13UK: chuffed to bits = very pleased.
US: I'm pretty sure that 'chuff' is used as a nicer term for 'fart' or... the body part out of which it comes out.
Chapter V
Never in his life had Alfred been gladder to leave a place than now! He'd take detention with Mr Beker any time over returning to Smith's office. Mind you, that was the one person whom he truly despised through all his high school years. He could have sworn the man had been doing some satanic shit and used him as sacrifice – why else would someone torture students with neverending hours of being locked up in the math's room and forced to write the same sentence a hundred times on the blackboard. Make it two hundred. 'I will not run down the halls.', 'I will not laugh in class.', 'I will not call Russians commies.' Years later, he remembered the exact words he'd been writing on that board. Well, the main three anyway.
"Nice save there."
Oh, for a second, he had forgotten about Arthur. The very reason he might soon end up in jail. Yep, he was insane for even considering the idea of going along with the plan. Definitely and irremediably insane.
"The promotion excuse was good, so was the brother one. You could hire an actor to play the role of your brother, but I don't know yet how to deal with the legal issue. It's unlikely that Smith won't check your family tree. In any case, I'm chuffed to bits-"
"Shut up." Alfred turned on his heels to face a bewildered Brit. "Smith can check my family tree all he wants 'cause I have bros. Okay? Okay. And you're gonna meet my crazy family that's gonna freak you out this weekend – you're free to break the 'engagement' whenever you want. Get the hint? Good. I'll get the promotion because I damn well deserve it and a bonus of 30.000 bucks in advance for the fine. And... I don't want to know about your... chuffs."
"Absolutely not."
"Then good luck in finding someone willing to marry you."
"Settle for 10.000."
"40."
"15 and that's my last offer."
"50."
"…30 it is."
"I knew you'd come to terms!" Alfred gave the brightest smile he could manage. "Now propose me."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Ask me to marry you. Nicely."
"Fine. Marry me."
"That's the lamest proposal ever!"
"What do you want me to do? Get on my knees, confess my undying love and ask for your hand like a hopeless romantic?" Alfred's smile turned to a full grin that promised troubles. "You have to be joking."
"Whenever you're ready, sweetie."
Arthur's eye twitched.
Obtaining the promotion and early bonus of 30.000$ was the easy part. The hard part was getting Mr Little Devil to step on his pride, to embarrass himself, as the Brit probably saw it. In front of every passer-by who cared to eavesdrop or glance at the couple. 'Ah, sweet revenge!' Now, Alfred had never been a bully, but his boss fully deserved it. Life was a bitch, right? Slapping you when you expected the least.
With a heavy sigh of defeat, Arthur pursed his lips. He looked around, then adopted the standard proposal position: on one knee and reaching for Alfred's hand. Which Alfred refused to give, but the gesture must have counted for something. As begrudgingly and forced as his action were, his voice matched them. "Alfred Jones-"
"You forgot the F."
"Of course." Strained words, spit with disdain. "Alfred F. Jones. Would you be so kind as to… grant me the privilege-" Yes, he deserved a medal for just that one word. "-of being my husband for the following twelve months-" Ruined it. "-so I can stay in America and you can get your promotion and bonus?"
While he had to admit that his boss looked absolutely lovely on his knees and defeated, the proposal was a bit disappointing. Not that he expected much. How did any woman find that guy charming? Alfred had counted at least six girlfriends since he had become assistant and many more one-nightstands picked up at fancy bars.
"I'm flabbergasted, dude. Where did you get your lines from?"
"From the very bottom of my heart." That black, evil heart, if any at all existed? Alfred refrained from speaking the question. "Well?"
"You knocked me out, dude." The American let out a victorious – overly-pleased – sigh. "I will. Pack your things, baby, we're leaving tomorrow!"
Warning given, he jumped into the car and drove away before he could hear any objections. He'd hear them the following day, all the way to Texas, all about how he'd left his boss on his knees in the middle of the street and then forced him to go to a place as hot as hell. If he remembered right – and he did – Arthur was not fond of heat. Good!
Arthur woke up to the noise of water dripping on his sill. The pouring rain was whipping the window, making almost impossible to see anything outside. It didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, for the sky was an endless mass of grey clouds. Not a single ray of sun slipped through. Gloomy, depressing and hopeless.
The weather matched his mood.
With a heavy sigh, he dragged his body out of bed. He didn't look forward to the new day. He had never been fond of cowboys and wasn't Texas their haven? A bunch of men with huge egos, thinking themselves the epitome of manliness, yet with an impressive lack of manners. Dust and horse shite to top it all. Had Jones really grown up there? He'd give Texas the benefit of the doubt if just to see his assistant being thrown off a horse. Oh, yes, he would have liked to see that! See how that serves the lad – it should teach him to think twice before forcing his boss into going to places he despised. Not like he had ever been to Texas.
One of RED's song was his cue that Jones arrived. Fifteen minutes earlier, which could only mean the lad was eager to start his annoying game. Arthur had no doubt that the whole Texas thing was payback for years of working as his assistant, although he recalled making decent requests. Perhaps some extra hours or a couple weekends at the office, but he had mentioned them in Alfred's file, which would be beneficial on the long run.
His expression was a mix of amusement and pity. His boss, waiting on the edge of the sidewalk, right next to a pool, wore one of his most expensive suits and held a luggage in one hand and an umbrella in the other hand. His face read smug, maybe a bit stiff too. The businessman looked so out of place, so elegant in such a dump landscape created by the rain, that the whole image was plain funny.
Arthur crooked an eyebrow when Alfred refused to get out the vehicle in order to help him with the luggage. He resisted the temptation of waiting for the Brit to get closer, then reverse the car and splash his fancy suit. It was too early in the morning to be that mean.
After Jones ignored a gentleman's manners – or an assistant's duties – for a few minutes, Arthur released an annoyed breath, dragged his baggage to the car and threw them on the backseats. Shit, they would have gotten damp by the time they would reach their destination. The American pursed his lips, not mentioning it when his boss took the seat next to the driver.
"What clothes did you shove in there?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're wearing a suit at 5 a.m. on the way to Texas." Alfred drove off. "Are those patent leather shoes?"
"Keep your eyes on the road."
The American rolled his eyes instead. "Dude, there's no other car on the road!"
"But there are trees you can crash into."
"God," he groaned. Was Arthur going to pick on his driving the whole ride? He'd better not! He made a mental note to let his boss cross the distance to the other state by foot if he kept on focusing too much on the driving. "Whatever."
"Yes." No reply, just a confused glance. "Yes, they are patent leather shoes."
"You don't have to impress my parents, you know?"
"I won't be trying to; their opinion on me won't make a different. These are my favourite shoes and quite comfortable."
Alfred couldn't help but snort with laughter. "Baby, you're so gonna hate Texas!"
Arthur frowned a bit, trying to make sense of his 'fiance's amusement. He already hated Texas, but what did his shoes have to do with it? They were comfortable and – yes, they would make a good impression even if he didn't care about Alfred's family's thoughts about him. Speaking of which, had the lad described his relatives as crazy and warned him they'd freak him out? He scoffed at the idea. Jones hadn't met the Kirkland family! He hadn't seen his brothers in years – he didn't miss them and he guessed the feeling was mutual – but he could bet they stayed as aggravating as always.
"Shall we go over the standard questions while we get to your home town? There are a few details that Smith will ask and you should know how to answer to match m-"
"No."
The Brit raised an eyebrow. They would later, whether the American like it or not. They should have been prepared to give matching responses to the question and he was fairly sure that some details Alfred would never know.
Wow, I can't believe it's been a year since my last update! I'm alive, don't worry, and I'll try to be faster on updates.
I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed, faved and followed. I hope you're still putting up with my slow updates and you're still interested in this fic.
So what do you think about this chapter? Reviews are much appreciated.