The Englishman sat in his favorite spot in the corner bookstore cafe, the cushy red chair in the corner, away from the main cafe traffic. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, nothing was going on. So here he sat, re-reading Charles Dickens for the untold time.

"Hey, can I use the honey?"

Arthur looked up at the young man who had spoken, his bright blue eyes matching his smile. He seemed freshly pressed, except for the bomber jacket which was old and worn. His dog tags shone like they were fresh out of the box.

"Sure," he replied as he passed the little, bear shaped bottle.

"Thanks," he said pouring some in his drink, "Hey is that Charles Dickens?"

"Yeah," the Brit replied, not saying anything as the man sat down at the table with him. He had always been an anti social person, and if the blonde wanted to sit at his table that was his business.

"I like his take on England, it's realistic," the American replied sipping his coffee.

Arthur paused, setting aside the book. Maybe he could actually have a nice conversation about literature with someone for once.

"You don't think it's too pessimistic?" Arthur said shyly.

"Naw, things had to have sucked back then. My name's Alfred by the way. Alfred Jones." the guy said with a shrug.

Arthur took a sip of his tea, "Arthur Kirkland, if you want to know."

Closing time at the cafe found them still talking, having debated through Shakespeare and into George Lucas's later works.

"Hey Artie, do you think I could have your number and address? I'm shipping out to Afghanistan on Monday, and it would be nice to have someone to send stuff back too," Alfred said sheepishly.

Arthur was floored by the sudden question. Several thoughts ran through his mind at once. He had no question that Alfred could be trusted so giving out his information wasn't what bothered him about the question. What really bother him was that Alfred made it sound like he had no family to write back too. He knew from his police work, that people with no family were more likely to take risks.

"Sure," Arthur said writing his information down on a napkin, checking it twice.

Alfred smiled and pocketed the paper. "Talk to ya soon Artie!"

((Anyone see where this is headed?))

Arthur didn't really think about his blonde friend as he worked through the week afterwards. His work as a Patrol Officer was stressful and he rarely had time to let his mind wander.

It was a little bit of a surprise when he received the first call from, number withheld.

"Artie?"

"Alfred?"

"Yeah man! I'm finally here. Man is it hot!"

Just like that Arthur found all his tension and stress sliding away as he laughed at his friend, "What did you expect? It's the desert!"

"Well I'm not on the ground much. I'm a Pilot."

"Ah, so you spend all day with your head stuck in the clouds," Arthur said sitting down.

Alfred's laugh echoed through the receiver.

"Lord it's good to talk to someone."

"Is it that rough?"

"Not much on my end, I really feel bad for the guys on the ground. They get put in the most danger."

"Oh," Arthur bit his lip.

"Anyway I've got to go. I just wanted you to know I was still alive. My computer will be up soon, so I might be able to skype or email you soon."

"Okay. Bye Alfred, stay safe."

"I can't make any promises."

Arthur hung up. His worries about work replaced with new worries about Al. It was hard to imagine that they had met less than a week ago, and he was already that attached to him.

The next few weeks saw Arthur looking forward to Alfred's calls more and more. They talked about everything, jobs, old pets, crazy exs, and the like. The nightly 15 minute call soon became the highlight of Arthur's day. He started to worry that he was falling in love with the cocky blonde man.

The first night they got skype to work, Arthur spent most of the time taking just watching Al talk. His hair was messed up, more so than it had been they day they met. That one piece of hair still sticking up above all the rest. His smile was as bright as ever, but Arthur could spot the bags under his eyes.

"Al are you okay?"

"O'corse I'm fine, I'm over here being a hero," He said with a smile, before continuing to talk about the aid mission he had been on the day before.

That conversation went on until Al had to report to work, nearly an hour and a half later.

With the time difference they days when they could skype were few, but the nightly conversations went on like clockwork. About 4 months into the deployment Arthur slowly began to accept the fact that he had fallen in love with the eager, hyper blonde.

On evening he came home to a letter in his mailbox. He opened it to find a lot of photos and note.

Picking up the letter he started reading the messy handwriting:

Yo,

Arthur so I remember you said you liked getting actual mail. So I decided to write you a letter. Ain't I sweet? Things are fine right now. I can't sleep, but it's more because of the fact that the food really sucks here. Only half the meals ready to eat are actually great. You gotta be careful in the mess hall, their eggs are green.

I'm just probably going to ramble on in this, and I get sentimental at night so brace your self. LOL.

I'm glad I met you. You mean a lot to me. I really like you. Ignore that if its going to make our friendship awkward.

I mean forget that. Damn it this confessing thing is hard.

I know I joined the military to make a difference in the world but you gave me a reason to.

Like? Love,

Alfred.

P.S. Jesus I'm so corny.

P.S.S. Watch this letter get lost and not even make it to you. Then all my embarrassment will be for nothing.

P.S.S.S I sent some pictures too.

Arthur just stood there the paper shaking in his hands. Could it really be that his solider loved him back?

Looking through the pictures he smiled, most of them had been taken during Al's time off. They ranged from playing video games to playing basketball. There was one picture, however, that really caught his eye. It was of Alfred getting into the cockpit of his jet, with that same silly smile that he had on his face the day they met.

Taking that picture he slipped it into to an old frame on the mantel. The frame had originally contained a landscape picture that Arthur had never been bothered to change. It was a nice change to be able to look around his apartment and see something in his house that was personal.

Carefully picking up the letter he tucked it into the copy of Charles Dickens he had been reading the day he met Al.

Soon, he reminded himself as he put the book back on the shelf, he would see Alfred soon enough.

AN

So yeah this started out as an angst drabble.

The story ran away from me.

It may or may not turn out angsty now.