Quarter to Ten

Slouching his head into the centre of his palm, Arthur scanned the heaving Italian restaurant and gnawed on a tasteless, complimentary breadstick. The clacking of silverware and clusters of various conversations crowded Arthur's head, serving as kindling for a headache.

Allistor, his eldest brother, was the first to tack on to Arthur's dispassionate behaviour.

"We're treating you to a birthday meal, not sending you to the guillotine," he near bellowed. Such an oaf. "Come on little brother, cheer up! Nothing wrong with turning thirty."

Arthur received a slap on the back that jolted him forward and he was almost impaled on the breadstick.

The look he sent Allistor's way was barbed with resentment.

"There is when I'm spending my birthday with you idiots and not my bloody reclusive soulmate, wherever he may be," Arthur said, feeling as bitter as an old spinster who owned a lot of cats and hissed at people who dared to touch said cats. It could be worse, he could have been a part of the handful of the population born without watches but, at this rate, he could also be sentenced to the fate of meeting his soulmate on his deathbed. Another rare but very possible scenario.

"You'll meet your soulmate, ya soft sod, there's no rush," Seamus contributed, wiping away his Guinness moustache. "You're just overthinking it."

"That's all well and good for you to say. You've all found your soulmates," Arthur snapped, abandoning the breadsticks altogether and moving on to his preferred remedy for dealing with both his brothers and his birthday: double gin and tonic, no lemon. "The lot of you have already walked down the aisle and I still have this bleeding thing on my wrist."

Arthur's eyes hovered over his watch, acknowledging its existence was something he seldom did. The gadget tormented him with its stillness and the hands that had been set on quarter to ten since his birth – the time he'd meet his soulmate.

The notorious drawback of the soulmate watches was that any given time occurred twice in a twenty-four period. That was thirty years' worth of accursed quarter to tens. Arthur wouldn't know which quarter to ten until his soulmate moved off his lazy arse, met Arthur, and the watch fell off Arthur's wrist.

Arthur glowered at the watch. Bloody contraption was the bane of is existence.

"That just means you have time to experiment." Seamus waggled his eyebrows, undeterred by Arthur's display of self-pity. "So you can impress your soulmate when he makes an appearance."

Allistor snorted and Arthur rolled his eyes when he choked on his beer.

"There's a waiter over there that I think you'd like." Dylan nudged his head sideways, towards the opposite side of the restaurant. "Tall, blond one with the glasses. Do some experimenting with him."

"I beg your pardon. I will not be experimenting with random waiters you like the look of," Arthur said, not bothering to look over at the waiter in question.

"Don't be such a prude, Artie. It's your birthday, go for it!" Allistor elbowed Arthur and the Englishman contemplated, as he rubbed yet another one of the sore spots Allistor had inflicted, that sitting next to Allistor had been an error in his judgement.

"No," Arthur said, voice inflected with irritation. "Now, stop it, all of you – our meals are here."

The arrival of food certainly put a stop to their nonsense and Arthur had to pretend to listen to dull conversations about rugby and petrol prices while he attempted to eat spaghetti with some semblance of delicacy. He didn't manage but, blessedly, no one was watching when he flicked himself on the nose with pasta.

Once finished, their clean plates were taken away with a proficiency that only poor university students relying on tips could achieve. Allistor then announced he was going to search for a dessert menu.

When he returned with an impish grin on his face, Arthur felt something cold and sickly settle at the crux of his stomach.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Me?" Allistor asked with a transparent guise of innocence. "Nothing. Just enjoyed the food, wasn't the food great?"

"That was one mean tagliatelle," Seamus said in agreement.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Where's the dessert menu then?"

"What?"

"You went to find out about a dessert menu?" Arthur prompted.

"Oh yeah, they're bringing some over." The redhead ruffled Arthur's hair. "Don't worry, you'll get dessert."

The coldness grew and disturbed the food in Arthur's belly when he spotted the female waitress who had been serving them carrying a sponge cake dotted with lit candles. Arthur's heart rate became hysterical.

"If that cake is for me, Allistor, I will be hiring someone to remove your testicles as slowly and as painfully as possible." Arthur turned to his brother who looked every bit the twelve year old boy who had put worms in Arthur's wellies then laughed when Arthur had screamed and flailed to get the boots off. Dylan and Seamus were wearing similar expressions. "Please don't do this to me, I am thirty years old."

"Yeah, today, so we got you a birthday cake." Allistor chirped.

The singing began and it didn't take long before the parties of people surrounding Arthur were joining in, singing happy birthday to an utter stranger. Allistor was yelling directly into his ear. Arthur had never wanted to spontaneously develop the superpower of invisibility more than in that moment.

The cake was placed in front of him and Arthur's eyes flicked to the backstabbing waitress. She was accompanied by another employee, a strapping young man with a knee-weakening smile and striking, blue eyes. He was singing with an enthusiasm that surely wasn't covered by his wage packet.

"You gotta make a wish now!" the waiter said once the song had ended. His accent certainly wasn't local.

American enthusiasm. That explained it. Arthur had never been exceptionally fond of American enthusiasm but he was suddenly rather interested in discovering the extent and uses of this particular American's enthusiasm.

Arthur took in a lungful of air and readied himself to blow out the candles when something landed in the centre of the cake and was partially submerged by frosting.

Arthur looked up at the waiter, mystified.

"What was that?" the waiter asked.

Gingerly, Arthur reached for the foreign object and pulled it out of the gooey frosting. It took his mind a moment to comprehend fully what he was holding but when it did; his eyes went back to the waiter in an instant.

The American tugged at his shirt sleeve and his eyes went wide at the sight of his bare wrist.

"Whoa… but who–"

A hand that wasn't his own shook Arthur's sleeve and his watch tumbled out, clattering as it landed on the table. Alfred stared at him blankly and Arthur felt a swell of panic in his gut. It vanished, however, when an unreservedly pleased smile curled the waiter's lips.

"Hell yeah! I knew my soulmate would be really hot!" the waiter exclaimed.

Arthur felt hotness gather at the back of his neck.

"I'm Alfred," he said. "I'm so happy to finally meet you."

A smile tickled at the edge of Arthur's lips and he couldn't find it within himself to hinder it.

"Arthur."

"Arthur," Alfred said slowly, as if testing the name on his tongue. The hotness in Arthur's neck expanded and tingled along his spine. "I finish at eleven, do you mind–"

"Not at all," Arthur said. Perhaps a little too eager. "I'll wait."

"Great! Oh, and you still need to blow your candles out, wouldn't want to waste your birthday wish."

"It's fine, I um– well, I don't really need the wish now."

Alfred responded with a gentle laugh. He left with reluctance in his steps and waited until the very last moment to break eye contact with Arthur.

After a beat of silence amongst his brothers, Allistor was the first to make a comment. "Have some of your cake then you can have dessert."

Arthur smiled.

Birthdays weren't so bad after all.

Happy birthday Arthur, you grouchy old man! And happy Saint George's Day everyone!

Apologies this is a day late - I posted it on time on tumblr.