A Lovely Day for Lunch [ Alfred ]

It was early in the day, just past noon, and it was bright outside. A day like this could only put Arthur in a good mood. Currently, his only problem was hunger. Now, he had two options. One, he could cook for himself, or two, he could go out to eat. As much as he liked cooking, he wasn't sure he should risk burning down his kitchen. Plus, it would ruin his good mood. Deciding it was just better to go out, he went and grabbed his coat - just in case it was chilly - along with his two cell phones, one for work and his personal phone.

Looking at his phone, he suddenly recalled his meeting with Alfred. It had been about a week since that night, and Arthur hadn't thought much of it. He had woken up the next morning and read Alfred's reply text, not at all amused by being called a 'cat boy'. Perhaps that was the reason he had put the encounter out of his mind until now. He did remember that he offered to buy lunch for the man. He wondered if he should just get it over with, while he was in a good enough mood to put up with another person. Flipping open his phone, he sent a quick text message to The Hero. 'Is it a bad time to offer to buy you lunch?'

Message sent, he continued his way out the door and out of his apartment building. There was a nice little diner that wasn't too far from his building. He would head there, and give Alfred the address if he needed it. He walked with a smile on his face, hoping his good mood would last through the day.

Alfred stared outside through the window, envying everyone who could be in the sunlight instead of sitting through a boring lecture. Really, he loved Biochemistry as much as everyone here, but did they have to go through the same thing for the third time? This everyone 'was equal, no one is better than anyone, so let's wait for the stupid people to understand it too' was getting on his nerves.

And he was starving. He woke up a bit late this morning, which meant that he had to choose: break the traffic rules by going over the speed limit, which wasn't exactly advisable, or skip breakfast. Now, he cursed himself for not going with option three and simply skip his first class of the day. He stared at the bell wistfully, tempted to just hack into the school's system and make the bell go off earlier.

He could feel his phone vibrating for s short moment in his pocket, signaling an incoming text message. After a quick glance at his Professor, Alfred took his phone out and opened the text from James. He could feel the corners of his mouth quirking upward. He quickly typed his response and went back to staring at the bell, now even more impatient to finally leave the classroom. 'class ends in 2 min. whre do u wanna meet? :)'

Arthur hadn't gone far before he received a reply from Alfred. He couldn't help but frown and raise an (impressive) eyebrow at the message. He sent Alfred the name of the diner, tacking on a 'And I think you need a lesson in spelling.' to the end of the message. Unfortunately, he didn't think saying it would actually make Alfred spell out his words. What was it about teenagers that made them believe it was okay to use such atrocious grammar? With a sigh, he closed his phone and shoved it into one of his trouser pockets.

Continuing to make his way to the diner, Arthur hummed quietly. His mood was still wonderful, despite thinking about people and their bad grammar. He glanced to the side when he noticed a small shop selling flowers. Figuring it would take Alfred a while yet to get out of his class and actually head toward the diner, he thought it would be okay to stop and look around a bit.

There were many beautiful flowers in the shop. Oh how he was tempted to buy some for himself, just to have a nice decoration in his otherwise dull apartment. If he wasn't about to head off to meet Alfred, he would have bought some. He was sure it would only look awkward if he was to show up to the diner with a bouquet. Arthur snickered at the thought. It would definitely throw Alfred off, but he didn't quite feel up to messing with anyone's head today. Shrugging, he started to make his way away from the shop. Perhaps on his way home, he would buy some flowers.

Yes! Alfred could barely keep his exclamation of joy inside. The bell, that beautiful, lovely, delightful, awesome bell finally rang! With speed quite unusual for a normal person, he threw his books and stationery into his bag and leapt over the desk, making a mad dash towards the door. Freedom! He continued running outside, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

He nodded slightly to himself, knowing where the diner was. It was only about five minutes away from here. He grinned at the comment about his spelling, finding it funny. He texted back 'y txtspeak bothering u? :P u can try 2 teahc me proper spelling when we meet, k? :3'. He snickered at the text, figuring it would make James even more annoyed.

He really should have looked at the path instead of his phone. With a resounding 'thud', Alfred ran face first into a lamppost, falling on his butt from the impact, making several people laugh at the comical sight. He blinked at the thing he had run into, the pain not registering in his mind yet. Did he just seriously run into a lamppost? A lamppost? He thought people only did that in movies! He couldn't help wincing when the pain finally kicked in. Damn it, that was totally going to bruise! Alfred touched his forehead slightly, shuddering at the stab of pain the action gave him. Yeah, it was going to be black in about an hour. At least his glasses survived.

After that, he managed to make his way to the parking lot without another accident. He put on that annoying helmet, hating the way it felt on his head, but it was a traffic rule to wear it, and rules weren't broken either. He took off towards the diner, minding his speed, although he wanted nothing more than to go over the speed limit and make good of all the horsepower his bike had.

Just as he had predicted, he made it there in five minutes. He left his bike by the side of the road, not in the least bit worried about someone stealing it, and went inside the diner, looking around for a familiar blond head.

Flowerless, Arthur arrived at the diner and stood outside for a moment. He wondered if he should go in now, or wait outside for Alfred. Pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time, he noticed that he had a new message from The Hero. Odd, he couldn't remember hearing the tone go off to indicate that he had a message. Silently he cursed technology for being unreliable, and opened the message. He couldn't help but snicker at the message, shaking his head. He replied with, 'Alright, but I'm warning you: I'm a strict teacher.'

Guessing that it would still be a few minutes until Alfred arrived, Arthur decided to wait inside the diner. It would be best if he found a seat now, that way he could order a drink while he waited. He happened to know that this particular diner served hot tea- it wasn't the best, but it would do. He chose a booth to sit in, one in a corner, and he sat facing the door. Usually he wasn't so particular about where he sat, but he happened to know that one of the Elite's cameras was in this corner, covering a wide area of the diner. A wide area, but this seat, along with a few others nearby, was hidden. It wouldn't have mattered normally, but today he was so sure that he would be mocked for being on a 'date' ( because the other Elites could be so childish sometimes ) with Alfred. Especially because this definitely was not a date.

He had been served his tea, and now he had nothing to do but wait. Staring at the door could seem creepy if Alfred noticed right away, so he chose to stare at the wall next to him instead. And he was mesmerized by the checkered tiles there. Mostly because he desired to count how many black tiles were in the space that the entire booth took up. He kept glancing up at the door during his counting, sometimes losing track of which tile he was on and having to start over. Unfortunately, he had to give up counting when Alfred finally arrived. Knowing that he was probably hard to spot sitting in the back like this, he waved, hoping to catch the other's attention.

Alfred could see some movement from the corner of his eyes. He looked over to a far-away corner, finding the unkempt blond hair and bushy eyebrows he had been searching for. He waved back and made his way over, clutching his helmet with a hand. He could have left it outside, no one would have tried to steal it of course, but he didn't want it to accidentally fall on the pavement. The last time he left his helmet outside it fell and stayed on the ground for around few hours.

It was too bad no one ever told ants that invading something was considered a crime. He shuddered at the memory. He loved animals, he really did, but having an army of ants in your hair was...not comfortable. Shaking off the not too pleasant memory, Alfred sat down in front of James, grinning at him. "Hey, sorry for making you wait, Jamie. What's up?" After he was done with his greeting, he couldn't help but sweep his eyes over the room reflexively, looking like he was merely trying to find the waiter, while he was actually trying to guess the locations of the cameras. They were small and pretty well hidden, but sometimes a loose ray of sunshine was reflected on their lenses, giving away their position. He always put his guards even more firmly up when he knew he was being filmed.

Seeing that he had caught Alfred's attention, Arthur lowered his hand and moved to grab his teacup for a drink. He had placed the cup back on the table by the time Alfred sat across from him, and he looked up at the other with a smile. And then a questioning look when he noticed the bike helmet. Why would Alfred have a bike helmet? Well, because he probably needed it on his way here, of course, but why bring it inside the diner? Yet, Arthur didn't care enough to actually ask why.

Instead, he would just return the greeting. "Don't worry, I haven't been waiting long." At least, he didn't think so. Those tiles had been so damn distracting. "Nothing much. It's a nice day out, though." Just thinking about it was putting him in a good mood again - not that he had lost his good mood. Now it was just better than before. "And how are you today?"

He noticed Alfred looking around and assumed he was just looking for a waiter. Or waitress, as it had been a woman who served Arthur his tea earlier. Spotting the girl, he waved her over to their table. Unsure yet what he wanted to eat, despite the fact that he came here all the time and usually ordered the same thing, he requested that she bring him a menu. He looked at Alfred and waited for him to speak to the waitress.

He shrugged. "Not bad, I guess. Same old, same old." Boring lectures, talking with classmates, walking into a lamppost... He rubbed his forehead at that absentmindedly, wincing at the sharp jab of pain at the action. Damn, this was so going to be black shortly.

Alfred spared the menu a glance and started chatting with the waitress animatedly. She was a pretty girl and, by the looks of things, she was a friendly type too. They exchanged name, age, talked about the weather and their hobbies in a few words when the girl said she needed to get back to her work, so if they could place their order she would be grateful.

That was when Alfred realized that James hadn't said anything for a while. He looked at the smaller blond with a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, Jamie. You ready to order?" He grinned at the waitress. "A coke and a double cheese with extra ketchup and fries with mayonnaise. Thanks~"

After the girl went back to her work, he turned back his full attention to his companion. "And how's your demon-cat? Still as friendly as a week ago?" He said, snickering at the end. A cat that grumpy and protective of its owner was both very cute and very funny.

Arthur glanced at Alfred's forehead as he rubbed it, raising a brow at the obvious discoloration there. "What happened to your head?" From it's location, he had to guess that it came from either someone throwing something hard at Alfred's head, or he walked straight into a pole. Part of him hoped it wasn't the latter, because it would only sadden him to know that there were people stupid enough to actually do that in this world.

Quiet, he observed Alfred as he spoke to the waitress. He was clearly the social type, which didn't surprise Arthur at all. He took a sip of his tea, still watching them, as they exchanged words. He knew that the waitress needed to get back to work, and so he was curious to see how long she would continue talking. Perhaps he noticed him watching, because it wasn't long after he thought it that she said she needed to take their orders and go.

In the years that he had lived in New York, he had learnt to tolerate the food that was offered in the city. None of it was as good as anything he had while living in England ( although people kept telling him that the food there was awful. He wondered where they had eaten to think such a thing ). Everything was just so... greasy. It was unavoidable, unfortunately, and so he tried to avoid ordering anything that just sounded greasy. Like Alfred's meal. "I'll just have a chicken salad." Although the chicken was somewhat greasy, the 'salad' part made up for it.

Looking at Alfred, he tipped his head just a bit. "Winston? He's fine. And yes, just as 'friendly'." Some things would never change. Winston's personality was one of those things.

...Damn, it was visible already? Alfred had never wished he was a woman as much as he did now. Now that he thought of it, he never wished to be a woman, period. Still, women were lucky. They had that brown stuff, concealer or something like that, to hide anything strange on their face. He would have loved to hide the lamppost-shaped bruise on his forehead just like that. Well, he wasn't going to tell the truth about its origins. Much too embarrassing. But Alfred didn't like lying. There was only one thing left; pretending to be oblivious. "My head? Why, is there something strange on it?"

Chicken salad? It wasn't bad he supposed, but would it be enough? Alfred could eat five of those and still be hungry. He needed two hamburgers after that to be satisfied. Oh well, James was smaller than he was, maybe he had a smaller stomach as well. And he probably didn't do sports like Alfred, if his lack of big muscles was anything to go by. So yeah; James ate too little. It definitely wasn't Alfred who ate too much. Not at all.

He laughed at that. "That's good. He didn't run away again? He seemed to like hiding in the park. Can't blame him though; it's pretty at night." Alfred would know; he spent at least ten nights in a month there.

"If a bruise counts as something strange...." Arthur tipped his head, looking at the mark on Alfred's forehead. He wondered if Alfred couldn't remember being hit or doing anything else that would have caused that. The man did seem young, so it was possible that he had a group of rowdy friends. Who knows what sort of things they would do while drunk? Arthur didn't doubt that hitting someone in the head with a bat, or something, was included in there.

He listened to Alfred talk for a moment, sipping his tea. The boy talked about his cat as if he knew Winston very well. It was odd, especially because the things Alfred said were true. "He hasn't run away again, no. I had him locked up for a few days, though, to punish him for running away in the first place." Was it cruel to lock up the poor cat for that? Arthur didn't think so, despite how desperate the cat sounded to get out. "Usually if he does run away, he ends up in the park. It could just be because we live near it, though. But perhaps he enjoys it there?"

Great, it must have been enormous if James noticed it already. Now, what to do? Play stupid again or come up with a nice, believable lie? Lying was bad and something he despised doing, however necessary it was. But this time it wasn't his life at stake, just his pride.

Heroes don't lie unless it's absolutely necessary. "Ah, you mean this? It's just a little thing my friends gave me while playing football. It doesn't even hurt!" And it was absolutely necessary in this case. He couldn't let James know he walked into a fucking lamppost; that would be uncool and not befitting of an awesome hero like him. Saying it was the consequence of playing football wasn't entirely a lie; he did get tons of bruises from football practice and matches. Bruises were something that came with playing. He smiled at the end of his sentence brightly, trying to prove that he really was alright and that the stupid black spot didn't throb painfully every third second or so.

His smile immediately disappeared when the other blond told him about his locked up cat. That was cruel. Cats had free spirits by nature, so keeping them in a small place must be hell for them. "Dude, you should let the poor thing out. He's just a cat after all, he probably has no idea you were worried about him."

Okay, arguing about cat rights probably wasn't the best thing to do while talking to your potential new friend. "So, how old are you? You look a few years older than me tops. Are you still going to college? Or do you have a job somewhere?"

He wasn't entirely sure that he believed Alfred. About the bruise hurting, of course. "It looks rather painful. Perhaps you should tell your friends not to play so rough." It wasn't until after he said it that he wished he hadn't. That sounded far too much like something a parent would tell their child. He didn't want Alfred to think him strange- if he didn't already, that is. "You'll worsen your brain damage that way." He teased, wondering if, perhaps, he shouldn't have said that either. Was it too soon? ... Oh well.

If Alfred didn't hate him for making fun of his mental state, it seemed he would for something Arthur did to his cat. Why did the boy even care? "He isn't locked up now. It was only for a day or two. He's over it." Although, he noticed that every time he locked Winston up, he would carefully avoid walking near his cage in the days after, throwing it such a nasty glare. Arthur found it amusing.

Ah, the part he hated most about making new 'friends'. They always wanted to know about his life. Time to start spewing lies again. "Hm? I'm twenty-three." He couldn't recall if Alfred told him his age before. The other seemed rather young, hardly more than a teenager. "I never finished school. I'm working now. At the library." That was always what he told people, so much so that he was starting to believe it himself. Not really. It just sounded so natural when he spoke the words.

He gave James a weird look. "Dude, football is rough. You can't play football gently." How could you tackle someone gently? "How would you pound your enemy into the ground gently?" He didn't exactly mean to say that one out loud. He didn't want James to think that football was brutal, even though it kind of was. Only a little. He pouted at the shorter man. "What do ya mean worsen? My brain's just fine!" Did his voice sound like a whine? Nah, he must have imagined it. Heroes didn't whine.

A whole day? Even two? Alfred stared at his companion, his expression a cross between disbelief and mortification. That poor cat. He almost snorted; yeah, sure, the poor fella must have gotten over it. Right. Even he, with his naive and trusting nature, couldn't believe that. As far as he knew, cats were vindictive and prideful things. One of the reasons he preferred dogs; they were much less snobby.

Alfred nodded. "Four years then." For some reason, he thought the other was a bit younger. He had no idea why. Working at the library was certainly an old manly job. But he could understand why James had decided not to finish school; it could be a nightmare sometimes. "I'm 19! I go to college!" Hmm, now that he thought of it, he had never seen James in the library before. Oh well, he usually went there half an hour before it closed; James' shift was probably over by then.

Arthur was tempted to tell Alfred that football, American football, was a wimpy sport and that he should be spending his time playing something more worthwhile. That, however, was not the point of the discussion, and somehow he thought that it would only end in some sort of argument and that would make this day go horribly wrong. No, it was best to keep his mouth shut on this matter. Besides, he couldn't deny tackling one's "enemy" was meant to be rough, even if all of that padding dumbed the pain down ( or so he assumed because honestly it looked like it would compared to say... rugby ). "That wasn't what I meant exactly. I just think your friends shouldn't ram your head into the ground. Again, you'll worsen your brain damage. Also, don't whine. It's unbecoming of you."

Still, he noted that Alfred didn't look at all pleased hearing that Winston had been locked up. Arthur shrugged it off, figuring this was just another thing that wasn't worth starting an argument over. What he did was his own business, anyway. Alfred could judge him all he wanted, but it wouldn't change the way he raised his cat.

"I see. Studying anything in particular?" Alfred didn't seem like an extremely bright boy, so he couldn't imagine him studying anything spectacular. If he was serious about going to university, though, then surely there was something he wanted to do. These days, it was rare to find anyone who went to school without an idea of what they want their future job to be. Considering everyone made the same amount of money no matter what they did, working in a grocery store probably seemed easier than studying and becoming a surgeon, or something. It took the dedicated people, the ones who truly wanted to make something of themselves, to go through school. Arthur occasionally wished he had gone himself, but there was never a need to. He never had a choice of what his future would be, but he couldn't say he minded.

...Why did he insist on Alfred having brain damage? His brain was perfectly fine! No, more than fine! It was the geniusest brain ever! And he didn't give a damn that geniusest wasn't a word. He scoffed at the other, not understanding his reasons for thinking he was stupid. If only James knew that Alfred was ready to save his life that night... and he was talking to his Hero like that. Hmph, so ungrateful.

Whining? He wasn't whining! Heroes didn't whine! He tried to frown at the other, his bottom lip jutting out slightly. "I wasn't whining. I don't whine!"

He grinned at James' question, his pout and earlier annoyance completely forgotten. He just loved talking about himself. "Medicine! And I take Physics as a minor! I just love science and and Medicine has tons of Biology and Chemistry and Physics has always been my favorite so I thought 'Hey, I can't just not study Physics!'. So yeah, that's how it came!" He took a breath after saying all that in one breath. "So, what did you study before you, you know, stopped?"

"You were whining. And now you're pouting." Arthur said, an amused smile crossing his face. He couldn't help but find teasing Alfred entertaining. The boy's reactions were ( dare he say it? ) rather cute. Not that he thought Alfred attractive in any way, of course! He was cute in a childish way.

He was embarrassing himself with his own thoughts, and he hoped Alfred wouldn't notice his faint blush. He didn't want to explain what was on his mind. The other would just think him odd anyway. Arthur was thankful that the pout didn't last very long. He listened intently to what Alfred said, anything to distract himself from thoughts of anything cute.

Honestly, he was surprised. Not a moment ago, he was thinking that Alfred was nothing but a simpleton, and yet his major consisted of basically everything Arthur failed at when he was in school. Science was definitely not his forte, but he wasn't bothered by that. It did irk him slightly that someone like Alfred could be smarter than him. Though, he supposed that he excelled in other subjects where Alfred probably did not. "How interesting. What is it about science that you like so much?" he said, sounding a bit bored though he was genuinely curious. No need to let Alfred know that, though. "Ah, well, I always wanted to be an English teacher. Had I gone to uni, I would have majored in English."

His not-pout became even more pronounced. "I wasn't and I'm not! Men don't pout!" He wasn't doing anything of the sort! He was just frowning.

He tilted his head slightly when he saw James's face reddening slightly. It wasn't all that hot in here, he was completely comfortable in his thick bomber jacket. Oh well. He shrugged it off, figuring that Jamie would take off the top layer of his clothing if he felt too hot.

And then his grin grew. Oh, he just loved it when people thought he was stupid and then they were all surprised when he told them about his major. "Everything! Science is everywhere! I mean, it can answer so many questions and then ask 10 new ones in their place! That's why it's so exciting; you can never know everything, so you'll always have new things to discover. That's why I want to be a doctor. I wanna help discover the cure for incurable diseases!" As awesome as designing a spaceship would be, Alfred was sure the Elite wouldn't let them spend money on space travel. Besides, if everyone was content here, why would they want to go to new planets?

"I see. I used to hate English in high school. I think would die if I had to study English." He said cheerfully.

Growing even more amused, Arthur let out a laugh. "Right. You must be a woman, then." Alfred could deny pouting all he wanted, but Arthur could clearly see it. He wondered if it would be odd to take a picture. At least then he'd have proof. ... It would definitely be odd. Best not to do that, no matter how tempting it was. What would he do with a picture of Alfred anyway?

It was was certainly interesting to listen to Alfred talk about his love for science. While Arthur couldn't bring himself to agree, it was nice to hear someone have such passion for a subject. Considering every job, aside from his own, paid the same amount of money, it was rare to find anyone who actually cared about what they were studying for. A good number of people were manipulated into joining careers they might not have considered originially simply because the world couldn't afford a shortage of doctors or firemen or... whatever other necessary jobs there were.

"I see. It's nice to find someone who legitimately wants to help people." Most unusual to find a Police who wanted to. Arthur couldn't help but grow more and more curious about Alfred. "And I'm sure you wouldn't die from studying English. You might not enjoy it, but you wouldn't die."

Never running out of childish gestures, Alfred stuck his tongue out. "Nope. I'm obviously a manly man." He wasn't about to drop his pants and show James just how manly he was, he wasn't suicidal, but he couldn't help making a show of reaching for a napkin on the table, tensing his arm muscles more than it was strictly necessary. Swinging on tree barks, balconies, jumping from roof to roof, and the regular visits to the gym had their benefits. And what was more obviously masculine than muscles?

A warm smile appeared on his face. "Thanks." It was nice to be acknowledged as someone who genuinely wanted to help people. It was the truth, of course, even if James had no way of knowing the extent of his want to help others. Alfred enjoyed studying Medicine and loved everything that had to do anything with Science. Not to mention, even if he never manages to reach his dream, he would have still helped people by curing their diseases.

His smile growing into a grin, Alfred chuckled. "Feel suicidal then. Studying grammar and the types of rhymes sounds too boring for me. No, I like solid things, rational things much better."