US x Reader x UK - Of Courtship and Burgers (1)

The coffee shop is empty. It isn't too hard to see why, to be honest - dusty tables sit vacant and scattered around the room, with a few chairs pulled up to them. The wallpaper is a now dirty cream, and desperately needs a good paint. The only colour in the room seems to come from the tacky cheap paintings that hang on the wall.

It is perfect. You nod in approval as you look around - no chattering, no loudly played ear splitting music, and nobody to disturb you.

The bag, full of papers and books, weighs down on your shoulder. You almost wince as you dwell on the annoying little fact that your finished essay has to be in for tomorrow, and you've barely written a paragraph.

The serving counter is an island in the center of the room, and standing watching you is a man. He has bright baby blue eyes, like something out of a fairy tale. It almost makes you wonder if he is wearing contacts. Askew glasses sit on the tip of his nose, and a few strands of honey blonde hair stick out at odd angles. 

"Hi," he grins brightly, as if you are there to tell him he'd won the lottery. "How are you?"

You stare at him, before giving him a tiny smile - you can't say you are in the best of moods, but the guy is looking at you as if he is an innocent puppy. "Er, I'm fine." Your eyes flicker to the menu, which has been hastily scratched on a blackboard. "I'll have one (your favourite hot drink), please."

He nods, and within a few seconds you grasp the drink firmly in your hands. With a murmur of thanks towards the man, you slump in a window seat and drop the heavy bag with a sigh. 

Raising the glass to your lips, you take a large sip. The lukewarm liquid doesn't taste too bad, really. 

You groan inaudibly before opening your bag and taking out the needed items. You tap the pen on the clean paper and glare determinedly. A little inspiration would work wonders right now.

"What you doing?" The man who served you your drink falls into the seat opposite you, and you almost bash your head off your table. Better yet, bash his head off your table - maybe then you could get some work done.

"Nothing," you snap. When he looks at you with those wide puppy dog eyes, the inevitable rush of guilt makes you soften. "I mean, I'm writing an essay that's due in for tomorrow." You shuffle uncomfortably. "Sorry I was so harsh there; I've been trying to find somewhere peaceful to work all this week."

The bright grin returns. "Sounds cool! I'd offer to help, but I'm no good at stuff like that." He chuckles softly before holding out a hand. "By the way, I'm Alfred F. Jones, hero extraordinaire!" 

You can't help but giggle. "Hero, huh? And what does the "f" in your name stand for?"

"That's right," he nods proudly. "I'm a hero, and I think I quite like you, so if you've got any problems feel free to come to me." You laugh again, but his face suddenly grows serious, bar from a small smirk. "And my middle names? Well, that's a secret."

You pause, and stare at Alfred. Not that he wasn't already handsome, but the way he had winked at you just then made him seem undeniably... well, sexy. 

"I see," you say. "My name is ____, and it's nice to meet you."

"____?" He gives a thumbs up. "You've got an awesome name, ____. It suits you."

You try to be discreet about the shade of red your cheeks are turning.

"Thanks," you manage to say. "I like your name, too. Very heroic."

This time, you swear you see him blush too.

- A month or so later -

"____?"

You pause. You aren't sure, but you could swear you just heard someone call your name.

"____!?"

That time you're sure of it - somebody did just mention you. 

"For god's sake, ____, wake up!"

The accented voice of your best friend, Arthur Kirkland, makes you jump. He's staring at you, his face close to your own, a worried expression etched on his features. 

"I...uh...what?" You frown, blinking as you yawn. "Where are we, Artie?"

Moving away from you and sitting primly in his chair on the other site of the desk, Arthur scowls suddenly. "I've told you before; don't call me Artie. My name is A-R-T-H-U-R." He sounds out the individual letters his name consists of. "And we're in the library, you twit. As we were before you fell asleep."

Rubbing your eyes, you stretch your arms out. "I did? Whoops." The books you'd been slept on were remarkably comfortable. "We're here to finish the project, right?"

He rolls his eyes. "I can't believe you how you consistently manage to get roughly the same marks as me in exams," Arthur smirks. "I suppose some of my intelligence has rubbed off on you, then."

You wave your hand. "Nonsense. I'm just tired today, and you know it."

"Maybe," says Arthur. "But you owe me. I just did all of the work."

"Y'know, you could have just woken me up." You poke the Brit's arm. He shifts awkwardly, as if you'd just committed a verbal atrocity. 

Arthur stumbles for words as you raise an eyebrow. "You..." He glares, though not with passion. "You looked peaceful, okay? You've been tired lately, and I don't want you fainting on me or anything."

You smile. "I'll do my best, Artie. But I'm feeling woozy all of a sudden, so I make no promises." 

"For the final bloody time, my name is Arth-"

"____!" Arms wrap around you from behind, and you clam up in confusion. Alfred F. Jones lets you go, and beams at you joyfully. "I didn't know if I'd see you again, but here you are!"

"A hello would have been nice," you say with a smile. "But whatever. Alfred, this is Arthur Kirkland. Arthur, this is-"

"Alfred Jones, yes." At your look of confusion, Arthur runs a hand through his messy blonde hair. "We were next door neighbours while growing up, ____."

"Oh hi, Artie!" Alfred says, a look of recognition flashing on his face. "This is kind of a surprise, right?" 

Arthur sighs. "And what are you doing here, Alfred? You aren't exactly the bookish type, if I recall correctly."

"Nah," admits Alfred. You watch the exchange with some degree of amusement. "I was here to return my brother Mattie's books for him, but then I found you two here. Small world, huh?"

"Tiny," you say, before glancing at your watch. "Guys, I've got to go - I promised I'd meet somebody for lunch. I'll catch you both later, right?"

Arthur nods, and your turn to leave through the door. A warm hand grabs your shoulder just in time.

Alfred stands behind you, and doesn't move his hand, though he seems eager to speak. "____, I was wondering something. You'll come on a date with me tonight, right? To the movies?"

You almost drop your bag in surprise. A date? At the cinema? 

"I..." You can't prevent your eyes from flashing to Arthur, who is still standing by the desk, frozen but composed. Though it's not like he's ever shown signs of returning your small crush, you can't help it. "You know what? Sure." You resolve your indecision strongly - Alfred seems like a good guy, and you're single. Why not?

"Great! How about I pick you up at eight?" Alfred seems pleased with himself, once again grinning childishly.

"I can work with that," you say. "Artie, do you think you can give him my address? I've really, really got to go." You flash an apologetic smile.

"Sure." Arthur doesn't even bother to correct you on his name, which is worrying. "I'll see you later, ____."

You wave quickly, and slip out of the door and into the cold.