Party Stain - England X Reader
Why Arthur had even accepted the invitation to Alfred’s party was beyond him.
The music was deafeningly loud, his head pounded like it was being hit repeatedly by a sledgehammer, and currently he was being crushed between two fairly burly men as he tried to make his way off the dance floor.
He squirmed between them, trying to push them off, only to have them bump back with the beat of the offensively explicit music.
Instantly, he lost his footing and tumbled forward, hitting the floor roughly. He scrambled to get back up, dashing for an escape from the madness.
He wanted to leave. Now. And nothing was going to stop him. . .
Except knocking into someone considerably forcefully.
He was so focused on getting out that he wasn’t really paying attention, and when he turned the corner you collided, spilling soda everywhere and bumping heads violently.
Arthur palmed his forehead in pain, looking down at his clothes. His once white button-up shirt now had an ugly brown stain splattered across it.
This sent him over the edge. He was fuming and more than ready to give this person a piece of his mind.
“Oh my god I am so incredibly sorry. I- Oh god! Are you hurt?”
Arthur froze, stopping himself from mouthing off to the girl who stood in front of him. He felt his heart drop and his ears get hot.
It was you.
He had never spoken to you, but knew you were close friends with Alfred. He often saw you two together, laughing and playing, meeting up for lunch and hanging casually at his house. He thought you were the most beautiful girl he ever laid eyes on, and he wanted nothing more than to talk to you, but he couldn’t.
“I. . . um, yes, I-“ he sputtered, unable to finish his sentence. The worry on your face indicated that you weren’t satisfied with that answer and in a swift motion you grabbed his hand and sped-walked out of the hallway, leaving the spilt cup on the ground.
You led the seemingly dazed man through small packs of partygoers until you reached a closed room. You opened the door and herded him inside, shutting it and sufficiently canceling out much of the noise from outside.
“Here, let me help you,” you offered, rushing to wet a paper towel and wiping it on his shirt.
It wasn’t until the contact of your hands on his chest that he snapped back into consciousness. You were concentrated on getting the stain off. You thought it might be a bit invasive to do so, but the guilt of ruining his clothing was eating you up and you didn’t want to further upset someone who already seemed to be so angry.
Arthur panicked, but instead of wriggling off, he froze. His throat turned dry and the words that were ready to explode from him before wouldn’t come out. He stared at you intently and when you finally looked up, he turned away sharply.
He now faced his surroundings. It was a stark contrast from the rest of the party. It was clean and comparatively quieter, with the exception of the rowdy banging on the walls and the music playing.
You both were in Alfred’s kitchen, a place where Arthur was banned from a couple months prior for nearly starting a house fire. A snicker escaped his lips, thinking about how he would tease Alfred. He warned him he couldn’t keep him out forever.
“What’s so funny?” You asked innocently. You attempted to make eye contact again, but failed miserably, having him turn the opposite way once more.
“Ah, nothing. . . I just, um, remembered a funny joke.”
Arthur suddenly became painfully conscious of the crushing awkward atmosphere. He didn’t want to make a bad impression and so he racked his brain for conversation starters.
“I’m surprised there aren’t any burgers.”
You stopped wiping to give him a confused look. He instantly regretted saying anything at all, mentally slapping himself for it.
“Uhm, I mean that, uh, Alfred. He usually likes burgers. I mean. . . no he doesn’t usually like them, he does. Yes, he likes burgers so I was saying that-“
“Haha, it’s ok, I got it. No need to strain yourself,” you giggled. You found it cute how he seemed to be struggling. “I’m (Name) by the way.”
“Arthur Kirkland. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Another mental slap! He scrambled to figure out something to save him from the hole he was digging himself into.
“I mean, I see you with Alfred a lot. Not that I know where you are all the time, just that he talks about you a lot and sometimes I see you two together.”
“Oh, yea Alfred and I are pretty close. It’s funny because I think he’s mentioned you before, but more in a babysitter or spoil-sport way.”
“I’ll have to speak with him. I am not a spoil-sport, believe me. He and I just have very different perceptions of fun.”
You raised an eyebrow. “And what, may I ask, is your perception of fun.”
“Well for one, not this. I don’t really fancy being surrounded by sweaty, rambunctious kids. I like reading or quiet things. Big groups and I don’t get along, but I really enjoy small encounters like this. You’re the only thing in this party worthwhile.”
You smiled sweetly at him, making his heart melt. Your cheeks were dusted pink, and he wasn’t sure if it was because it was hot in the room or because you were blushing.
“Well I’m glad you’re enjoying my company. I was afraid you were upset, and I felt so guilty for ruining your clothes.”
“Don’t be, love. It was mostly on my part. I wanted to leave in such a rush that I wasn’t thinking.”
You let out a half-hearted laugh, rubbing hard to get out the mark.
“I wanted to leave too, but some of my friends here are making me stay. I’m their ride home, and it’s not like I can go anywhere entertaining within the time they’ll stay here. Anyways, the stain’s pretty much out now.”
You moved back, straitening yourself up and looking at him directly.
“Well, I guess we should get back now. . . er, or you’re going to leave, right?”
Arthur sucked in a breath, preparing himself for the words he was about to say.
“Maybe. . . you’d, um, perhaps like to come with me? I mean. . . not with me, but out? Leave I mean. I- argh, I’m not very good at this.”
You stifled a chuckle, covering your mouth with your hand. Something was so sincere and sweet about him that you just couldn’t help but think it funny.
“You know, I’d like that a lot. Why don’t we go for a walk or something.”
He honestly didn’t think you’d accept, and all he could do was nod in amazement.
“A walk. Yes, that would be nice.”
“Alright then,” you said, holding out your hand playfully. “Then let’s go.”
He took it and you both walked out, leaving the kitchen and the party behind.
The stain never fully came out, but it didn’t matter.
It was a reminder of the day that he first met you.