He took a deep breath. He could do this. It was easy. He'd done it a million other times with countless other friends. There was no reason to be scared. For god's sake, he was the embodiment of courage! A true hero!

But he was terrified.

"Alfred, are you quite alright?" Arthur asked, his stupid eyebrows soaring up and his stupid eyes gleaming with concern.

Alfred hated his stupid face. He coughed a few times, and then tried for a watery smile, which came out as more of a grimace than anything else.

"Alfred? What's wrong?"

Alfred stared at his hands. If he looked anywhere else, he'd chicken out. "Um," he began eloquently. "Do you want to...you know..."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, the concern falling from his face. "No, you dolt, I don't know. I'm not psychic."

Alfred gulped, and then looked at the screen. "Do you want to hang out?" He blurted.

Arthur blushed, his eyes going quite wide and his mouth dropping down just slightly. Alfred, of course, was already looking away, and did not witness his reaction.

"L-like meet? In person?"

Alfred immediately regretted even bringing up the topic, and he looked up at the computer, but not at Arthur's face. "It's not like you have to! I totally understand if you're like weirded out by it! It's no big deal, dude!"

Arthur bit at his lip, his eyes scanning his keyboard. "No, it's not that. I just wasn't expecting..." he paused, and then inhaled at length.

"I'd love to meet up, Al."

…

Alfred was going to die. It was that simple. His stomach was going to explode, releasing the traipsing elephants that were dancing inside it into the streets, and Alfred was going to die. He briefly wondered who would attend his funeral, and what his obituary would say.

"Man killed by his own stupidity."

Alfred sighed, toeing the ground with the edge of his converse. He's changed outfits so many times that day, it was amazing he'd even made it out the door. First he dressed to the nines, a tie and everything, and then he realized that he hated ties and ditched that idea all together. So he went for casual, but had gone a little too overboard, and then changed again.

Currently, he was in jeans and a nice navy button-down shirt which was covered by his trusty bomber jacket, but he wouldn't have been surprised if his outfit changed in the next hour.

He wasn't sure how he'd exactly manage that, though, because Arthur was due to arrive any minute.

Speak of the devil.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Arthur rounded the corner of the little souvenir shop they'd agreed to meet at. It had been a long drive for both of them, choosing to meet halfway in the middle of Northern Jersey, and Arthur's hair was tousled from the drive. (Or, maybe it was always like that?)

Besides that, he looked amazing, and Alfred assumed he had dressed only once that morning, like a normal person. (He was, of course, wrong in this assumption.)

Arthur had pulled on a shirt with the words"MUSIC" printed in fancy script across it. His jeans were torn, which shocked Alfred greatly, and his shoes were just plain black sneakers. His jacket was black leather.

"Hello," Alfred tried, ignoring the way his voice shook.

"Right, well, hello," Arthur replied, looking nervous himself.

Oh god, he probably thought Alfred was going to rape him or drug him or something. He definitely thought that. Alfred was a terrible person. He should just turn himself in to the police, there was no use fighting it.

"So, do you want to eat lunch first or should we head straight to the park?"

Alfred envied Arthur's ease at the question, and quietly reminded himself that he was not, in fact, planning to rape or drug Arthur any time soon, and gave a nervous chuckle.

"Lunch sounds good."

…

Arthur knew a nice restaurant in the area. They headed to it, not talking too much on the way there. Alfred had to stifle a sigh of relief when the tiny thing came into sight. It had a beautiful garden out front, and was clearly a mom-and-pop business. The outdoor seating was as inviting as ever, even in the somewhat brisk air of starting autumn.

They chose to sit outside, on the patio surrounded by large oaks. It was all quite surreal, like it had been peeled from a romance novel and taped into real life.

N-not that it was romantic or anything!

The woman serving them was named Elizabeta, and she had a large smile and beautiful brown curls that hung at her shoulders. One of the garden's flowers was tucked behind her ear.

"Could I start you out with something to drink?"

They ordered what they will, and Alfred felt as if time was trickling by like honey. "So..." He started, tracing the pattern of the metal table and shifting in the matching seat.

"Oh! I never got to finish telling you the story about the time Scot sent me up to the attic, did I?" Arthur asked, his expression so open and innocent.

"No," Alfred agreed, clamping down the fond smile that was trying to contort his lips. "You had to go to work."

Arthur laughed. "Well, it all began rather funnily, actually. It started when he told me about the wolves..."

…

Alfred was dead. He'd died and gone to heaven. He couldn't imagine why, exactly, but he wasn't going to question it. He was too happy to care. His stomach was pleasantly full, the wind was caressing his cheek, and every so often Arthur's hand would brush his own as they walked slowly through the park. (And the hand-brushing, both of them would assure you, was completely incidental.)

The trees were all just beginning to turn, and every so often a leaf would sweep by, waving at Alfred as it went. Arthur was currently talking animatedly. He seemed to be complaining about something, Alfred wasn't entirely sure. His mind had long lost the ability to process English, and he was only reveling in Arthur's expressions and his dancing eyes.

As Arthur spoke, a leaf drifted down into his hair, and he was apparently too caught up in the one-sided conversation to notice.

Alfred easily reached up and plucked it out. It was such a natural thing for him to do. He felt like he was underwater, his actions just flowing into one another, his body light and buoyant and completely relaxed under the waves.

Arthur had stopped speaking. He was looking at Alfred with a complicated expression, which said more than Alfred cared to think about.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Not a problem."

…

It was not the last time that Alfred and Arthur met up. They might have been four hours apart, but they kept at it. In the beginning, they met in the middle, both of them driving out two hours to vague locations around the area.

Then they started splitting the hours oddly, as one of them wanted to take another to a certain area, like the bookstore Arthur was so fond of with the spiraling architecture or the bowling alley Alfred frequented with Gilbert and Matthew.

Finally, the hours were completely knocked aside. Alfred visited Arthur's cozy home that rested outside the city.

It had only one bedroom, a small kitchen and one bath. But the yard was lovely, and it reminded him of the restaurant they went to the first time they went. They drank lemonade on the minuscule back porch and watched bluebirds bathe in the fountain. Alfred loved Arthur's house. It was small, but when the windows were open it smelled like heaven. Light always drifted in, and the old television sometimes crackled when it was left on too long. The poor stove had scorch marks on it from repeated misuse, and the teakettle whistled a bit too loudly, but it was perfect, and Alfred wished for nothing more.

Then Arthur finally came over to Alfred's apartment, and they sat on the floor, their backs against the couch, under a large quilt. Alfred educated Arthur in the ways of good movies, and Arthur educated him in how much he didn't care.

Afterward, though, when it was so very late, and the end of The Godfather was playing in the background, Arthur shifted just two inches. They were pressed up together, both having been inching closer to the other since the first movie had been played. Arthur slowly laid his head on Alfred's shoulder, as if he could do it so slowly that Alfred wouldn't notice.

But notice he did. He tensed at first, knowing that this was quite probably crossing that terribly thin line they'd drawn in the sand almost a year and a half ago.

He didn't care.

He twisted, so his face was right in front of Arthur's. Arthur was smiling, so beautifully smiling, because he knew exactly what was to come.

"Arthur, I'm in love with you."

Arthur laughed once, a strange, strangled sort of gasp, and threw his arms around Alfred's neck.

They kissed until morning, the credits finally running out of names to scroll, and Alfred was so very happy that he's stayed up that night to role play a gay Captain America and his friend, sassy Tony Stark.

The end! This was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoyed!

I think you'll be happy to know that Alfred eventually moves in with Arthur, and they buy two parakeets. They of course name them Cap and Tony.

I'm gonna be honest here, I never thought I'd get so much feedback so quickly on this story. I mean, within the first hour of posting it I'd already had a million favorites, so thanks so so much!

Sorry for any mistakes, I'm American!

-Mallory