Like a priest at the altar, Arthur sat before his laptop silently. Seventh months ago the idea of him having a soul mate, let alone a French one, was beyond his wildest dreams. Yet now, he was somehow expected to digest the experience and materialize several hundreds of words on the overwhelming revelation which would then be read by complete strangers. It was lunacy.
The fabric of his dressing gown pooled around his hips. Two empty beer cans sat side by side on the coffee table, tattooing watery rings into the wood. Arthur stared out his window. Nearly the entire view was of the wall next door, except for an anorexic line of sky that cut across the top. Greenwich Village, Arthur chuckled at the thought, if only.
Alfred and Matthew rode the bus home in the afternoon so Arthur lounged about drinking until inspiration struck him for his latest piece. Setting aside his third beer, Arthur began typing, professionalism be damned.
To All You Timer-Sick Fools,
It doesn't help to have a Timer tells you who your soul mate is. In my case (and I'm sure many others) he didn't even know I was his soul mate. That means all the pressure falls on you because if you don't say something to them you've not only ruined your happy ending but theirs too. And a Timer doesn't make it any easier for you to get to know them. It doesn't magically transmit all of the pertinent information from them to you in a beam of light. As if that wasn't enough, there is no promise of unconditional love or "through sickness and in health" with your soul mate. They could keep seeing their boyfriend or wife or fiancée even though you're their...
Arthur paused his stream of conscious as the words other half resonating in his mind. The notion that he could grow to completely love another person only to loose them was terrifying… and that wasn't even taking Matthew and Alfred into consideration. God, if he ever had to choose between his brothers and his soul mate. It'd be worse than death and he'd end up resenting both parties. He deleted the previous dribble and wrote one line of absolute truth.
I met my soul mate, but I'm too afraid to give him a chance because he could ruin me.
Snorting and more than a little buzzed, Arthur sent the one line off to Ludwig. He could chew on that for the next few days. Arthur sprawled across the couch, intent on sleeping back into sobriety, but before he could settle in an email lit up the screen. The flashing urgent symbol made him close his eyes and push the computer away with his foot. But even with his eyes closed Arthur could see the flashing. Angrily he opened the email just to rid himself of the nuisance.
Arthur,
Your articles are now being published online in real time. The story is garnering too much popularity to wait for weekly segments. The readers like seeing your reactions as they occur. Upload the next update when your ready.
Ludwig
A link was included in the email and Arthur stared at it for several moments before clicking it. The webpage that opened was a professional black and white page. The clean lines gave him some distance to the situation. Arthur scrolled through past posts with a heavy heart.
Like a priest at the altar, Arthur sat before his laptop silently. Seventh months ago the idea of him having a soul mate, let alone a French one, was beyond his wildest dreams. Yet now, he was somehow expected to digest the experience and materialize several hundreds of words on the overwhelming revelation which would then be read by complete strangers. It was lunacy.
The fabric of his dressing gown pooled around his hips. Two empty beer cans sat side by side on the coffee table, tattooing watery rings into the wood. Arthur stared out his window. Nearly the entire view was of the wall next door, except for an anorexic line of sky that cut across the top. Greenwich Village, Arthur chuckled at the thought, if only.
Alfred and Matthew rode the bus home in the afternoon so Arthur lounged about drinking until inspiration struck him for his latest piece. Setting aside his third beer, Arthur began typing, professionalism be damned.
'To All You Timer-Sick Fools,
It doesn't help to have a Timer tells you who your soul mate is. In my case (and I'm sure many others) he didn't even know I was his soul mate. That means all the pressure falls on you because if you don't say something to them you've not only ruined your happy ending but theirs too. And a Timer doesn't make it any easier for you to get to know them. It doesn't magically transmit all of the pertinent information from them to you in a beam of light. As if that wasn't enough, there is no promise of unconditional love or "through sickness and in health" with your soul mate. They could keep seeing their boyfriend or wife or fiancée even though you're their…'
Arthur paused his stream of conscious as the words 'other half' resonating in his mind. The notion that he could grow to completely love another person only to loose them was terrifying… and that wasn't even taking Matthew and Alfred into consideration. God, if he ever had to choose between his brothers and his soul mate. It'd be worse than death and he'd end up resenting both parties. He deleted the previous dribble and wrote one line of absolute truth.
'I met my soul mate, but I'm too afraid to give him a chance because he could ruin me.'
Snorting and more than a little buzzed, Arthur sent the one line off to Ludwig. He could chew on that for the next few days. Arthur sprawled across the couch, intent on sleeping back into sobriety, but before he could settle in an email lit up the screen. The flashing urgent symbol made him close his eyes and push the computer away with his foot. But even with his eyes closed Arthur could see the flashing. Angrily he opened the email just to rid himself of the nuisance.
'Arthur,
Your articles are now being published online in real time. The story is garnering too much popularity to wait for weekly segments. The readers like seeing your reactions as they occur. Upload the next update when your ready.
Ludwig'
A link was included in the email and Arthur stared at it for several moments before clicking it. The webpage that opened was a professional black and white page. The clean lines gave him some distance to the situation. Arthur scrolled through past posts with a heavy heart.
The smell of garlic and onions wafted through the flat. This was going to be his best dinner yet. A red sauce bubbled on the stove and the pasta just needed to be drained. The boys would love it. His mobile rang and Arthur paused to check the caller ID. It was a New York number. With a furrowed brow he picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Salut Arthur," a lyrical voice greeted him.
Arthur grabbed the boiling pot in shock. It fell to the ground with a clatter and pasta spilled everywhere. Wide red blisters spread across the palm of Arthur's right hand and fingers. The man cursed and rushed to the sink. His mobile skidded under the counter with a tinny shout. The lukewarm water sent shards of pain lacing up his hand. Arthur hissed and stumbled over to the fridge to grab the mustard. He smeared the yellow condiment over the wound. Slowly the fire in his hand began to ebb. Something squished and Arthur looked under his foot to see a wayward noodle flattened to his sole.
"Bollocks," Arthur swore at the ruined dinner on the ground.
Gingerly he picked up the pot and swept up the noodles. The mustard left yellow finger prints on everything. He shook the ruined pasta into the bin. With a grumble he picked his way over to the takeaway menus. At least the boys would be pleased, they always preferred when he didn't cook. A red and yellow menu caught his eye.
"I'm ordering Thai!" Arthur called up the stairs, "What do you both want?"
"Yellow curry chicken!" came the unanimous response.
Arthur snorted but jotted down three yellow curries with chicken. He searched for his phone to place the order and the reason for the ruined dinner came rushing back to him. Quickly he searched for his mobile, finding it hiding with the dust bunnies under the cupboard.
"Francis, are you still there?" Arthur asked, but only the dial tone responded.
With a sigh, Arthur dialed the Thai place and left his order. His computer while he waited. Arthur didn't like talking on the phone, so he wasn't sure why he'd given Francis his number. But he'd made the attempt to call even after Arthur had left so spectacularly at the café. Maybe Francis thought it could work out? Didn't he owe it to the other man to try? Arthur huffed at the thoughts. It was easier when he only had himself and the boys to look after… and yet a small warmth drew his hands to the keyboard. With slow fingers, Arthur began typing.
'I live in Brooklyn with my two younger brothers. Our parents are dead and our older brothers are a disappointment. I'd never choose between the twins and you so, before we begin any kind of relationship, you'd need to accept that they would be part of our life. If that is agreeable to you then you should also know that I often write at night. Since I can't function without tea so I will undoubtedly ask you to run to the shops at midnight to replace an empty tin. Also because you are French I will likely call you every foul name at least once before we die. If after all of that you would still have me, then you will find me in the Rose Reading Room at the New York Public Library tomorrow at ten am.'
Dried mustard flakes littered the keys like dandruff. The burn across his fingers forced Arthur to keep the letter short. That would have to do.
Ignore the above post. A!A is really struggling with formatting today.
----------------------------------------------
The smell of garlic and onions wafted through the flat. This was going to be his best dinner yet. A red sauce bubbled on the stove and the pasta just needed to be drained. The boys would love it. His mobile rang and Arthur paused to check the caller ID. It was a New York number. With a furrowed brow he picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Salut Arthur," a lyrical voice greeted him.
Arthur grabbed the boiling pot in shock. It fell to the ground with a clatter and pasta spilled everywhere. Wide red blisters spread across the palm of Arthur's right hand and fingers. The man cursed and rushed to the sink. His mobile skidded under the counter with a tinny shout. The lukewarm water sent shards of pain lacing up his hand. Arthur hissed and stumbled over to the fridge to grab the mustard. He smeared the yellow condiment over the wound. Slowly the fire in his hand began to ebb. Something squished and Arthur looked under his foot to see a wayward noodle flattened to his sole.
"Bollocks," Arthur swore at the ruined dinner on the ground.
Gingerly he picked up the pot and swept up the noodles. The mustard left yellow finger prints on everything. He shook the ruined pasta into the bin. With a grumble he picked his way over to the takeaway menus. At least the boys would be pleased, they always preferred when he didn't cook. A red and yellow menu caught his eye.
"I'm ordering Thai!" Arthur called up the stairs, "What do you both want?"
"Yellow curry chicken!" came the unanimous response.
Arthur snorted but jotted down three yellow curries with chicken. He searched for his phone to place the order and the reason for the ruined dinner came rushing back to him. Quickly he searched for his mobile, finding it hiding with the dust bunnies under the cupboard.
"Francis, are you still there?" Arthur asked, but only the dial tone responded.
With a sigh, Arthur dialed the Thai place and left his order. His computer while he waited. Arthur didn't like talking on the phone, so he wasn't sure why he'd given Francis his number. But he'd made the attempt to call even after Arthur had left so spectacularly at the café. Maybe Francis thought it could work out? Didn't he owe it to the other man to try? Arthur huffed at the thoughts. It was easier when he only had himself and the boys to look after… and yet a small warmth drew his hands to the keyboard. With slow fingers, Arthur began typing.
'I live in Brooklyn with my two younger brothers. Our parents are dead and our older brothers are a disappointment. I'd never choose between the twins and you so, before we begin any kind of relationship, you'd need to accept that they would be part of our life. If that is agreeable to you then you should also know that I often write at night. Since I can't function without tea so I will undoubtedly ask you to run to the shops at midnight to replace an empty tin. Also because you are French I will likely call you every foul name at least once before we die. If after all of that you would still have me, then you will find me in the Rose Reading Room at the New York Public Library tomorrow at ten am.'
Dried mustard flakes littered the keys like dandruff. The burn across his fingers forced Arthur to keep the letter short. That would have to do.
Arthur stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was in serious need of a cut and his eyebrows seemed larger than yesterday. He wished he could afford braces to fix that snaggle tooth. His cheeks were rosy from the heat giving him a feverish look. A blue tie hung around his neck and Arthur tugged at it. The color was terrible and made the shadows under his eyes stand out even more. He switched it out for a black one and scowled. Now he looked like an over eager schoolboy on his first date.
Arthur ripped the tie from his neck and ran a hand through his hair, "What was I thinking?" he demanded at the mirror. The twins were hanging out in his room while he got ready. Alfred drummed his heels against the bed while Matthew stared at him from upside down.
"Aw c'mon, it'll be ok," Alfred exclaimed hopping up.
Arthur threw the tie on the toilet seat and huffed. The plain grey button up was still fancier than he'd wear any other day. If only he could pull off making a jumper look trendy Arthur thought looking longingly at his wardrobe.
"He's your soul mate," Matthew piped up, "He's not going to care what you look like."
"You haven't seen him," Arthur said waspishly.
Matthew stuck his tongue out and Arthur pressed his fingers to his face. His jaw was too narrow. After all this was through Arthur wasn't going to look in a mirror for the rest of the summer.
"Maybe I should try the purple one again," he muttered.
Both boys groaned at that.
"What time did you say you were meeting him?" Alfred asked.
"Ten," Arthur hissed through clenched teeth. He played with his hair trying to make it look more stylish, "That's it. I'm not going."
At his declaration both boys stormed the loo. The squeezed into the tiny space and backed Arthur on to the toilet.
"You've gotta go!" Alfred exclaimed.
"You look great," Matthew assured him.
"I do not," Arthur muttered.
But apparently Matthew was done listening to him because he ordered, "Let's catch the subway," and Alfred went scrambling out of the room calling behind him that he'd get the tickets from the bowl. Matthew prodded him from the toliet. He didn't let Arthur pick his shoes or coat and in response Arthur grumbled all the way to the tube station. Alfred ran ahead and came back with a cup of tepid tea.
Arthur took it with a scowl, "You're both conspiring against me."
They laughed and pushed him into the subway carriage. Arthur slouched into a seat and leaned against the glass. Manhattan flickered before him like an old flip book. The Chrysler building glowed like molten silver and ferries chugged across the river below them.
Ordinarily it took forever to get anywhere in the city, but not today. Arthur was positive the universe was in cahoots with the boys. The leafy trees of Bryant park swayed behind the library and a Mr. Frosty's was parked on the corner. Teenagers posed along side the lions flanking the building. Arthur shuffled at the base of the stairs. With a look Alfred and Matthew each grabbed a hand and hauled him up the steps. Arthur stumbled along after them swearing the whole time.
Three years ago, Arthur stayed up alone on New Years Eve and watched Sex in the City. He hadn't been able to afford a babysitter for the boys and it was on cable. Unfortunately for him, now the scene where Carrie was left at the altar kept coming to mind. He couldn't stop himself from imagining the scene again with himself in her place.
"Where did you plan to meet him?" Matthew asked.
"You're both grounded until the end of time," Arthur replied.
"The Rose Reading Room," Alfred answered for him with a cheeky grin.
Arthur scowled at the boy. The Reading Room was enormous. Arthur was sure that subconsciously that was part of the reason he chose it. When Francis didn't turn up he could easily lose himself in the books that lined the walls. His mind had always dubbed the New York Public Library as Literary Heaven so it would be an excellent place of solace.
The Reading Room was humming when the three of them stepped into it. The air con had turned the world aloe cool. People were hard at work taking notes and flipping through books. Tourists wandered down the center aisle taking pictures of the ceiling. Arthur's eyes flicked through the room nervously searching for the long golden line of his soul mate.
He wasn't sitting at a table like Arthur imagined, rather he was leaning against the edge of a table in the center of the room. It was impossible to miss him. Arthur froze and even though Matthew and Alfred tugged at his hands, he couldn't move. Francis had come. Arthur's heart rose like a hot air balloon. He'd come.
A lifetime of people wove in and out of Arthur's sight like a symphony. Dimly he noticed that although Francis had a hip popped he wasn't slouching, but standing up tall and gazing around the room. Then Francis looked his way. A grin split across his face and the blonde pulled himself away from the table. Arthur's hands tightened around the twin's. His fears must have slipped on to his face because his soul mate's expression went as tender as a tulip.
Francis stopped a few paces in front of Arthur. The Briton numbly felt his brothers let go of his hands. Their eyes stayed on him though. He and Francis were like the sun at the center of a galaxy with all the other people spinning around them. Francis raised Arthur's wrist to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to the blue signature. Arthur's heart bucked in his chest at the gesture.
"Of course, that is agreeable," his soul mate whispered.
Arthur grinned so wide his eyes crinkled. It was an answer he hadn't even realized he'd been hoping for. He turned his hand into Francis's cheek and the other man pressed into the gesture like an affection-starved kitten. In that gesture Arthur could read the reason for his soul mate's decision clearly. The silent ache for love was something Arthur was all too familiar with. Arthur gazed at Francis, traces of a sun burn lingered under his golden tan and laugh lines beginning to form around his moth. With a nuzzle, Francis opened his eyes. Their color reminded Arthur of two pale chips of blue ice.
As if the foot of distance was too much Francis pulled Arthur into a tight hug and Arthur laughed like a child. His soul mate's musky cologne washed over Arthur. Francis's nose pressed into Arthur's sandy hair. Arthur knew what he'd smell, sandalwood and summer heat. Francis's hands went flat against Arthur's lower back, unconsciously kneading at the tense muscles and Arthur adore him a little more for that. Arthur's ears had been trained to hear for his brother's hidden tears for many years now, and even though he couldn't hear anything remotely like crying from his soul mate, the overwhelming feeling of fragility resonating from Francis made Arthur linger in the hug much longer than he would have otherwise.
Whispering pulled him out of the trace he'd fallen into and Arthur pulled away from Francis with a frown. Matthew and Alfred were both bright red, but grinning. Arthur was sure all their future teasing would stem from this moment. Francis pouted at the loss.
Clearing his throat Arthur pushed the twins foreword, "these are my brothers," he said.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you," they chorused together and in the back of his mind Arthur was proud at their manners.
The four of them shuffle for a moment, no one quiet sure what to do when Alfred piped up, "Well we're going to go to the computer room. Come get us when you're done!" With that statement he dragged his unresisting twin towards the stairs.
Francis's attention turned back to Arthur and the Brit wished that Francis could glimpse what he was like before he became an exhausted surrogate father and timid, over-worked immigrant. For him to see Arthur in his glory days, when he was punk strong and pirate cocky with a taste for adventure as wide as the oceans.
Francis asked, "Have you been here before?"
Arthur nodded, ignoring his emotions to reply, "Yeah it's," his voice cracked and a blush swept across his face, "it's one of my favorite places in the city."
Francis's expression turned wistful, "I've never been before. What is your favorite thing to see?" he asked.
A shy smile peeked across Arthur's face and he thought of all the treasures housed in the building. The answer he gave to answer wasn't the same one he'd give to someone else asking. To his brothers he might say the rough draft of the US Constitution or the original Winnie-the-Pooh in the children's section, but to his soul mate he said, "The Lenox-Hunt Globe."
Francis's head tilted, "Why that? What's so special about it?"
Arthur's eyebrows rose, "What's so special?" he spluttered, "it's the second oldest globe in the world! It nearly predates Columbus!"
Francis chuckled at his passionate response and Arthur led them towards the globe. While they walked he spoke about the hilarious shape of the Australia and complete nonexistence of North America. Francis threaded his arm around Arthur's waist and even though Arthur's first thought was to shrug him off, he didn't. Francis was someone he'd let hold him.
Oh no! Why did it end so quickly???? I just saw this amazing fill today and I want to see more!!! The characterization is spot on, especially Arthur's refusal at first. I really think you should continue this, anon. Francis needs a little more spotlight and their relationship hasn't been expounded on that much yet. How will their relationship turn out? I must know! Please say you'll continue!!!
I'm really glad you like it!! I was slightly concerned over the lack of comments :D This was just suppose to be a quick writing exercise (I needed practice writing IC Arthur) but it morphed and grew into this 40 page monster. I might come back to it and work our their relationship, but I've got other stories on my plate right now.
But I'm thrilled that if/when I do a bit on there relationship they'll be an audience for it!!!
Completely new anon here. I wanted to say (1) don't be too discouraged by the small number of comments. I think that the kink meme has been struggling with that as of late. Personally, given the fewer fills to go through compared to two years ago, I don't even visit every week. I'd love to, but with RL time limits, it works better for me to binge on fanfics. Which means that I don't read some works until a month later, and don't have the opportunity to encourage the A!A while they are writing. I feel bad about this, but can't change my circumstances.
(2) This fic was beautiful! I loved how fragile Arthur and Francis were, how knowing who your soulmate was didn't mean you didn't have to do the leg work. And I love how cute the twins were. Normally, France/Francis is one of my least favorite characters, but it's fics like this that make me love him with England/Arthur in the fandom. You made him into a real, likeable person. He was still recognizable and not ooc; you showed me the layers that are so easy to over look.
(3) I do hope you continue this. I would love to watch their relationship unfold and develop.
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The Timer Articles 8/10
(Anonymous) 2014-02-08 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)The fabric of his dressing gown pooled around his hips. Two empty beer cans sat side by side on the coffee table, tattooing watery rings into the wood. Arthur stared out his window. Nearly the entire view was of the wall next door, except for an anorexic line of sky that cut across the top. Greenwich Village, Arthur chuckled at the thought, if only.
Alfred and Matthew rode the bus home in the afternoon so Arthur lounged about drinking until inspiration struck him for his latest piece. Setting aside his third beer, Arthur began typing, professionalism be damned.
To All You Timer-Sick Fools,
It doesn't help to have a Timer tells you who your soul mate is. In my case (and I'm sure many others) he didn't even know I was his soul mate. That means all the pressure falls on you because if you don't say something to them you've not only ruined your happy ending but theirs too. And a Timer doesn't make it any easier for you to get to know them. It doesn't magically transmit all of the pertinent information from them to you in a beam of light. As if that wasn't enough, there is no promise of unconditional love or "through sickness and in health" with your soul mate. They could keep seeing their boyfriend or wife or fiancée even though you're their...
Arthur paused his stream of conscious as the words other half resonating in his mind. The notion that he could grow to completely love another person only to loose them was terrifying… and that wasn't even taking Matthew and Alfred into consideration. God, if he ever had to choose between his brothers and his soul mate. It'd be worse than death and he'd end up resenting both parties. He deleted the previous dribble and wrote one line of absolute truth.
I met my soul mate, but I'm too afraid to give him a chance because he could ruin me.
Snorting and more than a little buzzed, Arthur sent the one line off to Ludwig. He could chew on that for the next few days. Arthur sprawled across the couch, intent on sleeping back into sobriety, but before he could settle in an email lit up the screen. The flashing urgent symbol made him close his eyes and push the computer away with his foot. But even with his eyes closed Arthur could see the flashing. Angrily he opened the email just to rid himself of the nuisance.
Arthur,
Your articles are now being published online in real time. The story is garnering too much popularity to wait for weekly segments. The readers like seeing your reactions as they occur. Upload the next update when your ready.
Ludwig
A link was included in the email and Arthur stared at it for several moments before clicking it. The webpage that opened was a professional black and white page. The clean lines gave him some distance to the situation. Arthur scrolled through past posts with a heavy heart.
Re: The Timer Articles 9/10
(Anonymous) 2014-02-08 09:52 pm (UTC)(link)The fabric of his dressing gown pooled around his hips. Two empty beer cans sat side by side on the coffee table, tattooing watery rings into the wood. Arthur stared out his window. Nearly the entire view was of the wall next door, except for an anorexic line of sky that cut across the top. Greenwich Village, Arthur chuckled at the thought, if only.
Alfred and Matthew rode the bus home in the afternoon so Arthur lounged about drinking until inspiration struck him for his latest piece. Setting aside his third beer, Arthur began typing, professionalism be damned.
'To All You Timer-Sick Fools,
It doesn't help to have a Timer tells you who your soul mate is. In my case (and I'm sure many others) he didn't even know I was his soul mate. That means all the pressure falls on you because if you don't say something to them you've not only ruined your happy ending but theirs too. And a Timer doesn't make it any easier for you to get to know them. It doesn't magically transmit all of the pertinent information from them to you in a beam of light. As if that wasn't enough, there is no promise of unconditional love or "through sickness and in health" with your soul mate. They could keep seeing their boyfriend or wife or fiancée even though you're their…'
Arthur paused his stream of conscious as the words 'other half' resonating in his mind. The notion that he could grow to completely love another person only to loose them was terrifying… and that wasn't even taking Matthew and Alfred into consideration. God, if he ever had to choose between his brothers and his soul mate. It'd be worse than death and he'd end up resenting both parties. He deleted the previous dribble and wrote one line of absolute truth.
'I met my soul mate, but I'm too afraid to give him a chance because he could ruin me.'
Snorting and more than a little buzzed, Arthur sent the one line off to Ludwig. He could chew on that for the next few days. Arthur sprawled across the couch, intent on sleeping back into sobriety, but before he could settle in an email lit up the screen. The flashing urgent symbol made him close his eyes and push the computer away with his foot. But even with his eyes closed Arthur could see the flashing. Angrily he opened the email just to rid himself of the nuisance.
'Arthur,
Your articles are now being published online in real time. The story is garnering too much popularity to wait for weekly segments. The readers like seeing your reactions as they occur. Upload the next update when your ready.
Ludwig'
A link was included in the email and Arthur stared at it for several moments before clicking it. The webpage that opened was a professional black and white page. The clean lines gave him some distance to the situation. Arthur scrolled through past posts with a heavy heart.
The smell of garlic and onions wafted through the flat. This was going to be his best dinner yet. A red sauce bubbled on the stove and the pasta just needed to be drained. The boys would love it. His mobile rang and Arthur paused to check the caller ID. It was a New York number. With a furrowed brow he picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Salut Arthur," a lyrical voice greeted him.
Arthur grabbed the boiling pot in shock. It fell to the ground with a clatter and pasta spilled everywhere. Wide red blisters spread across the palm of Arthur's right hand and fingers. The man cursed and rushed to the sink. His mobile skidded under the counter with a tinny shout. The lukewarm water sent shards of pain lacing up his hand. Arthur hissed and stumbled over to the fridge to grab the mustard. He smeared the yellow condiment over the wound. Slowly the fire in his hand began to ebb. Something squished and Arthur looked under his foot to see a wayward noodle flattened to his sole.
"Bollocks," Arthur swore at the ruined dinner on the ground.
Gingerly he picked up the pot and swept up the noodles. The mustard left yellow finger prints on everything. He shook the ruined pasta into the bin. With a grumble he picked his way over to the takeaway menus. At least the boys would be pleased, they always preferred when he didn't cook. A red and yellow menu caught his eye.
"I'm ordering Thai!" Arthur called up the stairs, "What do you both want?"
"Yellow curry chicken!" came the unanimous response.
Arthur snorted but jotted down three yellow curries with chicken. He searched for his phone to place the order and the reason for the ruined dinner came rushing back to him. Quickly he searched for his mobile, finding it hiding with the dust bunnies under the cupboard.
"Francis, are you still there?" Arthur asked, but only the dial tone responded.
With a sigh, Arthur dialed the Thai place and left his order. His computer while he waited. Arthur didn't like talking on the phone, so he wasn't sure why he'd given Francis his number. But he'd made the attempt to call even after Arthur had left so spectacularly at the café. Maybe Francis thought it could work out? Didn't he owe it to the other man to try? Arthur huffed at the thoughts. It was easier when he only had himself and the boys to look after… and yet a small warmth drew his hands to the keyboard. With slow fingers, Arthur began typing.
'I live in Brooklyn with my two younger brothers. Our parents are dead and our older brothers are a disappointment. I'd never choose between the twins and you so, before we begin any kind of relationship, you'd need to accept that they would be part of our life. If that is agreeable to you then you should also know that I often write at night. Since I can't function without tea so I will undoubtedly ask you to run to the shops at midnight to replace an empty tin. Also because you are French I will likely call you every foul name at least once before we die. If after all of that you would still have me, then you will find me in the Rose Reading Room at the New York Public Library tomorrow at ten am.'
Dried mustard flakes littered the keys like dandruff. The burn across his fingers forced Arthur to keep the letter short. That would have to do.
The Timer Articles 9/10
(Anonymous) 2014-02-08 09:54 pm (UTC)(link)----------------------------------------------
The smell of garlic and onions wafted through the flat. This was going to be his best dinner yet. A red sauce bubbled on the stove and the pasta just needed to be drained. The boys would love it. His mobile rang and Arthur paused to check the caller ID. It was a New York number. With a furrowed brow he picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Salut Arthur," a lyrical voice greeted him.
Arthur grabbed the boiling pot in shock. It fell to the ground with a clatter and pasta spilled everywhere. Wide red blisters spread across the palm of Arthur's right hand and fingers. The man cursed and rushed to the sink. His mobile skidded under the counter with a tinny shout. The lukewarm water sent shards of pain lacing up his hand. Arthur hissed and stumbled over to the fridge to grab the mustard. He smeared the yellow condiment over the wound. Slowly the fire in his hand began to ebb. Something squished and Arthur looked under his foot to see a wayward noodle flattened to his sole.
"Bollocks," Arthur swore at the ruined dinner on the ground.
Gingerly he picked up the pot and swept up the noodles. The mustard left yellow finger prints on everything. He shook the ruined pasta into the bin. With a grumble he picked his way over to the takeaway menus. At least the boys would be pleased, they always preferred when he didn't cook. A red and yellow menu caught his eye.
"I'm ordering Thai!" Arthur called up the stairs, "What do you both want?"
"Yellow curry chicken!" came the unanimous response.
Arthur snorted but jotted down three yellow curries with chicken. He searched for his phone to place the order and the reason for the ruined dinner came rushing back to him. Quickly he searched for his mobile, finding it hiding with the dust bunnies under the cupboard.
"Francis, are you still there?" Arthur asked, but only the dial tone responded.
With a sigh, Arthur dialed the Thai place and left his order. His computer while he waited. Arthur didn't like talking on the phone, so he wasn't sure why he'd given Francis his number. But he'd made the attempt to call even after Arthur had left so spectacularly at the café. Maybe Francis thought it could work out? Didn't he owe it to the other man to try? Arthur huffed at the thoughts. It was easier when he only had himself and the boys to look after… and yet a small warmth drew his hands to the keyboard. With slow fingers, Arthur began typing.
'I live in Brooklyn with my two younger brothers. Our parents are dead and our older brothers are a disappointment. I'd never choose between the twins and you so, before we begin any kind of relationship, you'd need to accept that they would be part of our life. If that is agreeable to you then you should also know that I often write at night. Since I can't function without tea so I will undoubtedly ask you to run to the shops at midnight to replace an empty tin. Also because you are French I will likely call you every foul name at least once before we die. If after all of that you would still have me, then you will find me in the Rose Reading Room at the New York Public Library tomorrow at ten am.'
Dried mustard flakes littered the keys like dandruff. The burn across his fingers forced Arthur to keep the letter short. That would have to do.
Re: The Timer Articles 10/10
(Anonymous) 2014-02-08 09:55 pm (UTC)(link)Arthur ripped the tie from his neck and ran a hand through his hair, "What was I thinking?" he demanded at the mirror. The twins were hanging out in his room while he got ready. Alfred drummed his heels against the bed while Matthew stared at him from upside down.
"Aw c'mon, it'll be ok," Alfred exclaimed hopping up.
Arthur threw the tie on the toilet seat and huffed. The plain grey button up was still fancier than he'd wear any other day. If only he could pull off making a jumper look trendy Arthur thought looking longingly at his wardrobe.
"He's your soul mate," Matthew piped up, "He's not going to care what you look like."
"You haven't seen him," Arthur said waspishly.
Matthew stuck his tongue out and Arthur pressed his fingers to his face. His jaw was too narrow. After all this was through Arthur wasn't going to look in a mirror for the rest of the summer.
"Maybe I should try the purple one again," he muttered.
Both boys groaned at that.
"What time did you say you were meeting him?" Alfred asked.
"Ten," Arthur hissed through clenched teeth. He played with his hair trying to make it look more stylish, "That's it. I'm not going."
At his declaration both boys stormed the loo. The squeezed into the tiny space and backed Arthur on to the toilet.
"You've gotta go!" Alfred exclaimed.
"You look great," Matthew assured him.
"I do not," Arthur muttered.
But apparently Matthew was done listening to him because he ordered, "Let's catch the subway," and Alfred went scrambling out of the room calling behind him that he'd get the tickets from the bowl. Matthew prodded him from the toliet. He didn't let Arthur pick his shoes or coat and in response Arthur grumbled all the way to the tube station. Alfred ran ahead and came back with a cup of tepid tea.
Arthur took it with a scowl, "You're both conspiring against me."
They laughed and pushed him into the subway carriage. Arthur slouched into a seat and leaned against the glass. Manhattan flickered before him like an old flip book. The Chrysler building glowed like molten silver and ferries chugged across the river below them.
Ordinarily it took forever to get anywhere in the city, but not today. Arthur was positive the universe was in cahoots with the boys. The leafy trees of Bryant park swayed behind the library and a Mr. Frosty's was parked on the corner. Teenagers posed along side the lions flanking the building. Arthur shuffled at the base of the stairs. With a look Alfred and Matthew each grabbed a hand and hauled him up the steps. Arthur stumbled along after them swearing the whole time.
Three years ago, Arthur stayed up alone on New Years Eve and watched Sex in the City. He hadn't been able to afford a babysitter for the boys and it was on cable. Unfortunately for him, now the scene where Carrie was left at the altar kept coming to mind. He couldn't stop himself from imagining the scene again with himself in her place.
"Where did you plan to meet him?" Matthew asked.
"You're both grounded until the end of time," Arthur replied.
"The Rose Reading Room," Alfred answered for him with a cheeky grin.
Arthur scowled at the boy. The Reading Room was enormous. Arthur was sure that subconsciously that was part of the reason he chose it. When Francis didn't turn up he could easily lose himself in the books that lined the walls. His mind had always dubbed the New York Public Library as Literary Heaven so it would be an excellent place of solace.
The Reading Room was humming when the three of them stepped into it. The air con had turned the world aloe cool. People were hard at work taking notes and flipping through books. Tourists wandered down the center aisle taking pictures of the ceiling. Arthur's eyes flicked through the room nervously searching for the long golden line of his soul mate.
He wasn't sitting at a table like Arthur imagined, rather he was leaning against the edge of a table in the center of the room. It was impossible to miss him. Arthur froze and even though Matthew and Alfred tugged at his hands, he couldn't move. Francis had come. Arthur's heart rose like a hot air balloon. He'd come.
A lifetime of people wove in and out of Arthur's sight like a symphony. Dimly he noticed that although Francis had a hip popped he wasn't slouching, but standing up tall and gazing around the room. Then Francis looked his way. A grin split across his face and the blonde pulled himself away from the table. Arthur's hands tightened around the twin's. His fears must have slipped on to his face because his soul mate's expression went as tender as a tulip.
Francis stopped a few paces in front of Arthur. The Briton numbly felt his brothers let go of his hands. Their eyes stayed on him though. He and Francis were like the sun at the center of a galaxy with all the other people spinning around them. Francis raised Arthur's wrist to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to the blue signature. Arthur's heart bucked in his chest at the gesture.
"Of course, that is agreeable," his soul mate whispered.
Arthur grinned so wide his eyes crinkled. It was an answer he hadn't even realized he'd been hoping for. He turned his hand into Francis's cheek and the other man pressed into the gesture like an affection-starved kitten. In that gesture Arthur could read the reason for his soul mate's decision clearly. The silent ache for love was something Arthur was all too familiar with. Arthur gazed at Francis, traces of a sun burn lingered under his golden tan and laugh lines beginning to form around his moth. With a nuzzle, Francis opened his eyes. Their color reminded Arthur of two pale chips of blue ice.
As if the foot of distance was too much Francis pulled Arthur into a tight hug and Arthur laughed like a child. His soul mate's musky cologne washed over Arthur. Francis's nose pressed into Arthur's sandy hair. Arthur knew what he'd smell, sandalwood and summer heat. Francis's hands went flat against Arthur's lower back, unconsciously kneading at the tense muscles and Arthur adore him a little more for that. Arthur's ears had been trained to hear for his brother's hidden tears for many years now, and even though he couldn't hear anything remotely like crying from his soul mate, the overwhelming feeling of fragility resonating from Francis made Arthur linger in the hug much longer than he would have otherwise.
Whispering pulled him out of the trace he'd fallen into and Arthur pulled away from Francis with a frown. Matthew and Alfred were both bright red, but grinning. Arthur was sure all their future teasing would stem from this moment. Francis pouted at the loss.
Clearing his throat Arthur pushed the twins foreword, "these are my brothers," he said.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you," they chorused together and in the back of his mind Arthur was proud at their manners.
The four of them shuffle for a moment, no one quiet sure what to do when Alfred piped up, "Well we're going to go to the computer room. Come get us when you're done!" With that statement he dragged his unresisting twin towards the stairs.
Francis's attention turned back to Arthur and the Brit wished that Francis could glimpse what he was like before he became an exhausted surrogate father and timid, over-worked immigrant. For him to see Arthur in his glory days, when he was punk strong and pirate cocky with a taste for adventure as wide as the oceans.
Francis asked, "Have you been here before?"
Arthur nodded, ignoring his emotions to reply, "Yeah it's," his voice cracked and a blush swept across his face, "it's one of my favorite places in the city."
Francis's expression turned wistful, "I've never been before. What is your favorite thing to see?" he asked.
A shy smile peeked across Arthur's face and he thought of all the treasures housed in the building. The answer he gave to answer wasn't the same one he'd give to someone else asking. To his brothers he might say the rough draft of the US Constitution or the original Winnie-the-Pooh in the children's section, but to his soul mate he said, "The Lenox-Hunt Globe."
Francis's head tilted, "Why that? What's so special about it?"
Arthur's eyebrows rose, "What's so special?" he spluttered, "it's the second oldest globe in the world! It nearly predates Columbus!"
Francis chuckled at his passionate response and Arthur led them towards the globe. While they walked he spoke about the hilarious shape of the Australia and complete nonexistence of North America. Francis threaded his arm around Arthur's waist and even though Arthur's first thought was to shrug him off, he didn't. Francis was someone he'd let hold him.
The End.
Late!Anon
(Anonymous) 2014-02-10 01:42 am (UTC)(link)Even later!Anon
(Anonymous) 2014-02-10 05:41 pm (UTC)(link)A!A
(Anonymous) 2014-02-11 03:58 pm (UTC)(link)I'm really glad you like it!! I was slightly concerned over the lack of comments :D This was just suppose to be a quick writing exercise (I needed practice writing IC Arthur) but it morphed and grew into this 40 page monster. I might come back to it and work our their relationship, but I've got other stories on my plate right now.
But I'm thrilled that if/when I do a bit on there relationship they'll be an audience for it!!!
Re: A!A
(Anonymous) 2014-02-16 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)(2) This fic was beautiful! I loved how fragile Arthur and Francis were, how knowing who your soulmate was didn't mean you didn't have to do the leg work. And I love how cute the twins were. Normally, France/Francis is one of my least favorite characters, but it's fics like this that make me love him with England/Arthur in the fandom. You made him into a real, likeable person. He was still recognizable and not ooc; you showed me the layers that are so easy to over look.
(3) I do hope you continue this. I would love to watch their relationship unfold and develop.