Language Barriers

Kyle froze as he was laying on his bed. "Wait, what did you just say?"

There was an oddly strained silence over the phone line, the little bit of mood between the two of them disappearing as the silence stretched. Kyle sat up on his bed, trying to ignore the little 'situation' he had gotten himself in. He had surely just misheard Alfred, and they could continue this rather interesting little call after clarifying what he had said.

"You know? A thong?"

Kyle blinked in confusion, glancing towards his clock, which was dimly glowing on the nightstand. He couldn't be that sleep deprived at midnight, could he? Alfred certainly wasn't. It was 8:00 AM in DC.

"Sorry, just repeat it one more time."

There's a soft sigh. "Kyle, as much as I enjoy these calls and know that it is impossible to find a time that works well for both of us with me in DC and you in Canberra, I do have things to do today."

"Look, I think I'm just a bit tired. Just say it one more time."

"A thong. Fucking sexy underwear. Can I be any clearer than that?"

Underwear, what the hell-

Oh.

OH!

"I think I have determined the problem." Kyle said, sitting up slightly so he could talk into the phone easier.

"Besides the fact you called me to have phone sex after I had taken a shower and got ready for work?" Alfred grumbles.

"No. I have determined that you were not talking about footwear."

There's a long pause, and then Kyle swears he can hear the look of confusion in Alfred's voice at the next statement.

"What the fuck, Oz?"

"Down under, a thong is a sandal. One of those ones that goes between the toes and doesn't really have a top."

"You mean a flip flop?" Alfred asks, sounding incredulous.

"I guess that's what you Yanks call them?"

"So when I said 'I enter your room wearing nothing but a thong', you-"

"Imagined you in nothing but a pair of shoes. Which was a little jarring. Not quite the mood I was looking for, you know?"

There's a weird noise on the other end of the line, which Kyle identifies as muffled laughter.

"Oh my fucking God..."

"Alfred, if we could perhaps get back to our earlier conversation-" Kyle said, hoping he might get a resolution for his current mood, which according to his body, was still going.

A short laugh from Alfred. "I do have to imagine I would be quite a sight in nothing but a pair of flip flops."

"Alfred-"

"Yes, yes, you were saying?"

"Can we continue now?"

There's a pause, a short burst of laughter, and then a single word.

"No."

"Alfred!"

"Look, I've got to get to work, Kyle. I'm already running late, and as much as I enjoy our little phone 'conversations', I really do have to go."

Kyle groaned. "But-"

"You have a vivid imagination. Imagine me in a thong. Whichever type you prefer..." There was another short laugh, and the phone clicked off.

Kyle growled out a few halfhearted insults at his ceiling as he sank back into the bed, glaring at the ceiling. He set the phone on the nightstand and sighed.

"Well, this is not quite the ending I was hoping for..." He muttered, closing his eyes and imagining Alfred in a thong.

Really, he supposed, in retrospect, either type did work.

Here's the anonymous ask which inspired the fic.

http://hipsofsteel.tumblr.com/post/156362365111/golden-gaytime-headcanon-due-to-the-language