again, he wasn't sure if he was ready for what seemed about to happen.

"I…I don't…" he trailed off, embarrassed and not sure how to say it. Ivan didn't press him, merely continued to rub his hip and waited in patient silence. Eventually, Alfred worked up his nerve enough to continue. "I've never done this before."

"Done what?" Ivan began leaving soft kisses along the top of Al's shoulder and up his neck. Back and forth, back and forth, all the while his hand wandering over the curve of the blond's hip bone, done to explore the soft curve of his thigh and back up, teasingly close to his groin.

"S-sex." Good god he was going to come just from that little contact.

"Ah. Do not worry, Alfred. I would not make love in this shower."

Blue eyes went wide and Alfred stopped breathing. Make love? No one had ever said anything like that before. People wanted to screw him, wanted to be screwed by him. Bang, fuck, shag, he'd heard those terms, and in his head he'd always thought of it as making love when he thought of Ivan, but to have the Russian say it back…he didn't know how to react.

"Then…what're you…?"

Nervous and a little excited, he tried to turn to see the other boy only to have Ivan push him closer to the wall. Hips pressed against his ass and he gasped at the hardness contained by the Russian's underwear. Had he really gotten Ivan hard? Him? It seemed so impossible but the evidence was right there, he couldn't deny it. He was hard and Ivan was hard.

Ivan wanted him.

It was a moment of pure victory that made him grin, and he would have let out a woop had the situation been different. As it was, he kept his voice in check and allowed Ivan to arrange him against the wall. His hands were braced flat against the stones, shoulders and cheek resting there as his hips were pulled back. A foot gently nudged at his ankles to make him spread his legs.

I look like a slut.

But he didn't care. All he cared about was the way Ivan's kisses had moved to his upper back, the warm breath that caressed his skin and made him shudder, the hands on his waist as the Russian's hips ground against his ass. Small sparks of pleasure were bolting through him, making his pulse race and his breathing shallow. His entire body felt warm and relaxed despite his eager anticipation, was moving just slightly to match the larger teen.

Ivan had said they weren't going to make love, so he wasn't worried about losing his virginity in a shower stall in the high school's locker room, but he was about thirty seconds away from begging the larger male to get on with it. He'd waited years for this to happen.

"Ready?" Ivan breathed just next to his ear.

Alfred swallowed hard and nodded. A chuckle sounded, low and husky, before one of the hands on his waist slid around towards his groin. The first gentle touch made him bite his lip and shift against the wall, followed by a soft groan as fingers wrapped around him.

How was this even happening? Ivan was giving him a handjob. The world was ending. He'd somehow died and gone to heaven. It was the only explanation.

"Relax, Alfred."

Oh, had he gotten tense? Oops.

Okay, focus. Don't get distracted. Just enjoy this while it lasts.

That wasn't difficult to do. Even though he went slowly at first, Ivan clearly knew what he was doing. With just a few strokes, he had Alfred panting against the wall and whining in the back of his throat. Touching himself was one thing, but being touched by someone else, especially the man he'd fantasized about since puberty, was an entirely new experience. He could just imagine that the grip Ivan had on him now was the same one the Russian used on himself, firm and deliberate to get him completely hard before he even got close to his release.

An image of Ivan doing just that filled his mind, made him let out a low moan and shift again.

"Feel good?"

"Y-yeah…ah….shit…."

The Russian chuckled again and continued, patiently sliding his hand up and down Alfred's length. He was still pretty wet from his shower, and it wasn't long before he started leaking precum, which only made it easier for Ivan to fondle him.

"Why is Alfred so quiet?" Ivan teased, his free hand moving up to gently trace the American's mouth. Al had been biting his lip for the past several moments in an effort to hold back his sounds, a difficult thing to manage because the groans building in his throat would have echoed around the locker room loudly enough for anyone outside to hear.

"I-I don't—nng—want to be f-found…hah…"

"I want to hear."

Alfred whined, trying to think past the pleasure that was making his knees tremble. If they hadn't been locked, he was sure he would have collapsed. How did people ever do this kind of thing standing up? He wasn't even doing any of the work and he was about to fall over!

No, he needed to focus. But this felt so good. Ivan was a god. How had he learned to do this? Fuck, no, he couldn't keep quiet anymore. It was too much.

"Ah…I-Ivan…mm…"

"Louder." A gentle squeeze.

"Fuuuck Ivan!"

The Russian smirked and licked up the back of Alfred's neck, making the blond in his grasp whimper and shiver. "Good." His hand started to move faster, twisted around Al's length and teased his tip, grip loosening and tightening throughout.

"N-no-aagh….I…vaaan…hah…I…sh-shit…someone'll…hear!" His voice echoed back to him, accompanied by the sound of his pants and gasps and punctuated by little whimpers that made him sound pathetically horny.

"Let them."

"Oohhhh," he shuddered when Ivan squeezed him and bit his shoulder at the same time. His mouth was hotter than expected, teeth digging into Al's skin just a little before he started to suck and lick. It made the American squirm, had him drawing his hips forward until Ivan forced them back again. And still that incessant grinding. Alfred was starting to wish they were both naked because god he was getting desperate and he didn't care anymore that they were in the locker room. He just wanted to come and he wanted Ivan more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

"Alfred is close." A particularly rough pump earned a loud groan from the blond and he nodded, light-headed from the lack of air and unable to focus enough to respond verbally. He couldn't have kept quiet now if his life depended on it. The locker room was filled with his voice, his pants and moans and the desperate little keens he let out every few breaths.

"Sh-shi….I…caan't…Ivan…fuckin-nng…please…!"

Without a word or a nod, the Russian began to pump faster, hand strong and steady around the smaller athlete's length. The increased speed meant that Alfred was gasping for every breath, fingers digging into the stone of the wall as he tried to keep up. He barely realized that his hips were jutting forward to try to increase contact, that he was practically humping Ivan's hand, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

This was heaven, was better than any fantasy or daydream he'd ever had about the man behind him. God he was so close. His vision had been reduced to a hazy world of white pleasure, the only sounds his own voice, Ivan's hand and mouth the only things he could feel. Not even the wall was real anymore.

"Let go, Alfred. Come for me."

That husky whisper spelled the end for him and Alfred came undone with a broken shout, hips bucking against Ivan's hand as his seed spattered the wall. Every muscle was taught and trembling, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open as he tried to breathe.

Fuck…

Slowly, his vision returned and his strength abandoned him, leaving him to slump against the wall with a tired groan. Exhaustion hit him like a bulldozer. He'd never been worked over like that, never had to wait so long for release. Ivan hadn't gone easy on him.

"Nn…" Strong arms wrapped around his middle and carefully hefted him away from the wall before he could collapse completely. Ivan carried him out of the shower stall and to one of the benches bolted to the locker room's floor. Gently, he set the blond down and sat beside him, letting Alfred lean heavily on his shoulder.

"Is Alfred all right?"

"Hm?" He glanced tiredly at the Russian's face. "Yeah…"

Lips brushed against his temple. "Happy birthday."

Despite not having the energy to lift a hand, Alfred smiled and laughed quietly. "Thanks." After being lied down the bench to rest, he watched Ivan go back to the shower and gather his things for him. The Russian toweled him down and helped him dress, though he did take a few moments to examine Alfred's body in a way that had the American blushing and rolling his eyes to hide his embarrassment.

"I can come to Alfred's house?" Ivan asked once they were both fully dressed and Al had recovered enough to sit up on his own.

Yes, absolutely. Oh, but what about Arthur? He was supposed to come hang out all day. Could Al really just ditch him in order to get laid?

Little prick ratted me out. He can deal.

"Yeah, you can." He grinned, and the worried look that had been darkening Ivan's eyes immediately vanished.

"I will meet you there."

"Cool."

The two athletes picked up their respective bags and left the locker room together. Alfred's gaze went straight to his car, where, unsurprisingly, Arthur was waiting with a bored and irritated expression. As soon as he saw Alfred coming, he shrugged away from the vehicle.

"What took you so long?" he asked as the taller blond unlocked the car. Alfred glared.

"You know exactly what took me so long, you jerk." He tossed his bag unceremoniously into the back seat as Arthur burst out laughing.

"I take it you enjoyed Ivan's birthday present then."

"Shut the fuck up, Arthur."

"Oh, come on, don't be a git. I did you a favor."

Alfred chose to start the car and drive out of the parking lot rather than answer. Arthur folded his arms over his chest and raised one thick eyebrow. "What, you didn't enjoy it? I thought you'd die for a chance at hooking up with Ivan."

"I didn't say I didn't enjoy it."

"Then what are you so pissed about?"

His nerves making him grip the steering wheel harder than was necessary, Alfred glanced in his rearview mirror to see Ivan's car following his own. "I'm not pissed."

"You're still being an arse. I didn't do it to be mean."

A sigh escaped the blue-eyed blond. "I know. Sorry. I'm just nervous."

"Why're you nervous?" It was as he asked that Arthur noticed the way Alfred kept glancing at the mirror; he turned around. "Oh. I'm not coming over today, am I."

"Nope."

"Right. Well, good luck, mate."

"Thanks."

The car pulled up to the curb outside Arthur's house and the smaller blond got out only to lean down to look at Al through the window. "Text me if you want to hang out later, okay?"

"Yeah," Alfred replied stiffly; his knuckles were white with the strength of his grip. He could practically feel Ivan's gaze boring into the back of his head.

"See you." Arthur offered a crooked smile and waved before Al pulled away from the curb and stared off down the street with Ivan following close behind.