Paint Me A Dancer [USUK]

Chapter 20

The next day was the fourth day of the given week and it began with Alfred waking up in bubbly state, his arms wrapped around a slender figure under the covers. For a second, he wondered if it was alright breaching the pillows dividing him and his companion before he realised there were no pillows nor walls anymore, and that he was free to enjoy the warmth radiating off Arthur.

He sighed in content and pressed a soft kiss on the other's temple before lifting himself up and heading to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. When he returned, the small lump from the bed earlier was gone and sitting on the side of the bed was Arthur, his back facing him.

"Art?" He heard himself mumble, thinking if something's the matter. The dancer jolted a bit, turned to look at him and smiled warily, the sort of smile that didn't really reach his eyes.

"Hey," He rose from his spot, turned his back once again and reached for his phone. Alfred noticed the blinking light, indicating that Arthur was having an unopened notification. But before he could point it out, Arthur was walking towards him and engulfing him in a big, warm, hug.

"Is everything... okay?" He asked tentatively.

"It's alright," Said Arthur, squeezing him before releasing and heading to the bathroom, taking his phone with him. "I'm going to clean myself now, we have a huge day ahead of us." He laughed over his shoulder and Alfred, convinced that something was wrong decided to lay it off for a while and just bring it up later.

...

Alfred managed to forget the incident earlier. After Arthur went out to join him in the kitchen, crisp clean with the faint smell of apples, he was back to his sassy, sarcastic self. They teased, bantered while Alfred was slicing cheese for the omelette and Arthur whisking the egg. They were in the middle of laughing and debating if the show about five swimmers were gay or not when Allen interrupted them with an awkward cough.

Alfred pivoted, one eyebrow raised but Arthur was starting to turn pink so he briefly made eye contact with the red headed twin and turned back to his eggs.

"Love birds," He heard Allen mutter though there was a light tone to it, he could imagine him rolling his eyes. "Alfie, I'm heading out. I've got somewhere to be."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I heard my German classmate from high school was around the town, so I'm meeting him."

"The one with the anger issues?"

"Yeah," Allen finished, putting on his shoes while peeking at the hunched Arthur whose ears were bright red. He shook his head. "Damn, wish I could stay and torment Kirks here, but I really gotta go!"

Hearing his name, Arthur huffed and turned to throw a retort at him but Allen was gone and the sound of the door slamming close was all he got.

"Idiot," The Brit exhaled, then he face Alfred with a small smile. "Though I never got to thank him for pushing us together."

"Literally or metaphorically?"

The feeling of smooth lips pressed against his resurfaced on his brain again and he huffed, heart thumping and skin prickling in little waves of electricity. He was trying not to smile too much but he couldn't help himself. "Both."

At that, Alfred laughed.

...

Later, after the dishes were done, they were back to their original plan as to why Arthur was staying over Alfred's house.

Currently, the painter's brows were contracted together in profound concentration and his tongue was sticking out in an odd fashion as he swiftly sweeps his brush against the canvass. His face was out of Arthur's limited line of sight but every time he tilts his head side wards (exposing his look of attentiveness), the model slash dancer couldn't help but draw out a warm, vivid chuckle.

"You look absolutely ridiculous," He mentioned, gaze focused on him.

Alfred gradually paused and his expression faltered and turned into perplexity. "Huh?" He straightened his hunched posture and his eyes moved towards the canvass, then they went back to the actual Arthur. "Judging from our positions, I should be the one saying that."

Arthur snorted. "Don't be clever with me, you brat."

"I'm trying," Alfred said, a smile forming on his lips. "And don't move! Not even an inch, please. We're almost done."

Arthur merely rolled his eyes. He had returned to the position he made earlier that week. That time when he earned a kiss on a cheek from Alfred. "And what if I'm hungry? Would you let me starve instead of moving and getting myself something?"

Alfred pretended to think, making a little show by tapping the end of the brush against his chin. "Hmm, if you'll be a good boy, I'd be the one getting you something to eat. Perhaps a few cookies and a warm glass of milk. Will it do for you?"

"What am I, five?"

"Hardly," Alfred chuckled. He went back to business and stared at those eyes of Arthur's once again. He picked different shades of green acrylic and squeezed them out of their tubes. "Your irises are too special and unique, I don't think I could imitate them."

Arthur's cheeks turned carnation pink and he impulsively cleared his throat. "They're just green, obviously, nothing too special nor exceptional."

"Nope, they're not just green. They are a mixture of jade, and emerald, and then there's grey, and ugh! No words could explain how beautiful they are. It's like, someone had taken two goddamn polished jewels and shoved them into your eye sockets. If I had a teenage girl here with me, I know she would have agreed." Alfred clarified, his breathing pattern altered because of the lengthy explanation.

This only made Arthur even more flushed. It seems like whenever Alfred's on work, painting rather, he's getting a little bit out of character. He's becoming more mature and be damned if Arthur himself doesn't think it's sexy as hell.

"I'm almost there, anyway, so please don't move."

"Alright," The current model replied. Truth to be told, his body aches from its position. His back was leaning on a makeshift pole, his head tossed backwards exposing his neck, with one knee up, and one hand clutching at the pole atop his head. His other free hand was in between his slightly spread legs.

"Alfred," Arthur spoke a few seconds later, his voice louder than Offenbach's Can Can playing in the background in loop.

"Yes?"

"Fuck your music."

A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK? First of all, I really want to apologise for the long wait, it took me almost a year to get my gears working again. To those who sent me love and comfort, thank you so much, it meant a huge thing to me. And if you're still here, reading this, thank you once again! School is just around the corner and I really need to focus on it but it won't stop me from updating (I've yet to decide a schedule for posting chapters).