Author's note: Hello, folks! I'm here to present you with another ridiculously overgrown oneshot. Please don't take this fic seriously, I beg you. That is all I wanted to say. Good day to you.

This Is War and I Won't Surrender

The first sign was a long, blond hair on Alfred's black jacket.

Arthur's hair was blond, sure, but it was short, and while Alfred's hair was longer than Arthur's, it still didn't equal the hair that Arthur found on this boyfriend's jacket. Besides, neither Arthur's nor Alfred's hair was wavy.

The second sign was the scent of unfamiliar cologne on Alfred's clothes, a cologne neither of the two men wore. And yet the pleasant scent of lilies clung to Alfred whenever he returned home from his mysterious walks.

Which were part of the last and the hardest evidence: the little lies here and there. Alfred had never been good at lying – he always had the face of a guilty child whenever he attempted to avoid the turth – and so it didn't take a psychologist to tell that something was a bit off.

And that was when Arthur Kirkland, a perfect British gentleman, finally came to the realisation that his boyfriend Alfred F. Jones, a self-proclaimed American hero, was cheating on him.

Arthur dealt with the realisation with considerable tact, as was expected of a gentleman like himself. After a lonely, drunken night in a pub and the following (rather hellish) morning, he decided that he wouldn't say anything to Alfred. After all, he didn't want to break up with the American... he would make him pay for his misstep, yes, but he didn't really want a break up; they had been together a long time, and despite everything, Arthur did cherish the moments he had shared with Alfred (not that he would admit that aloud).

This reasoning led Arthur to one conclusion: he would have to fight the faceless mysterious person who was trying to steal his partner, and he would win. No one knew Alfred like he did, so it wouldn't be hard to win the stupid American back.

From words to action, then.

The first step in Arthur's plan was to find out how desperate the American was to see his new object of infatuation. So, when Alfred the next time declared that he was going for a walk, Arthur was prepared.

"Oh," he said in a perfectly normal way. "I just thought to ask if you felt like watching a film with me. You know, that new action film you've been wanting to see."

Alfred halted in the doorway. "Really?" he asked, excitement taking over him in a second. "The one with Russians and aliens?"

"The very same."

"Cool!" But then something washed over the American's eyes, something akin to guilt. "But... ugh... How, how about we go and see it tomorrow?"

Something cold twisted in Arthur's gut, but he let none of that show. "Well," he said, not quite managing to hide all of his disappointment. "If you wish."

"I, uh, I... I'll be back in a couple of hours," Alfred mumbled guiltily and left.

Right, so merely spending time together didn't work. Now Arthur had to know how bad exactly the situation was. And so, when Alfred came up with a little lie again (this time, needing to return some films to a friend of his), Arthur turned to him with a gleam in his eyes and his shirt invitingly, yet very discreetly unbuttoned. "Oh?" he said, innocently, so innocently that Alfred stiffened when he turned to look at him. Yes, there it was, the want in his eyes. It wasn't a lost case yet.

"I..."

Arthur could see him swallow and smirked inwardly.

"I'll be back soon."

The American left again, not seeing the now darkened green eyes. So even an offer of sex didn't work? That was bad. That was very, very bad... But there was one last trial to make, and if Alfred failed that, too, Arthur would know that the situation was crucial and he would have to take drastic actions. And so, when Alfred informed him about his plans to visit his mother, Arthur blinked and, without showing any disgust that he truly felt, deliberately spoke.

"Pity," he said, "I was just suggesting we had dinner at McDonald's today."

Again, Alfred was tempted... but not enough. He left. He left, and Arthur knew that the time for games was over. He would have to either withdraw from the battlefield, or then step out on it and fight for what was his. And as it happened, Arthur Kirkland was not a quitter. If the situation called for war, then war it would be. The days of Alfred's mysterious lover were counted.

For eliminating the person, however, Arthur would have to get to know him, so first he would have to find out who he was. And that, that would happen by spying.

Arthur began very subtly. He needn't get too close at first, he would keep his distance and just observe from afar. No sneaky costumes, no fancy sunglasses, no new hairstyles. Their time would come later.

Thus, at the first convenient moment, when Alfred announced to go to an art gallery with his work colleagues (seriously, Alfred?), Arthur made his first move. Precisely one minute and thirty-five seconds after Alfred had closed their front door, Arthur opened it again and slipped outside. He immediately glimpsed Alfred hailing himself a taxi, and hid behind a tree to avoid being caught. A taxi came, the American climbed inside, and the car drove off, leaving Arthur rather stupidly hiding behind his tree. I need a taxi, he thought, but, unlike it happened in those stupid action films that Alfred so loved because there were lots of explosions and no plot to strain his brain on, there suddenly seemed to occur an unexpected distinction of taxis. None came Arthur's way, and he had already lost Alfred's taxi anyway. "Fuck," he muttered. He hadn't even checked the car's number... not that he would have known what to do with it. "Okay," he promised to himself. "Next time I do this, I do it professionally."

With his plan thus failed, he was a bit at loss of concerning his next move. He didn't quite feel like going home now and admit defeat, but he had no idea where Alfred had really gone, so looking for him at random places was plain stupid. Sighing, Arthur was just about to swallow his failure and go back home, when a long-awaited taxi finally turned around a corner. Contemplating just for a fraction of a second, Arthur waved his hand; he might not find Alfred any more, but as he was already there, on the pavement, he might as well try his luck with one blind shot.

"To an art gallery," he said.

The driver lifted his brow. "Which one?"

Arthur thought about it for a moment. "The one they just opened yesterday," he finally decided. There was a chance that Alfred had actually been telling the truth, at least partly, and the new gallery was more likely to be the place for the rendezvous, as it had just been opened. Alfred didn't care for art (the last time that the American had been in a museum or a gallery had been a year earlier, when he had won free tickets from McDonald's to a fast-food expedition), but perhaps his new partner was an over-sophisticated fucking pansy and wanted to pretend to be cultural and all to keep the stupid American interested.

This time, Lady Luck was smiling to him (if it could be put that way); on getting out of the taxi a but further, Arthur spotted Alfred standing at the main doors of the gallery, apparently waiting for someone. So, he had been telling the truth... at least partly. Now Arthur had to only wait and see if Alfred's colleagues would emerge... or if it was someone else. Fortunately, Alfred had made a point of introducing the Englishman to all his co-workers when they had just stared dating, and Arthur had been invited to some of their annual parties, too. He knew most of the American's colleagues at least by look.

That's why, when an unknown man approached Alfred, Arthur knew that it was not his colleague that Alfred was truly going with. And the kiss that the two shared right there at the entrance was not a normal greeting between work-mates. Arthur's face twisted in disgust as he watched it – he couldn't drag his eyes away. He was quite far from the couple, so they couldn't spot him among all the people, but he himself could observe all he wished... and that's just what he did. The man Alfred was seeing was tall and well-shaped. He had wavy blond hair that was shining in the sun, and it reached his shoulders, though was now tied to a ponytail. He was wearing a fancy white suit, but the jacket was casually hanging over his arm, revealing a stylish dress shirt. Arthur wrinkled his nose. All about that man screamed expensive, pompous, classy, how on earth had Alfred attracted such a man? And why the hell had Alfred went for him, anyway? Fancy had never been his style!

The couple (hah!) went inside, and Arthur turned instantly around. He felt utterly humiliated. What did Alfred want? Was he after flashy things, after all? Did Arthur not meet his standards? What a thought! To not meet Alfred's standards was... was like being thrash under filthy feet, because Alfred didn't have standards! Arthur groaned, hiding his face with his hands. If he was going to compete with that man, he... he didn't know what to do. It didn't take a close inspection to see that Arthur was completely out of his league. He didn't stand a chance.

Arthur stopped in his tracks. He didn't have a chance. What was he thinking? He didn't have a chance, he, Arthur? He, who knew Alfred inside out, better than any fancy strangers ever could! Of-fucking-course he stood a chance – even better – he was likely to win! Arthur Kirkland would not lose to some pompous pansy! Now that he had seen his enemy, he was a step ahead of him. He would keep an eye on him, if possible, and... and something would come up. He would find a crucial fault in him. He would destroy his reputation. He would paint him black in Alfred's eyes, he would get Alfred spit on his picture! For that, Arthur would have to somehow get to know the mysterious man better. An ancient advice came to his mind: Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer. That's what he would do. Somehow he would make Alfred introduce him to his new bloody lover boy. He would spy on them and walk in on them when they would be in innocent enough situations, like in a café or something. Alfred would be obliged to introduce them to each other.

Satisfied with his new war plan, Arthur went home. Just wait, you, he thought. Your days are numbered. Whether he spoke to Alfred or his lover, he didn't know.

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