Same Job, Different Time and Place [R-18] - Part 3

It irritated Arthur that Alfred visibly tilted the AC towards himself and grumbled, winding down the passenger seat window. He decided not to comment on it, lest it provoked an argument.

He rolled his eyes at Alfred’s frustration (although that was rich coming from him, the bitchiest of the bitches) and shrugged.

“Fine, we’ll do it your way. Take the shortcut. If we get lost, it’s your fault, not mine.” Always an optimist. “How far away are we anyway? This heat is utterly stifling.” The air felt thick and hot, like treacle or some sort of horrible oil-like substance.

Alfred smirked a bit at that and he just hummed to himself, waiting for a few more blocks before turning a sharp right. He would definitely get them there early and avoid the majority of the traffic. Well of course they would still hit some traffic but he wanted them to get there as early as possible. They were both grumpy and needed more sufficient cooling.

Of course he was the one driving so he had every right to be frustrated.

"If we had gone the way we went last time, it would have taken six more hours. This should take five or maybe even four and a half." And those hours made all the difference to him.

Arthur would have to believe him. He had no idea, after all. This was the first time that he’d been out of New York in the US, after all.

“If you say so,” he sounded indifferent, bored and tired of Alfred’s conversation. He didn’t really feel like he had a lot to say to him. They were both tired and irritable, and it would probably lead to Arthur snapping and saying something that he didn’t mean.

He didn’t really want to fight, so he chose the most viable option to avoid it.

“I’m going to get some shut-eye. If we get lynched by rednecks, then feel free to wake me. Otherwise, and you will curse the day we met.”

Well, that sounded suitably aggressive.

Arthur settled in his seat, trying to position himself so that he could feel the breeze from the outside of the car. It didn’t take him long to doze off in the heat.

Alfred just sighed a bit, wanting to calm down a bit. He was just absolutely irritated and all he wanted to do was sleep. He probably had that thought a million times over now. Though he didn't want to fall asleep on the wheel and lead them to their deaths. He would just have to stay calm and awake.

Though he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the redneck comment.

"There aren't rednecks in these parts. They're farther down south," He pointed out quickly before the other could actually fall asleep.

Alfred was somewhat glad that Arthur was heading to sleep just so he would have some peace and quiet. He managed to get about two hours of driving done before something terrible happened.

The engine died.

Shit! He didn't bring the right tools for this! With a sigh, Alfred soon climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him before heading to the back so he could grab his tool kit. Inspecting the engine, he couldn't help but frown at the sight.

He couldn't fix this with his current equipment.

"Fuck!" He yelled, nearly wanting to kick his poor car.

Arthur groaned at that and simply stuck up his middle finger at Alfred, eyes closed before he slept. Smarmy bastard.

It seemed like barely any time at all until Arthur was woken up by the loud sound of Alfred slamming the door. He jolted upright, looking around, alarmed before he saw Alfred was merely outside of the car, looking upset. He rubbed his eyes before getting out of the car, starting to feel a little anxious and annoyed just by the fact he’d been woken up and they didn’t appear to be home.

“What happened? Did you hit something?” he frowned.

Alfred just frowned over at Arthur and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He tried to calm his breathing but from what it looked like, it seemed as if they really had no way out of this. Not unless he called someone to help him but even then, it seemed like it would take a long time.

"The engine fucking died," He mumbled. "And I don't have enough with me to fix it. I need to call someone over to help us out."

With a groan, he quickly pulled out his mobile, looking at it carefully and glad that they still had a signal. Soon he quickly began to dial a number, humming before beginning to talk.

"AAA? Thank God," He started before getting in a conversation with them, pacing around and absolutely antsy. He really didn't want to be in this situation. Couldn't they be home already? Home sounded really nice actually. Soon he hanged the phone up, pocketing it and looking over at his boyfriend.

"Gotta wait for an hour."

Arthur made an exasperated sound. He’d predicted that something like this would happen. He glowered at the car. Typical. Absolutely bloody typical.

He folded his arms across his chest, turning to glare at Alfred as the berk talked to someone on the phone (for longer than necessary, in Arthur’s opinion).

“An hour?” he groaned. He made a noise of frustration at the news and held his head in his hand for a second, trying to keep calm before he failed miserably.

“I told you that we shouldn’t have come this way! Fucking hell, Alfred! If this had happened on the other route, at least we’d be near fucking civilisation, where we could have gotten water and food instead of being in the middle of fucking no where, in sodding barren land!” he bellowed, letting his temper get the best of him.

Alfred groaned at that, crossing his arms and getting frustrated. Arthur wasn't the one who had to fucking drive! He could at least stay asleep while he had to stay awake to actually get them home.

"We are near civilisation! I was just trying to get us home earlier! It would have broken down no matter what and I have food and drinks in the back seat! If you want something, then dig in! It's not helping when you're yelling at me! It doesn't do a damned thing, Arthur!"

He scowled before going back to the back of the car, throwing his tool box back in.

"And it's not like we're going to be stranded here forever! It's one damned hour! You can last for one hour!"

“It’s the principle of the matter! You know bloody well that if we’d gone the other, longer way, we would have been closer to people who could help and knew what they were doing! They’d be on hand in under an hour!” Arthur snapped, balling his fists at his sides.

“We would also be able to recuperate somewhere with air conditioning rather than standing in the baking sun!” Arthur was too wound up from the heat, low blood sugar and dehydration to consider being calmer and acting responsibly about this. However, as per usual with Arthur, he was unable to identify that he needed a drink and some food. And right now, it sounded weak to give in and eat or drink anything – like he was surrendering and backing down.

“Why didn’t you just listen?! You never listen to me!”

Alfred just groaned.

"Well it's not often that an engine burns out! How was I supposed to know that it would happen today of all days! I didn't know that it would! I thought it would just be a relatively smooth ride from here! If I knew, I would have gone the regular way back!" He scoffed. "And with those terrible traffic conditions? It would take a fuck load more time to get to us than when we're here!"

He scowled as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"And there's AC in the car! Just turn it on and stay in there for all that I care!" He couldn't help but get a bit frustrated at that. "I don't listen to you? I always try listening to you! I just wanted to get home early so I wouldn't fall asleep and crash us into another car! Was that so much to ask for!?"

“I had no idea that you were so tired – you can’t pin that on me, it has nothing to do with you being ignorant! That’s you being… bloody… you trying to be heroic. If that’s the case, then you should have said something! It won’t kill us if we switch and I’ll drive or something-”

Arthur quickly realised that this wasn’t getting them anywhere.

“Oh sod off,” were his parting words as he went to the boot of the car. He looked through one of the bags before producing a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He pointedly glowered at him before moving away from the car, lighting one up to take a drag.

Alfred just sighed and he glanced over at him, still rather frustrated.

"Well I would still have to stay awake so I could show you how to get back home! You've only been on that road once before! I don't assume you know how to easily get back without a map being messed around with while you're driving."

He just groaned, more than ready to just grab some food though he soon stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the cigarettes.

"You didn't tell me you started taking up smoking again," He murmured softly.

Arthur rolled his eyes, purposefully not answering. He didn’t see the point in discussing it anymore. The conversation was stupid. The whole situation was stupid. Stupid heat. Stupid car. Stupid Alfred.

He took a long drag and looked back across at Alfred, letting the smoke ooze (in what he hoped was an infuriating manner) from his lips.

“Should I have?” he raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t my mother.” He hadn’t officially taken up smoking again. He craved them, yes, but for the past few months, he’d always had cigarettes on hand just in case he got angry, stressed or anxious. Not that he’d indulge Alfred with that information at that moment.

Alfred looked terribly uncomfortable now and he glanced away, less angry and just more uncomfortable this time around.

"I know. But when I asked you that one time after I kissed you, you told me that you didn't smoke. I just dropped it because I believed you," He sighed, getting more frustrated now. So Arthur lied to him? He knew that taste, he knew that it was smoke and despite the evidence he had, he still dropped his suspicions because his boyfriend told him that he hadn't taken it back up.

"But you're right. I'm not your mom."

He kept his gaze pointedly away, instead climbing into the back of the car so he could grab some food for himself since it seemed like his boyfriend wasn't getting anything.

Arthur furrowed his brow. “Don’t try and guilt-trip me, Alfred. Although your kicked puppy act might usually work, it’s not going to this time so cut it out,” he growled, continuing to smoke. He shouldn’t feel bad about that. Not at all. It wasn’t as though it was a frequent thing. Besides, that particular morning Alfred was referring to, Arthur had been pretty stressed. He was an adult, he didn’t need permission from someone else, someone younger than him for that fact to say whether he could or couldn’t smoke. Boyfriend or not.

He kept to the side of the road, having enough sense not to stay in the middle of the road. He dropped down on to the curb, inhaling deeply as he felt the nicotine (seeming to) calm him somewhat.

Alfred just muttered something bitterly to himself before he went to the side of the road, sitting next to the car as he ate the bag of food that he had brought with him. Seriously, what was up with Arthur? He at least had reason to be angry! This was his car, he had to pay ridiculous amounts of money to get it fixed and not only that but he was tired from driving. What excuse did Arthur have? It wasn't as if he was helping them get back home or even knew how to.

Why was he so angry with him?

He just sighed, closing his eyes. It still bothered him that Arthur took up smoking again. He knew he couldn't tell him no but he was concerned about his boyfriend's health. Not only that but wasn't it his right to know?

Arthur didn’t say anything, didn’t try to, didn’t want to. He just numbly sucked the cigarette dry and tossed it to the side once it was out of fuel. He pulled out another cigarette but didn’t light it, just let it perch between his lips. The dry taste of the thin tube was enough for now. He just absently played with the lighter, watching the flame appear, disappear and then reappear.

It wasn’t particularly entertaining but there was no way in hell that it’d be him to speak first.

Alfred just should have listened to him and none of this shit would have happened, as far as Arthur was concerned. He knew it was a little far-fetched, but really, it was annoying seeing Alfred do this sort of thing frequently because he had to be the hero and have the solution to everything. Clearly it had particularly annoyed Arthur today.

Alfred had no idea how much time passed since their car engine burnt out but soon he decided to give up.

"Look...I'm s--" He paused when he saw another car coming up and he couldn't help but visible relax. "Thank God. They're here."

With a small smile, he stood up to greet the man from the AAA, helping him grab the tools. "Thanks so much. We're travelling all the way back up to New York so thanks for coming in a timely manner. Need help with anythin'?"

Soon enough Alfred and the man started talking, sharing some laughs and exchanging some jokes as they began to work on the engine. It was a good while later that they finally fixed everything up and Alfred just sighed in relief, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Thanks! Honestly! Come on Arthur. We can get home now." He was given an confused look by the man but he was quick to get into the driver's seat so they could head back home.

Arthur grunted at the arrival of the repair guy. A grunt of happiness, perhaps?

He just kept out of the way, let Alfred enjoy the company of the bloke and pretended he didn’t exist so that he wouldn’t have to talk. He got through several cigarettes and had to stub the last one out having not finished it before being called to the car. He was just relieved to be leaving. He could already tell that the nape of his neck and his face were sunburnt.

He chose not to comment on it.

Arthur murmured his thanks to the stranger before getting back into the car. He licked his lips, tasting the last of the nicotine, knowing that it’d be his last one for a few weeks. He tried to savour it.

Alfred saw the few cigarettes that Arthur had gone through but he decided not to say anything about it. Instead he ran a hand through his hair, buckling himself up and waiting for Arthur to get inside before driving off.

Thank God. They also fixed a few of the other problems that they had seen so he was certain that there was no chance of it breaking down again.

He was still rather tired and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Only a few more hours of driving and they would be back home. He didn't want to keep on fighting. They were both irritated and needed to calm down and fix things between them.

But it was hard to get the apology out of his lips.

Arthur didn’t try to say anything lest he made it worse. And he knew that if he did open his mouth, it was unlikely to be something good that came out. He didn’t want to make the situation any more tense and so was just silent, looking ahead at the road.

He closed his eyes, soon feeling himself beginning to doze again. He just felt peculiar and washed out, it wasn’t nice. It was kind of like a sick feeling, which made him believe that he didn’t need any food or drink.

Arthur was sort of curled up a bit as he slept, this hair beginning to stick to his face from the heat.

Alfred quietly glanced over at Arthur as he slept and he reached over to lightly stroke his hair before pulling his hand away.

"Sorry," He mumbled despite knowing that Arthur was sleeping and definitely couldn't hear him. How pathetic was he? He couldn't even apologise when Arthur was awake. Hopefully things would calm down though after they got home.

It was a long journey for Alfred but soon they got into New York and the familiarity of it all relaxed him. He was able to quickly drive towards their home and he soon parked at the parking lot, glancing over at Arthur. Soon he lightly shook him awake.

"Hey Arthur. We're home. Wake up sleepy head."

Arthur grimaced as he felt himself being pulled from sleep yet again. He blinked blearily once, twice at Alfred and then rubbed at his eyes, trying to focus. His mouth felt dry and his entire body ached. Doubtless, he probably stank, too. Not that Alfred smelt much better.

He exhaled heavily, moving sleepily as he looked across at Alfred. He felt like he should apologise. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t in his nature.

“Let’s get the bags, eh?” he murmured and shakily got up, out of the car. He felt all warm and not-really-awake and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. It had been blissful. He stifled a yawn as he looked inside the boot, grabbing one of the bags.

Alfred just gave him a small, hesitant smile before going to the boot of the car and grabbing a few bags before finally fiddling with the flat keys. Content at that, he soon hurried up into the lift so they could get back home. It was really, really nice to be able to finally go and lay down in the bed.

Maybe they really could put everything behind them after they had a good meal and a nice long sleep. That would definitely make them less cranky.

Though as he walked towards their door, he couldn't help but frown when he saw a very familiar man in front of his flat.

"Mr Kirkland?"

Arthur trudged along behind him, still trying his hardest not to yawn. He couldn’t wait to just sleep. Although he was beginning to feel hungry, he felt as though that could wait. When Alfred stopped outside his apartment, Arthur sort of walking into him from behind and tried to make it seem intentional as he pressed his forehead between Alfred’s shoulder blades.

“What?” he groaned, unaware of the fact that his senior, his father, was stood before them. The said man was in a smart, pressed suit and had a suitcase.

“What the devil have you been doing?” the older man asked sceptically, looking closely at Alfred and then Arthur. It was not often that his son looked like that, let alone the fact that they both looked hot. And they had luggage.

Arthur jumped to attention at the sound of his father’s voice and peeked around Alfred before scuttling to stand at his side, back straight.

“Father… um, dad, what are you doing here?” he asked nervously. Arthur just hoped that it wasn’t…

“To visit, of course.”

Of course.

“O-oh… you, uh, didn’t phone.”

“I did. I couldn’t contact you so I decided that I might as well find you myself. Quite a coincidence that you’re coming back from your holidays the day I arrive, however,” he frowned at their bags, not a Louis Vuitton like his own. “Tell me, where did you go?” he didn’t sound interested at all.