Paint Me A Dancer [USUK]

Chapter 7

Alfred stretched his arms up and moaned at the sudden feeling of excitement. He could not wait to sit down and paint the marvelous man across him who was too busy gawking at his house. "Come on, Artie." He whined as he grabbed his arm. "It's not that big."

"For you that is," The other retorted, his green eyes full of admiration and awe. "This is like my dream house or something."

The American smiled for no reason and dragged the smaller man towards the entrance. "Well, if you want to stay here forever, then stay!" He joked but it wasn't even clear to him if it was just one or not. Well, he couldn't deny the fact that he had thought of the latter.

"You're such an idiot, you know?" Arthur noted and let the bespectacled bloke drag him inside.

Arthur was impressed of how clean the living room was, it was surrounded by different canvasses and pieces and he felt himself slowly falling in love with the other's work. He sauntered towards the hallway and eyed each artworks with appreciation etched on his face.

"You like them?"

The Brit snapped out of his daze and faced the owner of the voice beside him. "Well, yes I do. I mean, how could one not like these master pieces."

Alfred let out a soft chuckle. "They aren't my master pieces yet, Arthur."

The dancer blushed and tried to conceal his red face away from Alfred but failed to do so.

"Thank you though," The American continued. "You appreciate every single thing about me. From my rejected painting, to my car, to my house, and to these... thank you very much."

Arthur could feel the other's gaze boring deeply into his figure and he coughed to cover up the awkward feeling rushing towards him. "E-err, no problem."

"I guess you should rest now, you have to stay still for a couple of hours later." Alfred clapped the other's shoulders and he escorted him towards the guest room located at the second floor across his own. Truth to be told, he wanted to spend time with Arthur rather than letting the man rest.

"Oh sure, that would be lovely."

There goes his accent making poor Alfred mushy inside. If the American wasn't holding his shoulders, he would've melted right then and there on the spot. "Lovely," He echoed with a dreamy smile.

Alfred was sitting on the kitchen counter, whistling and sketching something on his pad, a cup of coffee sitting beside him. He decided to do some little workout before he paints the dancer and he was very pleased of the outcome.

He smiled contently and brought the cup to his lips, licking the brim and chugging the contents down. A small shuffle startled him and he quickly sat up from his position. "Artie?"

"Arthur," The Brit corrected him and showed up with his messy blonde hair. He yawned secretively before running his eyes along the place. "Nice kitchen..."

"Thank you,"

The green eyed man smiled for a second before pulling a chair out and sitting on it. "Do you mind?" He asked him.

"Oh no, pretend this is your home."

Arthur smiled once again, grateful for the kind man within the same room with him. "That's too much, Alfred."

"Nothing's too much, Artie." He replied with a wink.

A new feeling blossomed inside the Briton and it made his heart pound despite the horrendous nickname. He quickly looked away and busied himself with the hem of his shirt. "You do know I'm gay, right?"

Alfred nodded and skipped towards him, a flirtatious smile present on his feature. "What'sa matter, England?" He purred and ran a hand through the other's fringe. "Good ol' Alfie's not allowed to flirt with you, hm?"

If the American's weakness is British Accent, one could say that Arthur's was Southern accent. He pulled away with a small jerk and he fanned his burning cheeks. "Git, don't make this awkward between the two of us."

Alfred just laughed his obnoxious laugh and lolled his head backwards. "I'm just kidding, dude."

"You better be."

"Anyway," Alfred droned and pulled out a chair and sat beside him. "Let's get to know each other!"

Arthur rolled his eyes but agreed anyhow at the other's request. "Whatever you say."

The American hummed for a bit before grinning his 100 watt grin. "What's your favorite color?"

"Always blue," Arthur paused as Alfred leaned closer, making him view his sparkling blue eyes. "B-but that doesn't mean I'm enthralled by those orbs, bloody hell!"

"Oh, okay then." He pulled away and laughed. "Mine's green, by the way. The same shade as your... 'orbs'."

Now Arthur's cheeks were beet red again and his head started to spin around the room. "You bloody twat, stop flattering me!"

"Nuh-uh."

The dancer clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and he looked away and settled his eyes on the coffee maker. "When's your birthday?"

"Fourth of July!" The other screamed with full pride and joy, his fist up in the air.

Okay, that was one wrong move for Arthur to ask. He didn't really appreciate the fact that the bloke was born on the day their country was defeated by the Yanks. He shifted on his seat and a small scowl appeared on his face. "Wonderful,"

"Aw come on, pal! I know the Brits and the Americans don't have an awesome past regarding that day but at least be grateful that a man like me was born to be your future boyfriend!" Alfred piped up but immediately regretted his words as his cheeks flamed from the abrupt sentence. "I-I mean, well... erm, fuck."

The two tried their best to avoid eye contact to lessen the thick atmosphere. The only sound that could be heard was the slow breathing of a man, namely, Alfred F. Jones.

"I was born in 23rd of April," Arthur suddenly broke the ice, his gaze settled on his lap. He swore he could feel his heart about to leap off of him any minute from now.

Alfred grinned a toothy one before rubbing the nape of his neck. "Well, that's nice to know."

"So," The Brit has now, thankfully, composed himself a bit and he clapped his palms together. "When are you going to paint me?"

"Whenever you're ready,"

"C-can I ask you a favor then?" He asked sheepishly. "I mean, we haven't started yet so I guess this could pass time."

The sudden question made Alfred drop his grin into a small smile and he cocked his head to the side. "Sure, bro!"

"Let me dance for you."