American Beauty, American Psycho

American Psycho

Allen ran his fingers through his hair after taking a good, long shower that, in hindsight, he probably shouldn't have taken due to the building's limited hot water supply. He shrugged it off, cleared a space in the mirror, then brushed his hair and washed his face for the first time in what felt like weeks. He was starting to care about what he looked like beyond his tough-guy reputation. Alfred was doing something odd to his mind: Alfred was making Allen want to look better, feel better, be better. Allen smoothed his hair down, eagerly anticipating his meeting with Alfred at midnight. Throwing a towel around his waist, he walked down the hall with a skip in his step, but smashed right into Matt. "Hey! You...! Brother from another...mother!" Allen shot Matt awkward finger guns. "Brohaus...bro..."
"Just stop, it's bad for both of us." Matt noogied Allen, but jumped back in surprise when Allen jerked away from him quickly. "What? Don't wanna ruin your hair for the fight club, eh?"
"Nailed it." Allen nudged past Matt in the hall and scooted to his room, angry with himself for reacting so suspiciously. He sifted through his clothes, desperately trying to find something that didn't have a questionable smell or even more questionable stain on it. He settled on a clean white tank top, his old faithful leather jacket, a pair of semi-clean jeans, high top sneakers with actual laces, and brown aviator sunglasses that he hoped to god Alfred wouldn't notice the crack in. It was one of the nicest outfits he had, and he liked the fact that he would look a little neater for Alfred. He decided that he'd bring dinner again this time, and he'd make it romantic and candlelit. Scrounging through his pants pockets, he gathered up enough cash to grab what he was looking for at the dollar store.

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Alfred relaxed in his bed, still smelling Allen's rogue scent of cigarettes, hard liquor and motor oil wafting through the air. He never wanted the smell to leave him, but he knew he'd smell it again at midnight. He hopped in the shower, somewhat regretful to wash the Allen off himself. After getting out, he looked in his floor-to-ceiling mirror and decided to go with a different look. He teased his hair up slightly with a bit of gel and left his face up to chance; he only washed it with warm water instead of the usual cleansers that left him glowing. He hoped he was nailing the same rugged look that Allen had attracted him with in the first place. Allen made Alfred want to dabble in danger; walk on the dark side of the street, wear leather and ripped clothing, and only brush his teeth after dinner. As much as he loved his life, he appreciated how Allen was opening his eyes. He threw on a loose NYPD shirt, a denim Metallica vest, dark-wash jeans with a single rip in them, and black boots. He was so caught up in the moment that he hadn't noticed a guard standing in his doorway, looking at him skeptically. "What're you looking at?" He snapped, almost immediately regretting taking on a bit of Allen's wild, impulse driven attitude in the moment. The guard raised an eyebrow in response.
"Feeling alright, sir?" He asked, and Alfred softened his gaze and nodded. "Going anywhere tonight?"
"No, I just...ah..." He stammered. "Trying on new clothes. Why the hell not?"
The guard gave him a quizzical look, then continued on down the hall. Alfred grinned to himself and set off into the dimming light. 

By the time he got to the docks, it was near pitch dark, except for two tiny lights in the sand under the docks. The waves rolled in and out rhythmically and the smell of sea salt drifted through the air, guiding him down the sand towards the water. As he approached, he saw that the tiny lights were two plastic dollar store candles; Allen sat on a stained blanket in the sand with two cups of ramen in front of him, and grinned when Alfred came up to him. Alfred drank in everything about Allen's look; the missing tooth, the bronze, tanned skin, the harshness in his eyes, softened by the candlelight, and the red hair, blackened in the dark. 
Allen took in everything about Alfred and processed it at an alarming rate. His golden hair, somehow still tinted light even in the darkness of the night, his sky-blue eyes full of a childlike optimism that Allen could get lost in forever. Ahh, forget all this cheesy bull, he thought to himself. "You look hot," he smirked, and Alfred turned his head away to smile.
"Your clothes look nice," Alfred said gently, sitting on an area of the blanket with the most faded stain he could see. Relief washed over Allen, who had previously been anxious about ditching his usual disheveled and rugged look. 
"Your clothes look...different." Allen chuckled, but caught himself and frowned. "Uh...good different. Really good different." He set a mental reminder to kick himself when he got home for being so stupid that he could barely deliver a simple compliment. What the hell is happening to me?! He thought angrily. My whole life built up to be smooth and cool. Why am I stumbling now? Damn, he just looks so good in those jeans...
Nevertheless, Alfred felt warmed by Allen's comment; he had been nervous to change up his normal wardrobe, and unsure about how he'd look in public. Good different is...okay, he thought with a little smile.
"Brought us dinner, candlelit and romantic." Allen grinned, and Alfred chuckled. 
"I can see that. Very classy," he picked up a plastic fork to dig into his noodles.
"Oh, and what's this? The romance ninja strikes again!" Allen said, whipping out a bouquet of fake plastic roses. Alfred blushed very obviously, even in the dim candlelight, as he took them and held them close to his chest. 
"Yes, the ninja strikes again," Alfred smiled, hugging them. Carefully, as if they were real, he set them beside himself and ate away at his noodles. Allen slurped a large portion of them while staring at Alfred, unblinking. Alfred shot him a questioning look.
"I dunno, I wanted to see how you'd react to that," Allen snickered.
"It's cool. They kinda look like tapeworms," Alfred said, and Allen suddenly choked on his fork as he ate. He casually spit them back into the cup, wiped his mouth, and calmly set the cup down, still wheezing a bit.
"Let's just look at the stars, blond." Allen sat back on the blanket, his arms rigid behind him to hold him upright. Alfred felt a kiss coming on, especially when he looked at the night sky reflected in Allen's eyes. He took the chance, and Allen kissed him back, somewhat more gentle than he ever had.
"Let me take care of dinner next time, red." Alfred tried to boast his new, "bad" attitude when he spoke. Allen simply chuckled and wrapped his arms around him tightly as they kissed.