To Serve And Protect. [R18]

"Pity," Arthur commented mildly. "Football's a good game." He found himself smiling again at Alfred's boisterous laughter.  He could almost compare the man to a child, but that wouldn't be entirely correct. Alfred was more like a man who hadn't lost sight of the simple pleasures in life. Arthur envied him that. 

"No, no," he said quickly in response, turning away to hide his flushed cheeks. "It's quite all right. I'm just a lot paler than you are, so the heat makes me appear redder more easily." It was the truth, but it wasn't why he was blushing. Having all of Alfred's attention on him made him feel... Happy. He lifted a hand to shade his face from the sun, hoping that it would help with his flush. 

Arthur allowed himself to be tugged towards the field, staring at the broadness of Alfred's shoulders and strands of sunny blonde hair tickling the back of his neck the way their fingers interlocked, rather than at the stands. "To be honest, I've never understood the rules," he confessed when they'd reached the stands. "It doesn't make much sense to me."

"Maybe I'll give it a try sometime then." Alfred says with a shrug of his shoulders. It couldn't be to bad. It involved a lot of running right? He liked to run, it could work.

"Alright, well just speak up if you want to go somewhere else." Although he is rather sure that if Arthur is that annoyed with anything that he could vocalize his opinion. He wasn't loud all the time but Alfred knew by now that he certainly had a way of making his preferences known. All the same he still leads them to a shady corner of the stands, somewhere near closer to the top.

He tries to think of a good way to explain the game but he doesn't come up with much. He wasn't eloquent with his words all the time unfortunately. "You see, they line up and hike the ball, then the guy over there has to throw it." He gestures to the players on the field. "Then the other guy has to catch it and run as far as he can while everyone's trying to stop him, which they usually do eventually. The clock stops and they do it all over again." He looks to Arthur to see if that cleared up any questions he had about the game. It was a pretty clear explanation he thought.

Hiking the ball? A clock that stops? Arthur frowned as he tried to digest the onslaught of information. It still wasn't making much sense to him.  "... Never mind," he said eventually. "I don't think I'll ever understand it. Can't they pass to each other? It's like rugby, isn't it?" Rugby was good. Rugby made sense. Arthur peered down at the players on the field, wincing as two men collided solidly. "Brutal sport," he muttered. "How many bones did you break while playing this in high school, pray tell?"

He leaned back a bit in his seat, enjoying the coolness of the shade. It was still hot though. He was full and warm and Arthur felt himself becoming sleepy. He could almost wish that this was their real lives. Cheering erupted on the field and Arthur glanced down with half-lidded eyes disinterestedly. That's when he realised that he hadn't let go of Alfred's hand, but he really didn't want to. And if Alfred wasn't complaining then maybe Arthur could clasp his hand a little while longer. 

"Yeah they pass sometimes." Alfred answers as he gazes at the field. "What's rugby?" The American didn't seem deterred at all when the two men collided, in fact he seemed to cheer. He stopped to think about Arthur's question though. "Um, I broke a leg once and messed up my arm pretty bad one time. Nothing too bad though." In fact now that he thought about it, hadn't one of his teammates had his vision messed up from a tackle once. He seemed to recall that the guy got better though, so that was good news.

Alfred did the opposite, leaning forwards in his seat, resting his chin on his elbow. He cheered when a team scored but otherwise kept his gaze to the field. Now this was relaxing he thought. His barely registered that he still had his hands linked with Arthur's, it had become nearly second nature so quickly. A thought occurred to him a moment later though and his eyes scanned the field for a second before settling on a group of cheerleaders near the edge of the field.

"Rugby?" Arthur thought about his answer for a moment before replying. "Well there's rugby union and rugby league, I'm more familiar with league though. It's sort of similar to this, where you have to score tries by touching the ball to the ground past the try line. If you get tackled, you have to pass the ball back to a dummy-half, who can pass it backwards or run forward with it. If your team gets tackled six times with the ball, it gets passed to the other team, so most people kick the ball forward after five tackles." He wasn't sure how else to explain it. Rugby was just... Rugby. Though that was probably how Alfred felt about gridiron. 

"'Nothing too bad'?" he repeated, feeling an urge to slap himself. "You really are unbelievable." Back in secondary school  Arthur had been the studious type. He'd been a prefect with high marks, who somehow still had time to play football. Actually, back then he'd loved the manly idea of playing rugby with the other blokes, but he'd always been too slight of build for his mother to allow it. He was small, but he was also fast, so he'd opted for football instead.

Arthur felt Alfred's attention slip away from him and onto something down on the field. He followed the American's gaze down to the busty, somewhat scantily clad girls cheering on the side of the field. Unconsciously, his hold on Alfred's hand tightened and he felt annoyance steadily rising to the surface. Those stupid bints!

"See, now that just sounded like a bunch of gibberish to me." Alfred replies on the topic of rugby. "but if they're tackling involved I'm sure it's fun enough." He answers, not taking his eyes off the field.

He turns back around as he feels his hand being squeezed and gives Arthur a blank look. "Hmm? Did you say something about me being unbelievable?" He laughs his obliviousness off, having not caught all of what Arthur had said as his attention had wondered elsewhere but was now focused back on the two of them now.

He had been looking between the cheerleaders and the football players thinking about something that had been lingering in his head. Whatever it was, he had obviously not found the answer to it but seemed content to drop the thought in favor of listening to Arthur again.

He occasionally glances back over, checking the score or field positions but leans back now against the stands, resting his head on the seat behind him, glasses falling down his nose but he didn't bother to correct them as he could see fine looking downwards this way.

"No, no, nothing," Arthur muttered. Well, at least Alfred wasn't looking at those girls anymore, right? Arthur stared down at their entwined hands and frowned. Why was it such a big deal to him, anyway? Or more importantly, what was so good about those girls? Arthur glared down at the cheerleaders, taking in their too-short skirts and swishy high ponytails and overly-emphasised breasts. Those stupid girls didn't know the first thing about seduction. Students probably wanked to the thought of them, but when it came to Arthur, oh, grown men and women alike would be able to think of no one and nothing else. A bitter smile tugged at his lips but he forced it away, not wanting to ruin a perfectly good afternoon with Alfred. No, they weren't supposed to be working right now, although technically they were. He gripped Alfred's hand a little harder.

"How far into the game do you think they are?" he asked. He could see Alfred sneaking glances down there again, probably at those girls. Each time he caught Alfred glancing down, his brow furrowed a little bit more. He didn't know why he was getting so annoyed -- Alfred had every right to look at girls. For all Arthur knew, the American wasn't gay, or even bi. But he felt like yanking his hand away from Alfred's and shouting, Look at me, I'm sitting right here beside you!

But no, that would be ridiculous, so he bit his lip and crossed his other arm across his stomach, loosely hugging himself.

Alfred looks like he is contemplating again, eyes rather distant even though he is supposed to be looking down at the scoreboard. He snaps out of it when Arthur squeezes his hand once more causing the boy yo wince slightly more in surprise then pain. He quickly shakes his head and checks the score for real this time.

"There's four minutes left on the clock so like fifteen minutes left of the game?" He estimates, scratching his head.

When he turns to look at Arthur again that familiar concern is there again. "Something wrong?" He asks. "You look like you got ants in your pants or somethin'?" Before the other can quite answer though he looks slightly alarmed. "Oh, I'm sorry! Do you not like watching football? Do you wanna go somewhere else instead?" Alfred knew he had a bad habit of forgetting to take other's into consideration sometimes. Not that he ever meant to leave them out, he just gets absentminded. The last thing he wanted to do however, was make Arthur sit there with him if he'd rather be somewhere else.

"There is nothing in my pants that is not supposed to be in there," Arthur said indignantly, scowling. "And no, it's not the gridiron, I just..." wish that you would stop ogling those girls when we're supposed to be together, even if we are pretending! Arthur turned his face away, trying to not appear like he was sulking. For goodness' sake, there was no need to be sulking! He was a grown man, and they weren't dating. 

"Fancy those birds down there, do you?" he asked, attempting to sound casual. He refused to meet Alfred's eyes, instead focussing on the cement between his feet. "It's all right, the game's almost done. We may as well wait it out."

Alfred has to hold a hand over his mouth to keep from chuckling at Arthur's reply but it doesn't last long before he's serious again. "Just?" He echos unable to read the other's expression for some reason. Whatever it was he seemed really upset over even if he was trying to hide it.

"Birds?" He asks for a split second glancing back own at the field. "I don't see any..oh!" He says getting it finally. "The cheerleaders? Yeah, I was looking at them but I was looking at everyone down there, ya know." He says although a slight flush makes it way into his cheeks. What was he supposed to tell Arthur, that he was trying to figure out if he still thought girls were attractive. Not that he thought his partner was attractive, or so he told himself. No, he was completely straight and looking at cheerleaders was normal, he was in no way trying to make up for the strange feeling he got with their hands still laced together.

"If you want." Alfred says, "I can tell from the score that we'll probably win anyways."

Arthur tugged his hand away harshly. The stupid git hadn't even had the decency to fib about looking at those girls! And 'looking at everyone' -- did that mean that he was ogling some of the players too? Arthur wasn't sure which was worse: to sit here while Alfred looked at girls, or to sit here while Alfred looked at other men.  The American was even blushing!

"If you fancy them so much," he said, scowling, "why don't you go down there and talk to them?" He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "I'm sure they'd all fall over themselves to get a shot at you."

Arthur knew that he was easily made jealous. He also knew that he could be terribly, terribly insecure. What he absolutely could not understand right now was why all those feelings were crashing over him like a wave when it was his partner. He wondered if Alfred was simply hinting that he didn't approve of the roles they had to play. Maybe he would have been happier to do it if Arthur had been more attractive. 

"You can stay and drool some more," he said, not looking at Alfred. He was being ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. They weren't even together. Arthur wasn't supposed to mean anything to his partner. "I won't be here to spoil the view."

Alfred's expression dropped as Arthur pulled his hand away. He didn't see what the big deal was, he had just been watching the game, it wasn't like he had been undressing anyone with his eyes. He wasn't even sure why he was blushing. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

As soon as Arthur stood up Alfred knew he was going to try and leave. "Why would I do that? I was just watching, it's not like I want to go down and be friends with any of them." He looks a little offended. "And what do you mean fall over themselves? Was that supposed to be sarcastic cause that's...that's low." He trails off looking down.

Did it really look like he was that full of himself or was that just how Arthur saw him. He felt like an idiot now. Maybe Arthur was upset that he was ruining their cover. He didn't want to mess anything up.

"Hey, don't go!" Alfred says going to put a hand on Arthur's shoulder but stopping himself. " I wasn't drooling!" He retorts looking rather upset.

"No," he replied, turning away. "Not sarcastic. Of course they'd want a shot at you. You're..." he trailed off. What was wrong with him? This was absolutely ridiculous. Ridiculous. Fuck. Bloody fuck. Arthur gritted his teeth together. "You know what? Never mind. Just watch your game."

He turned slightly to glance at the taller blond when Alfred told him not to go. He could hear the upset tone in the American's voice, which for some reason upset him too, so he relented. Spinning around fully, Arthur grabbed Alfred's hand again. "Does this upset you? You'd rather be down there with them, right? We don't have to continue this if you'd rather not. I'm sure we could stage a perfectly believable breakup."

"I'm What? You make it sound like I"m some sort of teen idol." Alfred complains knowing that couldn't be the case at all. He barely knew anyone here, he doubted anyone would be throwing themselves at him just because of his moderately good looks.

" I don't understand why your mad?" he says the stress obvious in his voice. He's trying he really is. He thinks that Arthur will stomp away now and perhaps he will chase after him again.

It is a big surprise when instead Arthur grabs his hand again, it doesn't feel like before though. It's rather harsh and startles him. "What are you going on about? If I wanted to go down there then I would have. Holding your hand doesn't upset me, if it did I wouldn't have sit here holding it this entire time." He falters through his words now, lowering his voice. "Arthur..We're pretending to be a couple for a reason. You don't want to get harassed by weird guys again, right?" Alfred didn't want to let them anywhere near Arthur either.

Alfred suddenly brings his other hand up to his face, slapping his own forehead. "We're..We're bickering like a real couple. I can't believe it."

"If you can't see it then you must be stupid!" Arthur snapped. How dare that stupid, stupid American fish for compliments from him! He must have known how attractive he was, and yet... "You really don't understand?" Arthur asked suspiciously, eyeing the other blond. "Really?" He knew that he was being silly, and selfish and difficult as soon as Alfred spoke. The American's tone of voice spoke volumes.  

"No," he agreed in a small voice, staring at the ground again. "No, I don't wish to be harassed again. That's the reason, isn't it? That we're holding hands like this." It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement. He allowed his hand to fall limp in the other's grasp, no longer gripping the large, calloused hand tightly. Arthur glanced down and saw quite a few of the people sitting near them now turning around to stare at them, so he did the first thing he could think of. 

"Alfred!" he gasped in an obviously mock-scandalised tone. "That's inappropriate behaviour, you know. I shan't stand for that kind of touching in public," he leaned in, brushing a hand lightly against Alfred's cheek, "but if you take me back to the dorm quickly, I may change my mind."

Predictably, the other students weren't really interested in a blatant show of affection and turned away again. Arthur sighed in relief. "Yes," he answered Alfred's statement wistfully. "We really are, aren't we?"

Alfred was hurt at being called stupid, but he tried his hardest to hide it. "R-really..If you've got a problem, I wish you'd just straight up tell me what it is so I could fix it." He felt a little embarrassed saying that as it could lead to a lot of things but it was true. They were partners, he wanted them to get along.

He takes a much needed breath as Arthur seems to calm down. He grips his hand tighter as the hold goes lax, trying to be supportive in the only way he can think of. He knows people are staring but he can't quite bring himself to care until Arthur is suddenly very close again.

Catching on quickly enough Alfred replies. "When you say things like that, how can I not." Before he can second guess himself or hear any protests, he scoops up Arthur in his arms and heads out of the stands. The game was practically over anyways and it would do good for show if they left now. "We were..funny huh." He gives a weak laugh because he can't decide whether it is ironic or..strangely sad.

Arthur liked being angry. It was the perfect defence mechanism. Inflict maximum verbal damage in a short period of time without listening to any replies. Anger kept him from being hurt and gave his slight frame that needed extra adrenaline in a tight situation. But for some reason, he couldn't stay angry with Alfred.  The American seemed too oblivious, too honest and naive, too kind and caring. Too genuine.  

Arthur clung to Alfred with a small, startled cry when the other suddenly scooped him up. It felt nice, to be pressed this closely against someone. He smiled dreamily up at Alfred's face until they were out of sight of the crowds, then let his expression drop. "Funny, huh?" he muttered. 

"Aren't I heavy?" he asked awkwardly when they were mostly alone. He didn't want to discuss his strange feelings of jealousy earlier.  "You... You didn't have to carry me, you know." But he made no struggle to be put back down. 

Much to Alfred's surprise, Arthur didn't immediately try to kick him in the shins for picking him up. He had expected the man to put of some kind of a fight but instead he just looked up at him with that expression that nearly knocked the American off his feet. Then again maybe that was the plan, making him trip and drop him with that damn near affectionate expression.

That all changed quickly though once they were out of sight. Arthur's expression changed and the spell was broke. Alfred shook his own head to reorganize his thoughts.

"Not really." Alfred replies to the question posed to him. "and I know I don't, but I thought it made a good show. Plus, I've always wanted to do that to someone." He slows his walking, he wasn't sure where he had been headed to anyways. He had just walked in the first logical direction when he left the stadium. "I'll let you down though, if it bothers you." He says finally, speaking more quietly. It was true that his partner was not heavy but the effort made him tired, especially after the whole day's events.

Arthur wondered if this was how Alfred treated the people he really dated. Was he as gentle and loving, with soft caresses and kind words? No, he was probably even nicer to them, even more sweet and -- and real. Alfred was just acting right now. Arthur understood that. But it didn't stop the flush that spread across his cheeks every time Alfred even looked at him, even if it was with false affection.  

"Yes," he said quietly, feeling strangely defeated. " Let me down. Perhaps you should go back to the dormitory. I need to go..." berate myself for starting to become attached, what the bloody hell am I thinking?! "... Do something."

As Alfred set him down, Arthur felt a pang of guilt. The American had sounded so upset and confused earlier, while Arthur was snapping at something that wouldn't have been an issue. "Maybe you can think about where you want to have dinner," he offered tentatively, wondering just how upset Alfred was. It was strange to hear him speaking in such a subdued manner. Even though they'd only known each other for a few days, Alfred seemed the boisterous, energetic type. 

Arthur spied a mop of white hair coming towards them and quickly grabbed Alfred's hand, hissing, "Gilbert!" He schooled his expression into one of loving contentment and pulled their hands up, brushing his lips across the back of Alfred's knuckles as Gilbert reached them. 

"Fuck," the albino said as a greeting, grinning wickedly, "you guys are really gay, even for gay guys."

Alfred does as he is requested and sets Arthur back down on his feet, only letting go when he is sure that he has his balance right. "Oh?..Well, alright if you say so." He brights up at the mention of dinner though. "Oh! Ok, or you could pick dinner, since I sorta picked lunch." He suggests. Left up to him, he would probably pick burgers again but he had the feeling Arthur might want something different.

Lost in thought Alfred almost missed having his hand taken again until he felt something on it and looked over to see what Arthur was doing. Seconds after he clued into Gilbert's appearance and both realizations made his chest and heart do flips. "B-babe, He's making fun of us!" He says, a hint of a whine in his voice as he hears what the albino says. "besides..What's wrong with that?" He asks pouting defensively and spinning his arms around until he can get them around Arthur's waist while keeping their hand's connected.

Was it just his imagination or did this arms fit around the smaller man perfectly. He'd never felt this right, hugging any girls close and yet his partner..his male undercover police partner seemed to have all the right places for his hands to fit comfortably there.

Arthur leaned his head back against his partner's shoulder and smirked. "He's just jealous of us, love. Wishes he could join us."

"Hell yeah," Gilbert agreed eagerly. "I'd tap either of you any day. Unless you're proposing a threesome? Then I'd get you both."

"While that does sound enjoyable, I don't get hard for just anyone," Arthur purred, licking his lower lip. "It takes someone... Special." He tilted his head back, meeting Alfred's gaze and silently showing his annoyance. 

"How about a foursome? Your ass is begging for a DP, Arty--"

"Don't call me that!" Arthur growled, but it went ignored. 

"Maybe mister boyfriend there -- Al, is it? I didn't know you were a four-eyes -- and I can take your ass and Francis can take your mouth. Or Alfy there can take it up the ass too. What d'ya say?"

"I'm afraid we must decline," Arthur replied in a controlled, level voice. "Alfred doesn't bottom."

"I don't either. Francis might--"

"How is Francis?" Arthur interrupted firmly. Why did the stupid albino and company keep sexually harassing him?! He could understand all the people last night, but he wasn't wearing anything even the tiniest bit provocative right now! Maybe he just looked like an easy target. Or just easy. "Antonio said he was in hospital."

Gilbert immediately sobered. "He's doing okay. I was there earlier, they said he'd be fine. Administration is pretty pissed at me, but they can't prove that I did anything. Not that I did. Lizzie is insane." His face brightened. "I heard you got the spiked drinks," he said. "Damn, I would've liked to see you two horny and going at it!"

Alfred immediately didn't like where this conversation was going. This guy was just so vulgar. When Arthur looked back up at him, he returned the annoyed glance.
He wasn't sure what a DP was either but he really didn't think he wanted to know.

Alfred looks up as he is addressed though and makes a face at the four eyes comment. He didn't want to be called named, let along by this guy. Before he can say anything though Arthur has the snippy retorts covered. All the while he keeps his grip on him, daring Gilbert to try any of those gross things he's talking about while he is here.

Despite all this he is glad to hear that Francis is doing alright. He didn't wish for anyone to get hurt and his call to the police the night before had been all but a blur as that had been when the fight had broke out.

"Oh yeah, you missed soo much." Alfred says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. In fact, after seeing the girl berate him, he hadn't seen where the albino had gone off too, then again he had spent a good amount of time after that knocked out. He preferred not to remember it.

"What," Gilbert goaded, "didn't you get any last night?" He paused and studied their faces. "Dude, everyone was fucking last night. You must be one unlucky bastard! Arty here seems touchy-feely enough."

Arthur scowled and gripped Alfred's hands firmly in case the American went on an uncharacteristic murderous rampage. Or maybe not so uncharacteristic, considering the way he took on Ivan Braginsky the previous night.  "Let's please stop talking about our sex life," he said primly, "unless you'd rather never father children."

"Ooh," the German said to Alfred, "scary, isn't he? Was he scarier when high on the stuff that bastard put in the drinks? I bet he was. Fuck, he would have been wild."

Arthur gripped his partner's hands harder, this time trying to prevent himself from lunging forward and ripping out the stupid German's throat. He knew that Gilbert wasn't being serious about any of it -- or maybe he was, and the only thing holding him back was Alfred's presence. But anyway, he seemed to be more of a vulgar joker than anything else. Irritating, but harmless. 

Arthur nudged Alfred's side with an elbow, trying to get him to play the concerned boyfriend who wanted to know what his lover had been doped up on, and who was responsible. Come on, take the lead.

Alfred takes the hint, the thing is though he didn't have to try very hard to pretend to be concerned. He really had been worried.

"He did act rather unusual and I for lucky enough not to get any of the stuff, so I ended up taking him back to our dorm." That was half true at least. He left out the part where Arthur actually had to drag him back half unconscious. The principle was the same.

He gives Gilbert as friendly and hopeful a look as he can bring out. "I mean, What was that stuff anyways? Seems like a really cruel joke to play when people can get hurt." He nuzzles the side of Arthur's mop of hair protectively. "I'm sure you understand, after all. I mean.." He gulped trying to push the words out. "I like fucking as much as the next guy but I don't want what happened to Francis to happen to Arthur,. or anyone else for that matter."

There was truth in this as well. Last nights events could have been traumatic to anyone who was there, not just the unlucky ones. "Do drinks get spiked that often at the parties you go to? You said you didn't do it, so it must be someone else, got any idea who the asshole might be?"

He felt dirty just cussing so casually, and at the same time he hoped he wasn't asking too many questions. Questions that had to be asked anyways or they'd really start to get no where.

"So you had him drugged and at your mercy, and you still managed to not fuck?" Gilbert asked, caught somewhere between being impressed and ridiculing. "Your dick must not be awesome enough."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but laughed when he felt the American nuzzling against his hair. It tickled and Alfred's warm breath on his ear sent a blush dancing across his cheeks. His eyes widened slightly as he heard his partner swear so casually -- it didn't sound right coming from Alfred. 

"Eh, there's a couple of different ones going around the place right now. The one last night was 'Red Queen', it basically makes you real horny, so much that the longer you leave your hard-on alone, the more painful it gets and eventually you pretty much lose your mind and you'll do anything to get off." He paused, considering the two of them. "I hope you fucked him good and hard," he told Alfred, "it's way more effective than jerking off. Less painful, too. Anyway, what happened to Francis was kinda weird, it's never affected him that badly before. It gets used around here pretty often, so we probably all need more of it to get the same effects."

"So someone keeps increasing the amount that goes into the drinks?" Arthur clarified, playing absently with Alfred's thumb nail. Alfred liked fucking? Well of course he did. But what did he like to fuck?

"Exactly. Seriously, have you guys been recluses up until now? Or did you only go to the good boy parties? You guys are so lucky it was 'Red Queen' and not 'Alice' last night. The Asians tend to favour 'Alice', they say 'Red Queen' is too tame for them. Personally I just reckon they're immune to it now, so they go for the stronger one. It was one of them last night though. Not sure which one, they all look the same to me."

Gilbert looked at them now, a strange glint in his eye. "How can you guys not know any of this stuff? How long have you been living on campus? Even Tonio knows about all this, and he's the most oblivious fucker ever."