Hi! I know I should be writing more pottertalia but I really couldn't help myself. I've always wanted to write a one-shot and this story has been in my mind for a while. But I promise I will write more pottertalia when time comes around. They'll probably be one more update before I go back up to school in August so get excited for that!

So, I got inspiration when I saw one of those Abercrombie models that kinda looked like APH America in the mall near me and had to write some story about it. I don't see many model!AU stories around and love reading them so I thought maybe I could write one.

I've never written a one-shot before, so if you have any critiques, I will happily accept them! (Also, if anyone wants to beta for me, that would be awesome because my grammar is atrocious.)

Also, I'm thinking of writing a sequel, if enough people like this story so please R&R.

Enjoy~!

Arthur Kirkland hated shopping. There was almost nothing in the world could change that.

Sure being a gay boy he was stereotypically supposed to love shopping, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. Arthur would rather gouge out his eyes with pins than go shopping.

Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but he had no tolerance for shopping. It was simply a waste of time. Instead of shopping, he could be studying or writing or doing practically anything. Besides, everything he could buy was available online and at his doorsteps in two days. There was no need to go shopping anymore.

And yet here he was, standing in front of a large mall in the middle of Boston.

"I know you just ate so we'll stop at Starbucks before we leave. I know how much you love a Frappuccino, even though you say they're too girly. And I'll make sure to get no whipped cream, unless they have chocolate whipped cream," Arthur's friend Elizaveta blabbed on. Elizaveta was one of his friends from university. The two were in the same freshman seminar and became instant friends. While the two were an unlikely pair - she was outgoing and bubbly while Arthur was cynical and introverted -, they did care for each other, even if Arthur refused to admit it.

"So, first we have to buy this dress at Urban Outfitters. It's only forty dollars, which is so cheap for that place. I mean, when was the last time something was under one hundred] from there? Never! Then, we absolutely have to get jeans at Abercrombie and Fitch! And then Victoria's Secret for-"

"Please don't tell me we're seriously going in there," Arthur groaned dramatically.

"Come on, Artie. It's not that bad. I have to know which bras look good! The lacy ones just don't cut it anymore, not that you would know. I'm thinking of getting some leather lingerie. I want to surprise Gil-"

"I don't care about that!" Arthur protested, although his ears turned a bright shade of red. He didn't exactly like hearing about his best friend's kinky nighttime activities, especially in public. Some things should be left to imagination, or not thought about at all. "I refuse to go to Abercrombie! It's too dark and it smells like a junior high school dance."

"Please Artie!" she begged dramatically (she was always so dramatic).

"I refuse." He rubbed his temples, already feeling a migraine that was sure to come after inhaling that horrible body spray that stinks up the store or the constant thumping of the bass from some catchy pop song. Just the thought of it made him shiver.

"But it's the only place where they have my size jeans!"

"I highly doubt that," Arthur snorted. Much to Arthur's annoyance, Elizaveta stood a good few centimeters taller than him at almost two hundred centimeters. She was just short of being a super model, so finding clothes couldn't be as difficult as she claimed.

"Please, please!"

"Why not ask Francis? He's good at this shit! I don't know why I always have to be dragged to this."

"Francis has a date, as always. You know he's dating that Canadian kid, Matthew. They're so cute together!"

"Lucky him," Arthur muttered under his breath. He didn't particularly like hearing about how happy his ex-boyfriend was, even if they were on good terms with each other. "What about Feliks?"

"He went back to Poland for the weekend. Something about a sick grandma."

"Feliciano? Ludwig?" he asked desperately. Surely everyone couldn't be busy on a Saturday morning.

She shook her head once. "They simply wouldn't do. They don't know a thing about fashion, not that you know anything."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, about to scold her until he decided on a different approach. "What about Roderich?"

She glared at the mention of her recent ex-boyfriend. "You're an ass, Arthur."

Arthur smirked, almost proud of himself. He knew their one year relationship didn't end well: Elizaveta ended up smashing his fingers with a piano cover after he said some sexist comment, even if he did deserve it, to an extent. "You say it as if it's an insult."

"Come on, " she groaned. "There has to be something I can do!"

Arthur shook his head once. "Nope, nothing will convince me."

"What if I pay for some clothes?"

"From there?" he spat. Scratch what he said before, he would definitely gouge out his eyes if he ever wore anything from Abercrombie and Fitch. "I wouldn't be dead wearing that. I don't know why you do."

"Fine, then what do you want? A sex toy?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at his friend. "I'm not you."

She rolled her light green eyes. "Oh please. We all know you're a kinky little shit."

"Calling me names is hardly going to convince me," he scoffed, not denying or confirming her allegations.

"Okay, okay. I'll get you something you want. How about I buy you a new kettle."

Arthur's eyes lit up. Maybe he could expend a few minutes in that retched place of he were to get a kettle. His old reliable one accidently-on-purpose went missing after a rather bad breakup with an ex. Surely, Abercrombie couldn't be that bad. "An electric one? With temperature settings?"

"Fine, as long as it's not a hundred dollars. Not everyone can be on scholarship like you. I have loans too, you know."

"Deal. But I'm waiting in the front."

Waiting in the front was far worse than he would have imagined, although he couldn't fathom how being mere meters from the store could get any worse, unless he actually dared to go in. Sure, it didn't nearly smell as bad as it would have if he went fully in and the annoying pop music was hardly audible. Not to mention, there was enough light from the mall to see his phone in front of him.

No, it was that irritating model that annoyed Arthur more than anything.

He could see him out of the corner of his eyes. The model was swaying his hips quite provocatively, almost teasing onlookers. The model knew he was attractive, to say the least, with his golden blond hair and big blue eyes, but Arthur didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Everything about him irritated Arthur. He seemed arrogant, everything from the way he held himself to his perfectly chiseled features. Not to mention his bright, crooked smile that bothered Arthur to no end.

Arthur knew he was merely novelty used by these stores to increase sales by luring some young females to buy some of the overpriced, poorly made clothes. However, he seemed intent on getting Arthur's attention instead.

"Hey," the boy called in a low southern drawl. Instinctively, Arthur looked up from fiddling on his phone. "Yeah you." Arthur could have sworn he just winked at him. No, he must have imagined that. A guy that good looking as to model with his shirt off for the entire mall would hardly be winking at Arthur. Arthur was plain and boring and not much to look at. He wasn't exactly tall or muscular and had thick eyebrows that nobody particularly fancied. He couldn't understand why this attractive model was even talking to him.

"What can I help you with today?"

"Oh nothing," Arthur scoffed, trying not to look up from his phone. Even after four years of university in the States, he never did like how friendly Americans were. They would constantly want to chit-chat whether it be on line for groceries or on public transportation. Arthur much preferred England where everyone minded their own business and didn't try to make forced small talk. It was truly better that way.

His blue eyes widened as he approached Arthur. "Why, you have such a nice accent! British," he practically cooed. He seemed so excited that he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I absolutely love British accents-"

"English," Arthur corrected coldly. He hated when Americans called his accent British. It was clearly English. Southern English, to be exact, which was definitely not the same as British. British included Whales and Scotland and he most certainly couldn't be associated with Scotland. Even Arthur couldn't understand what anyone from Scotland was saying, and he had a step brother from Scotland.

"Same thing," he shrugged. Arthur scowled. He couldn't believe someone was so ignorant as to actually believe that Britain and England were the same thing. It was as if he called a Canadian an American. That surely wouldn't go over well.

"So, why are you standing all alone out here?" the model asked, his hand on his hip. "You trying to connect to the free wifi, 'cause I'll tell you the password-"

"Just here with a friend," Arthur replied coldly. He hoped that the worker would get the hint and finally leave him alone. He really didn't feel like talking to anyone, let alone some prick without a shirt on. He was obviously a tool in Arthur's eyes. He was above a low life that relied on taking his shirt off for money. "She walked in a minute ago."

His mood darkened. "Oh, her." He turned over his shoulder to get a better look. She was hovering near a shelf of jeans looking for her size in about every style imaginable. Arthur could have sworn she was purposely stalling in order to enrage Arthur, and it was working.

"She sure is pretty," he mumbled unenthusiastically with almost a hint of jealously. "You're a lucky guy."

"It's-it's not like that!" Arthur sputtered in protest. He couldn't understand why everyone assumed that hanging out with a girl, albeit shopping with a girl, inherently made him her boyfriend. Elizaveta was just a friend, nothing more. Girls and boys could have platonic relationships. Why couldn't some people accept that?

"Nah man, I get it. You know, you must have a huge crush on her to go into a store like this. Not many guys come here with their girls. A shame really. There's nothing wrong in telling someone that they look beautiful." Okay, there was no doubt that he was trying to flirt with Arthur now. Or maybe he was just friendly? Southerners were known to be overly friendly and loud but also a tad homophobic.

Arthur snorted. "I don't have a crush on her. Crushes are for elementary school kids. And besides, I'd hardly call anyone who wears this shit beautiful," he sneered. Honestly, he couldn't understand why anyone in their right mind would pay for this garbage. The clothes were poorly made polyester garbage and were priced like it came from Armani. If he were to fork out fifty dollars for a shirt, he would be damn sure it was high end, not some factory produced crap.

"I'd like to say I look pretty good in this." He gestured down to his clothes, or rather lack of clothes. He was pair of dark colored jeans that curved around his bottom. They were falling down a bit which showed just the tops of his American themed boxers. However, the model was completely naked on his top half, which wasn't exactly unappealing.

He had a well-defined chest and just the right amount of muscles padding his arms. Arthur imagined those strong arms embracing him passionately. "What do ya think?"

Arthur's mouth went dry.

"Stop flirting with the model and come tell me which look good!" Elizaveta interrupted.

"I'm not flirting!" Arthur protested, pretending his flustered features were because of his friend, not his dirty thoughts. He was definitely not flirting, and he had no idea how she even got that silly idea in his head. No, he most certainly was not flirting with the handsome model, even if his cheeks did turn a deep red shade.

The model laughed at this. Even Arthur had to admit it was a rather cute laugh. It was low and genuine, making his chest vibrate. "I guess I should unlock a changing room for y'all."

"That would be nice"

Arthur followed the worker to the back of the store. He began to fiddle with the lock on one of the four white doors before gesturing to Elizaveta to change in there.

"If you need anything, I'll be right out here!" the model called with a cheery, fake grin.

"Thanks," she said and slammed the door shut.

Arthur sighed and situated himself on the bench. His feet were surely swollen from all this walking around, yet he knew she was barely half way done, as usual. On top of an electric kettle, Elizaveta would definitely owe him a foot message.

"You're not from around here, are you?" the model asked. Unceremoniously, he plopped down next to Arthur, making the plush bench bounce just slightly. "What brings you to Boston? You aren't trying to get revenge for the Boston Tea Party, are you?"

Arthur ignored his last comment. "I grew up in a small town in Southern England. I came here to study." Usually, he wouldn't be bothered with asking such trivial questions to a store clerk, but this blond haired model intrigued him, for some inexplicable reason. It definitely wasn't because he was sexy, and shirtless, and was sitting rather close to him. Definitely not any of those reasons.

"That's so cool! I'm from Texas which is pretty boring. I came here to study too! MIT has one of the only aerospace engineering programs in the country."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" The American has to be lying. There was no way someone this handsome went to one of the greatest schools in the area. He was surely trying to impress Arthur. No, he probably just attended some party school, no doubt.

"Yeah, it's pretty awesome. I absolutely love space! I've always wanted to be an astronaut, and now that dream will become a reality!"

"So you're a genius who likes to model? Is there anything you can't do?" he asked bitterly. His hands absently played with the stuffing coming out of the couch.

"Thanks, but I'm no model," he scoffed humbly, his cheeks blooming red. "I just need money to pay tuition. My mom has to pay for me and my brother so it's hard for us. Besides, scholarships and grants can only get you so far, right? My friend Bella has a job here and said I could totally get hired to stand around with my shirt off. Twenty bucks an hour. How could I say no?"

"I could think of a few good reasons," Arthur replied bitterly. He wasn't exactly one to put his body out like that. He couldn't imagine what would happen if any of his friends or colleagues would see him in such a state. It was basically stripping.

"Plus, I get whatever I wear! I totally love the skinny jeans here. They really show off my ass. You should try a pair on-"

The model's crude and suggestive comment was once again interrupted by Elizaveta bursting out of the changing room.

"So, what do you think?" she asked, twirling around a bit, flaunting off a pair of faded jeans.

"Those jeans look great! I told you! The skinny jeans here are amazing," the model exclaimed with a genuine smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the worker's blatant lie. "That colour hardly makes her look good and the jeans barely contour her body right. The back pockets are far too low down and they look to be a size too small. I mean really, are you blind? You call yourself a model! Anyways, faded jeans are out of style."

The model shrugged and leaned backwards. "Shows how much I know."

"That's why you need a gay best friend!" she cooed and patted Arthur like a dog. "They always tell you what's good, right Artie?"

The tips of Arthur's ears turned red. "Liz!" he groaned. He didn't exactly want the model to know he was gay, even if it did confirm the model's suspicions. Arthur preferred if his life was private.

"Come on, you know it's true! The only person better at fashion than you is Francis, and he's gay too."

Arthur put his hand on his hip, quite aggravated. He wanted nothing more than to leave. "Can't you hurry this up? I would like to have some time to study while the sun is still up."

She smirked. "I'll make sure to go extra slow." Dramatically, she slammed the white beach-themed door shut before Arthur could protest.

"Sometimes I hate her," he mumbled under his breath.

"Don't worry, I know how you feel," the model insisted with a nod. "My friend Shelly is always asking me to go shopping. Something about gay guys being fashionable. Guess it doesn't apply to bisexuals. I'm basically color blind when it comes to fashion. I should just stick to physics."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Bisexual, huh? He supposed that the model really was flirting earlier, not that it could really count as flirting anyways. He was just doing his job. "Oh really now?"

"Yeah. It's super lame," the blue eyed blond continued. "I wish I knew anything about fashion. I'd probably get more dates, you know. People like someone who is well dressed and hipster and all that. You seem to know lots about fashion though!"

"I don't, actually," Arthur admitted. Frankly, Arthur never cared for fashion. Arthur would much rather prefer button downs and sweaters than his friends' pea coats and skinny jeans. Comfort was far more important to Arthur than looking good. However, that didn't mean he would ever been seen in any low grade manufactured rubbish like that of the infamous Abercrombie and Fitch. He was much too good for it, or so he claimed. "I just know what looks good."

"Well I know one thing that looks good-"

"Okay so what about this one?" Elizaveta interjected, bursting out of the changing room. She flaunted a different pair of dark skinny jeans. At least these jeans complemented her natural beauty, rather than take from it, even if it was made of cheap polyester.

"Much better, Liz. Now are you done?" Arthur asked impatiently, furrowing his eyebrows. All he wanted was to leave this horrid place and never think about the gorgeous, American model ever again, although it was hardly likely.

"Yeah. I'm gonna buy two of these. They're super sexy. I bet Gil won't be able to keep his hands off of me."

Arthur shook his head, disgusted with her comment. Leave it to Elizaveta to say something so crude. "I didn't need that mental picture."

"Oh stop it, Artie. Just because you can't get a boyfriend doesn't mean you have to ruin it for all of us." With those words, Elizaveta returned to the changing room and slammed the door shut for dramatic effect.

Arthur, however, wasn't recovering too well. He could only hope the model didn't see the tips of his ears turn bright red and his cheeks flush slightly.

"Mm, so...Artie was it?" He leaned in closer to Arthur, so much that he could smell his musky cologne and minty breath. "I really like that name-"

"Arthur," he corrected sourly. He didn't particularly feel comfortable having a complete stranger, albeit an attractive stranger, call him by his nickname. It wasn't exactly professional to be called 'Artie' and Arthur considered himself a professional, to some extents. He was a teacher's assistant, after all.

"Like the king! I'm named after a British monarch too, except my name is way uglier-not to say your name is ugly! It's definitely not ugly! But seriously, I don't know anyone named Alfred that's not eighty," he babbled. Realizing he was going off on a tangent, Alfred quickly added "but I like the name Arthur!"

"Of course you do," replied Arthur coldly.

Alfred fidgeted awkwardly, as if he could sense the conversation going sour. He averted his blue eyes to the changing room, praying Arthur's friend would interrupt them once more.

"Don't you have something else to do? You are working, after all," Arthur said coldly. He suspected this could be the way to get Alfred away from him. He didn't exactly care for his brand of annoying small-talk that Elizaveta would have labeled as flirting, although it certainly was not, according to Arthur. "You wouldn't want to get fired."

"Uh nah." Alfred nonchalantly scratched the little blond hairs on the back of his neck awkwardly. "My manager's out of town so no one's gonna get mad. Besides, business is slow today."

The English boy raised an eyebrow. "And by business you mean horny twelve be year olds?"

Alfred chuckled. "Yeah, it's true. They're always trying to discretely take pictures of me to send to their friends, as if I don't notice." Alfred shrugged his shoulders. "But hey, it beats flipping burgers 'til I work for NASA."

"Okay I'm all done," Elizaveta interrupted.

Arthur let out a breath of air he didn't know he was holding in and eagerly stood from the bench, a little too quickly.

"If you're ready," Alfred interrupted awkwardly. "I'll ring you up." He got up from his seat and stretched his arms above his head, his pants falling down just an inch more exposing more of his patriotic boxers. He smiled at Arthur, although he pretended it was at both of them, before sauntering to the empty cash registers.

Arthur tried not to stare at his perfectly round behind, and rather turned to Elizaveta who was smiling deviously.

"What's with that smile?"

"Oh my gosh, he was totally flirting with you!" Elizaveta whispered, pulling Arthur close.

He pushed her away. "Sod off! I can't believe you! You think everyone who is nice to me is flirting with me!" Arthur protested, although he knew she was right. It was one thing to be nice, but he was most certainly flirting with him. He even explicitly mentioned he was bisexual. If that wasn't flirting, then Arthur didn't know what was

"You know I'm an expert in relationships! Who was the who got Ludwig and Feliciano together? Oh right, me. And they are perfect for each other! You should trust me when I tell you that he's totally into you. He totally wants you to get him out of those jeans. He's already done half the work!"

"Liz!" he growled through clenched teeth. He slapped her arm playfully, looking over his shoulder so that no twelve year old girls possibly heard her. He couldn't believe his friend just implied something so disgusting, in a public place no less. Even if he was thinking about it doesn't mean it made her pointing it out any less embarrassing. There were twelve year old girls here who thought holding hands was scandalous. "Don't say such crude things!"

"What!?" she asked holding her hands in a mock surrender, his lips still upturned in a sneaky smile. "It's true! Is it not?"

"It's his job. He's supposed to give you compliments," Arthur pointed out. He had convinced himself that the model's behavior was merely attributed to Americans being nice. No, he couldn't be flirting with him, he reasoned.

"It's one thing to give compliments but it's another to brag about MIT! Come on, you can't be that blind!"

Arthur groaned. "Don't tell me you were eavesdropping, as usual. You have to stop meddling in people's personal lives or someone is going to report you to the police."

"Come on," said Elizaveta, completely ignoring Arthur's previous statements. "He's the total package. Smart, outgoing, sexy, and has that stupid southern accent that you like so much! If I wasn't with Gil, I'd totally fuck him!"

"You're disgusting."

"Just ask him out!"

Arthur rolled his green eyes. He was absolutely done with this conversation. Alfred was merely being nice and Elizaveta thought there was something that's obviously not there. He was just trying to sell Arthur overpriced jeans. And, in Arthur's opinion, he was doing a terrible job.

"I'm ignoring you."

"Be that way," she scoffed, walking towards the cash registers. "I'm just saying you're missing a great opportunity."

"Ignoring you," Arthur pointed out, although he trotted behind Elizaveta to the cash registers.

"That's all?" Alfred asked politely. He wore a polite smile, one he never flashed at Arthur. This one was far too fake. "Not those other jeans?"

"Nah, not today," she replies politely. Arthur only scowled.

Alfred punched some numbers into the register before scanning the price tag on the jeans. "Well, your total comes out to $81.70."

Elizaveta fished into her brown leather purse, pulling out her red wallet. She shuffled through her gift cards before pulling out one for Abercrombie. She turned it over and examined the amount allotted.

"Hey, Artie, do you think you can spare me a twenty and some change?" she asked sheepishly. "I only have sixty on my gift card."

"Liz," Arthur groaned. "I didn't bring any cash-"

"Don't worry about it," Alfred interrupted. He smiled brightly and leaned over the counter. "How about I take Artie out for coffee and we'll call it even?"

"Thanks!" Elizaveta answered for Arthur, hugging him close. "He would love to!"

"What?" Arthur finally sputtered. He couldn't go on a date, let alone with a complete stranger. Who knows if he was even who he said he was. He could be doing this as a prank, for all Arthur knew. Why would he be interested with someone as boring and bland as him, anyways?

"Great!" Alfred exclaimed with a genuine smile, melting all of Arthur's inhabitations. "I guess I'll be seeing you around."

The corner of Arthur's lips turned upwards. Somehow, he liked Alfred's quirky enthusiasm. "Yes, you too."

Arthur supposed shopping at Abercrombie wasn't a complete waste of time, after all.

The End...