Paint Me A Dancer [USUK]

Chapter 6

Alfred woke up at 8 the next day, prepared himself to the fullest, and headed straight to his garage to pull out his Chevy truck. He had been thinking all night about what Arthur should wear and what other props he would need in his painting and even lured himself to sleep thinking of Arthur's eyes.

Today, he settled on buying the Brit those requirements in the local supermarket located near the exclusive pub and he was sure that his new friend wouldn't mind the little set up.

"And oh, which would go better with green?" Alfred help up the two scarves and asked the saleslady who merely stared at him in confusion.

"Well, erm, the tan scarf would simply make the color green outstand so I guess that's more better than the red one."

The American nodded with a large grin and he quickly shove the item inside the basket, and headed towards the trench coats. He randomly picked a navy blue one, Arthur's size, and tossed it in. One could simply say that this blond was not into shopping as he picked out random stuffs, examining it within a millisecond before taking it.

He was about to go and pay for the objects but his eyes caught something glittering from the far corner. Without a double thought, he decided to approach the said thing.

"It's really rare nowadays," Another worker told him as he ran his fingers on the marble like cover, a smile slowly forming on his lips. "Can I open it?" The bespectacled blond asked.

The worker nodded and gestured for him to do so and he took the chance right away. He slowly lifted the cover and he twisted the key a couple of times, making the male dancer twirl with the soft melody. It reminded him so much of Arthur he decided to purchase the music box too.

"Maybe I could give it to him once the job's done." He told himself but he paused when his heart suddenly ached. What then after the deal's done? Would they still be friends? Would Arthur still dedicate a dance to him and look at him with fiery green eyes? Would Alfred still pass by that street?

He shook the thoughts off his head and he mentally told himself that he should better focus on the present and not on the future. With a new beam, he marched towards the cashier and paid the items.

"You're just in time, " Alfred spoke as he held up his cup of coffee to his lips and blew the steam off. "Very punctual of you, Mr. England."

The Brit puffed his cheeks and sat across him with a scowl glued to his face, a duffle bag to his right. "And so are you, I thought you would have been late, Mr. America."

The two exchanged a glance and soon, a smile crept towards their lips.

"You know, I like that nickname..." Arthur suddenly stated which caused the American to chuckle in delight. The blue eyed man sipped contentedly from his drink and after that, spoke in an equal tone. "Glad you like it."

Silence overtook them and they both averted their eyes away from each other. Alfred could feel his face slowly burning and he stole a glance from Arthur's direction, grinning for the small Brit was also blushing up to the tips of his ears. "So, England-"

"Arthur,"

The painter quirked a brow up. Didn't he say he liked the nickname? "Well, uh, Arthur... you wanted to order something?"

"It's 'Do you want to order something,' not that. Proper English, please."

The American puffed his cheeks and rolled his cerulean eyes at him. "Whatever, just tell me your answer, bruh."

The corner of the Englishman's eye ticked in irritation but he decided to let the Yank pass. "I have eaten already, I don't want to order something."