This fanfiction is part of the Sing Together series. The Sing Together series is a group of USUK oneshots (this one won't be a oneshot fuck) based loosely around a collection of songs by Train. It's about time I did something like this. The AU and settings will differ between oneshots, and they won't be connected in any way. As such, I will be posting them separately.

Track 3: Bruises.

American air was so dirty. The ground was, too. Cans or bottles of various things were scattered here and there, sullying what would have been a nice airport otherwise. Nothing had really changed, except the damned weather. Arthur Kirkland had been planning to go traveling for a while now, but it wasn't his intention to be here, in this damned country again. He was stuck now, though, as he was not due to go back home for a week. Somehow, he had managed to get on the wrong plane, and only once in the air did he realise as much. He had stayed in America for a mere year, with his fickle parents eager to travel about, and he forced to switch between schools often. That year was long passed, and he had graduated back in England.

Snow seemed to coat everything on the street, and Arthur shivered under his khaki peacoat. Damn America. Why did it have to be so cold right now? He had packed for a warm destination in Europe, and his coat was all he really had for cool weather. And it was freezing here. Huffing, he hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to somewhere warm. The man in the front just laughed.

"Nowhere is warm right now, guv'na." the driver scoffed. "Even inside, y' still need to wrap up warm and toasty."

"Alright, take me somewhere to get warm." Arthur tried, burying his hands in his pockets.

"Same answer, pal."

"Look, can you just bloody take me somewhere with heaters and hot tea?" He jeered, irritated. "I just got off a very long and tedious flight, and if I have to deal with another moment of cold, I will throw this cab all the way to the River Thames!"

"What a temper-" the driver said, but stopped mid-sentence.

"What now? Doubting my ability to toss this car?" Arthur sneered, rolling his eyes.

"No way.." the driver mumbled, and Arthur just creased his brow. "Excuse me if I'm wrong, but is your name Arthur?" He froze.

"What the hell.. How do you know that?" he spat, resting his hands in his lap now.

"Arthur Kirkland?" The driver seemed to become a little excited.

"What's it to you?" Arthur sneered, shoulders hunched. He couldn't see the driver due to the dark wall between front and back seats – excepting a rectangular peephole for sound to pass through - but if he could have..

"It's me! You don't recognize me?" the man in front asked quickly, turning around in his seat and looking through the hole in the separating wall.

Arthur recognized those bright blue eyes in an instant.

"Alfred?" he gawked, shuffling back in surprise. "What're you doing driving cabs?"

"It's good to see you too," Alfred laughed. "I'm driving taxis because it's my job. Oh man, we have so much catching up to do."

"I'm still freezing, asshat, so get driving." Arthur instructed, poking at Alfred's eyes through the peephole.

Alfred chuckled to himself and turned, putting the car into drive, and doing just that, driving. "Hey, what d'ya say we get something to eat or whatever in a café? I can drop you off and come back when my shift's over?"

"As long as it's warm inside." Arthur conceded.

He hadn't seen Alfred in years. It was in tenth grade that he had stayed in America, and met that brilliantly stupid boy. Don't get the wrong impression here, they were never together, although they were friends throughout the year. Arthur kept to himself mostly, whereas Alfred had many girlfriends, usually one after another – there was a line for dating such a popular boy.

About halfway through the second term, a French boy had asked Arthur out, and foolishly, he had accepted. Their relationship was lengthy, but as Arthur moved back to England, that took on a whole new meaning. Arthur found that just talking on the phone just wasn't enough to keep a relationship together, especially when Francis stopped calling. He assumed that Francis just didn't have time for him in his bustling life, but one evening Francis had admitted to being in love with another, and they broke up with teary words and a smashed phone. Arthur didn't know, however, that Alfred had been crushing on him since the day they first met.

They arrived at a café, and Arthur stepped out after giving Alfred the fare. "See you," he mused quietly, before turning from the grinning man and heading inside. The warmth and the smell of hot beverages came over him like a tidal wave. It was lovely. If there was one thing he would admit he loved about America, it would be the delightful little cafés strewn about. Arthur sat and ordered himself a tea for now. This place didn't serve tea, however, and he quickly grew disgusted. Reluctantly, he changed his order to a coffee.

Alfred's shift had already been near its end, apparently, as he pushed open the door to the café with a wide smile. He slotted himself down beside Arthur in mere seconds. Now that Arthur got a proper look at him, Alfred had grown up splendidly. A slick mop of blond hair shadowed his eyes; those were beautiful and blue as the sky. He had glasses now, which was actually kind of cute. He looked a little odd without braces, but Arthur let that go. Alfred had kept his athletic physique, also.

"Oh man, it's been so long!" He cooed, resting his elbows on the table of their booth. "How are you, Arthur? What're you in America for?"

"I'm warmer," he joked, sneering. "I'm in America because I caught the wrong bloody plane."

"Really? Maybe fate's brought us together again at last." Alfred winked. Arthur felt a little sick.

"You still do that, I see," Arthur muttered, upper lip twitching just a touch.

"What? What do I do?" Alfred asked quickly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Flirt with everyone you see. It's annoying."

"Huh? I do not!" he protested, cheeks becoming red quickly. "I wasn't flirting with you, I was just saying!"

"Uh-huh. I dare you to go and talk to that girl over there and not flirt with her once." Arthur mused, pointing to a girl with dark hair tied up in twin buns, who was nibbling on a cookie and looking out the café window.

"I can't refuse a dare," laughed Alfred, who confidently marched over and said hello.

Arthur just watched, although he was unable to hear exactly what they were saying. Alfred returned ten minutes later with this certain look of vexation and disbelief on his face.

"How'd it go? You have a new girlfriend?" Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms.

"She gave me her phone number," Alfred whined, holding up a little piece of paper to show.

"Just as I thought." He puffed, looking into the coffee that he hadn't even touched.

"Okay, so here's where you ask how I've been." Alfred prompted.

"Thing is, I'm not that concerned." Arthur shrugged, creasing his brow.

"Oh, alright," Alfred puffed, not going to give in and say that his disdain hurt. "Well, where're you staying?"

"A hotel in southern Greece, apparently."

"Funny, how're you going to get there?" he asked, confused.

"I got off the wrong plane, idiot." Arthur scowled.

"Oh, so you have nowhere to go? You can come and stay with me while you're here, right? That'd be awesome!" Alfred beamed, practically jumping in his seat.

"How do I know that you're not some kind of psycho now?" scoffed the Briton, shaking his head. "Alfred F. Jones, serial killer and renowned psychopath."

"Don't be mean! You can stay with me, it's totally cool! I wanna show you my flat anyway."

After maybe a solid ten minutes of arguing, Arthur finally conceded to stay with Alfred for the week, but only if he paid for Arthur's food and whatever else he wanted. Alfred was quick to agree to that. And so, they traveled to Alfred's apartment, with Arthur adding more to his grudge with every step.

Alfred jumped about his messy apartment, desperate to make it just a little bit cleaner for the guest he hadn't been expecting. Arthur just watched, amused as Alfred scrambled about to slam this underwear drawer shut.

"You live alone?" he asked, hands in his pockets as he leant against the wall.

"Yeah, sadly," Alfred called from the next room. "My last girlfriend dumped me like two weeks ago, and she'd even moved in and stuff."

"Oh, the suffering." Arthur scoffed. "Luckily for me, I'll never know the pain of losing a girlfriend."

"What, because you're as gay as a.. uh, a gay thing?" Alfred smirked, trying to act cocky although his attempt at an analogy had gone down the drain.

"Yes, you got me. The gay thing. That's me."

"You still with Francis?" Alfred wandered over to the couch, now done with his mini cleaning frenzy, and motioned for Arthur to join him.

"Gods no." Arthur sat down, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "We tried a long-distance relationship after I moved back to England. He fucking cheated on me."

"I'm not even surprised, though," Alfred fiddled with his hands. "Francis did kind of have a reputation for that thing."

"I know, but I was young, dumb, and in love." Arthur sounded like he was reminiscing, but his little daze ended in seconds as a scowl graced his lips. "What ever happened with your billions of girlfriends in high school?"

"Eh, none of them were the one, I guess." Alfred shrugged. "I mean, I've been with so many girls and I don't think any of them have been the right guy for me."

"The right guy?" Arthur raised a brow. Interesting.

"What? Did I say that? Ahah, I meant girl. Or like, you know how 'guys' is a gender-neutral thing? Like that." He was quick to cover his tracks. "I haven't found the right girl yet. There."

"Alfred, you can come out of the closet whenever you're ready," joked Arthur, patting his old friend's shoulder.

"No homo," scoffed Alfred. "Anyway, I should set up a bed for you or something. Oh man, it's so great to see you again!" He cheered, bouncing up to his feet. "Y'know what, I have a bunk bed, so you can have top bunk!"

"Bunk bed? What are you, ten?" Arthur scolded, standing up as well and tugging the ends of his sleeves over his fingers. He felt kind of cute doing that. Huh.

"Bunk beds are the coolest things ever, you party pooper."

Apparently that was true in Alfred's eyes. And damn, was his room a mess. Clothes were strewn about – despite his previous cleaning efforts – and there was a stack of what Arthur would've sworn were old pizza boxes. They were covered by some kind of fabric, though, so he couldn't tell. Weird. Alfred's bed itself was a little cave. The top bunk was used to hang down a thin blanket from, one to shield the bottom bunk and make it a cute little cubby.

"You're like four, I swear to god," Arthur actually laughed as Alfred moved the hanging blanket and ducked into his little cave.

"You're laughing! Oh man, I missed you," he cooed, sticking his head out to flash a smile. "No homo, but like, I missed you heaps, pal."

"That's at least a little bit homo."

"No way. Now get in the goddamn cubby house."

Reluctantly, Arthur shuffled forward, moved the blanket, and crawled in. "Why do you have such a thing, anyway? You can't sleep on a normal bed, like a normal person?"

"That's no fun at all." Alfred turned on a little lamp, and the two were illuminated in the small space. "Ooh, I should show you my batman costume."

"Batman costume?" he tried not to laugh. "You're exactly the same as you were in high school, I can't believe this. At least I grew up."

"I do adult things, so I'm an adult!" puffed Alfred, crawling over to the edge of the bed and rummaging around on the floor. "I have a job and stuff, and one time I tried drinking but it was gross and hangovers are like having a giant lion bite your head off so I never did it again." After a few more moments, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and he lifted up a little bag. "Here it is!" He reached inside, and pulled out the costume, grinning as he held it up beside him.

"Oh my god, I'm sharing a cubby-bunk-bed-house with the Dark Knight," Arthur said mockingly, putting a hand to his cheek.

"I'm Batman." Alfred said huskily, lowering his voice to imitate said hero.

"No, I won't be your heroine in this film," Arthur joked, crossing his arms and sneering. "God, I never thought I'd see you again, let alone mock your taste in cinema."

"So sweet of you," Alfred chuckled. "Right, setting up that bed for you." He reminded himself. He stowed away his Batman costume again, before slipping out from the cubby. He went about gathering spare blankets and the like, and climbing up to the top bunk to toss them onto the bed. He finished with that, and climbed back down. As he parted the hanging blanket again, he felt his heart stop.

Arthur had taken off his coat, - it was quite warm in Alfred's flat - and was now sitting there with just a tank top and trousers. Oh sweet mother of god. During their year together, Arthur was always covered up with long-sleeved shirts and tenaciously refused to show any skin. There he was, arms, shoulders, neck, collarbones.. Alfred was rendered speechless.

"What?" the Briton muttered, staring up at Alfred as the American stared down at him. Alfred seemed to snap out of his stupor, and shook his head quickly.

"Just surprised, I guess, you were always one for turtlenecks back in high school. I've never seen your arms before." Alfred shrugged.

"Mm, well," Arthur sighed quietly, glancing down to his thin and pale limbs. "I had my reasons."

"Did you? I mean, like, what?" Alfred persisted, oblivious to the mood in the room.

"I already had my luggage taken to fucking Greece." Realised Arthur, changing the subject. "Fuck." Biting his lip, he picked up his coat from beside him, and put it back over his shoulders, covering them self-consciously. "Damnit all to hell."

"If you need clothes, I can lend you some?" Alfred suggested, ducking under the blanket and rejoining Arthur within the cubby. The thought of Arthur in his clothes, oh goodness.

"You'd be willing to do that?" Arthur sighed, burying himself into his coat. "God, I feel kind of bad for imposing so much on you. Then again, I remember who you are, and I forget about feeling bad."

"Wow," Alfred mused, raising a brow. "You're repaying me with your company, so it's fine. I get lonely sometimes, and I-"

"No, no, and no. I'm not doing anything of the sort with you. And for Christ's sakes, I don't want to know."

"I was going to say, I get all lame and clingy and I call my bro and whine to him relentlessly." Alfred chided, leaning forward and giving Arthur a playful nudge.

"Oh, right, you have a brother-" Arthur uttered quietly, having forgotten until now. "What was his name? I can't for the life of me remember-.. I just kind of remember he was a little cute." Alfred inwardly shook his fist. Why was brother dear blessed with a face that Arthur considered cute, and not he?

"Matthew. Funny enough, he's with Francis now." Alfred commented.

Arthur made a face like he was about to be sick. "Right, he's not cute anymore."

"Hey, I reckon we should do some cool stuff every day, since you're stuck in America. There's a fete-slash-festival being held by our old school at the moment, actually!" He piped up, grinning. "It started yesterday, and goes till tomorrow midnight. Since you're probably tired as hell from your flight, we should go tomorrow!"

Day one drew to a close with the two gossiping about people they both once knew, and making jokes about how either of them had grown up. Night fell, and for pajamas, Alfred offered a superman shirt and some shorts to Arthur, who hesitantly put them on and climbed up to the top bunk. He fell asleep almost instantly. Alfred had to refrain from taking a photo – that would be kinda creepy, regardless of how beautiful Arthur looked in his sleep – as he glanced over his friend. (No homo.)

"Night, guv'na."

idk when chapter 2 will be up shrug