England x Reader: Stupid For You

“What the bloody hell are you doing?! Get down from there!”

“Why don’t you get up here and make me?” You laughed down at him.

“Don’t think I won’t!” Arthur shouted, clenching his fists. The city officials were nowhere in sight, and he knew that the only way you were going to come down was if he climbed up and fetched you. But of all the ridiculously stupid tourist things to do, why climb on the lions in Trafalgar Square?!

He huffed and shrugged out of his coat, hanging it on the railing and ducking under, quickly scrambling up to where you were. You squealed and climbed even higher, mounting the lion’s back. He managed to snag a fistful of your trouser leg and held you fast, “Come down immediately!”

“No way!” You attempted to free yourself, but he only tightened his grip on the jeans. When he reached up and grabbed your belt in an attempt to drag you back down, you suddenly shrieked in surprise and flung yourself in the opposite direction, effectively dragging him up onto the lion’s back. He still had hold of you, however, and after slinging his leg over the lion’s back to give him more leverage, he promptly yanked you up onto the lion’s back in front of him and locked his arms around your waist, determined to slide off the lion’s back and drag you with him. You squirmed and pushed at his hands, but to no avail.

“Oi! You two!”

Arthur’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, and he paled. How did he always manage to get into trouble whenever he was with you?

“Get down from there!” The official shouted, running toward you.

You willingly leapt down from the lion, “Run!” You laughed, and took off down Pall Mall toward St. James’ Palace. Although he had no idea why, Arthur scrambled down and was right behind you as you ran.

“Oi! Stop!”

Arthur’s heart was pounding as he glanced over his shoulder to see your half-hearted pursuer slow and eventually stop. The two of you leapt onto the back of a 9 bus just before it pulled away, and you gave a salute to the official who was now talking into his walkie-talkie.

“I think we should get off at the next stop,” you noted, guessing that the official was radioing someone to intercept you at Green Park station when you got off the bus. At the next stop next to St. James’ Palace, you alighted together. However, in your haste to break into a run the moment you set foot on the pavement, you tripped just as you were stepping off of the bus and went down hard on your hands and knees. Arthur nearly tripped over you himself, but before he could ask you if you were hurt, you were back on your feet and the two of you began to run again. The incident of your fall forgotten, Arthur was about to snap at you and probably call you a few names, but just before he did, you reached back and grabbed his hand so you wouldn’t lose each other.

And then the world seemed to slow, and stop. For just a moment, he forgot his pounding heart and the sweat on his brow. For just a moment, he forgot the burning in his lungs and throat. For just a moment, he was lost in the radiance of the brilliant smile you gave him over your shoulder. He tightened his hold on your hand and ran harder, a barely perceptible smile quirking the corners of his own mouth.

You darted up an arcade on your right toward the end of the lane and darted around pub-crawlers and other passersby to the next street over. He pulled you to a stop, “I need a rest,” he gasped, grabbing his knees and wheezing for breath. You leaned back against a wall and did the same, still grinning, and then you laughed breathlessly, “I didn’t know you could run like that.”

“I wish I hadn’t,” he growled, “I left my bloody jacket back there. Thanks a lot—”

He stopped when he saw that you were laughing again as you held out his coat out to him, “You’re such a klutz. You didn’t really think I’d let you leave this behind, did you?”

He stared at the coat stupidly for a moment. When had you managed to grab it? You’d moved so fast he hadn’t even see you do it. He took it from you with a tinge of pink in his cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” you said brightly in response to his embarrassed silence. Then you suddenly tilted your head, listening, “We’d better get moving. I hear sirens.”

“What?!”

“Well come on, we’ll just catch the tube at Green Park.” You grabbed his hand again and nearly wrenched his shoulder from its socket as you yanked him forward, dragging him up the road and darting across the street toward the Ritz. Here the two of you slowed to a normal walking pace so as not to draw attention to yourselves. The sun was nearly down and it was getting dark. You hoped that the cover of darkness would be enough to help the two of you make your escape. Arthur could hardly breathe. Every step felt like a thousand miles as he heard the sound of the sirens getting closer and closer.

You seemed much more practiced in this sort of thing, and you made a great (and yet perfectly casual) show of acting like there was nothing wrong, and pretended to chatter about useless nonsense to him as you walked.

At last you had made it to the stairs and quickly made your way down to the trains. As you stood on the escalator for the Jubilee line, you glanced up to the landing and said very casually, “Darling, you’ve got something in your hair.” You smoothly stepped up behind Arthur just as he was starting to say, “What are you talking about—?” and then proceeded to pretend to untangle something from his hair, which caused him to lapse into scarlet-faced silence.

Although he hadn’t seen the yellow-vested official looking down the escalators for you, you had, and you knew that they had gotten a better look at the back of Arthur than they had of you. When you got to the bottom you pushed Arthur quickly over into the right tunnel so you might disappear more quickly. Fortunately for you, a train happened to be arriving at that exact moment.

But just as the two of you had slipped onto a car, you caught sight of the official out on the platform, peering into the car. He hadn’t caught sight of you standing by the door yet, but you felt certain that somehow he would recognize you the moment he saw Arthur’s wild mop of hair.

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed Arthur into the shelf-seat on the wall and leaned into him, shielding as much of him from view with your body and covering as much of his hair with your hands as you could. From an outside perspective, you simply appeared to be lovers, especially with the shade of scarlet Arthur’s face had turned.

Wait, scarlet...?

You suddenly became aware of how hard Arthur was blushing and you could see the throbbing of the pulse in his throat. Your breath caught in your throat. Why is Arthur blushing?

Meanwhile, Arthur was somewhat in a panic. His hands sat suspended in the air on either side of you, and his heart thundered so loudly that he felt sure that everyone in the car could hear it. Why wasn’t this proximity affecting you the same way it was affecting him? He hadn’t missed the official looking for you on the platform, but he had never expected you to pull something like this.

But then the train was moving, and the official soon slipped out of sight as the train pulled away. You sighed with relief and let go of Arthur’s hair, leaning away from him. Arthur abruptly straightened, looking away from you as his cheeks continued to burn.

You wanted to laugh it off but couldn’t seem to for some reason. As the train approached the next station at Westminster, you abruptly became aware of a pain in your knee as you braced yourself against the slowing momentum of the train. The pain suddenly stabbed sharply and your knee buckled involuntarily. Two hands shot out and caught you immediately before you could go down, and suddenly you found yourself pulled closer to Arthur than ever before. Your faces were mere inches apart.

Now it was your turn to blush, and when the train was stopped you straightened abruptly, your eyes never leaving his. You finally tore your eyes away from him and turned when the doors opened and you stepped off of the train. Two steps out you realized that Arthur hadn’t moved an inch, so you stepped back toward the train, grabbed his arm, and yanked him through the door with you.

That at least seemed to shake him out of his trance, and he shrugged his arm irritably out of your grasp, “Would you stop dislocating my shoulder, please?!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” you stuck your tongue out at him and then grinned at his irritation. When the two of you reached the top of the escalators of the station, you insisted on getting on a river bus, hoping that that would take your minds off of what had just happened on the train.

“Why would we take a bloody river bus when we can take a cab?”

You just rolled your eyes and began to drag him with you out of the station toward the docks.

It was just after you both had tapped out of the station that Arthur noticed that you were limping, “________? What’s wrong with your ankle?” Arthur stopped and peered down at your leg.

“Absolutely nothing,” you said cheerfully, swinging your arms as you continued to walk.

“Then why are you limping?”

“Oh, I did something to my knee when I fell getting off the bus.”

“Why didn’t you say something? We could have taken a cab.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” You snorted, “Cabs are way too expensive. I’ll be fine.”

Arthur’s lips pressed into a thin line that told you he wasn’t happy. You sighed, “If you really want me to take your arm, you could just ask, you know.”

“That’s not what I was getting at!”

“Well then, let’s go.” You started limping along again.

After walking in silence for a while, the pain caught up with you and you had to catch Arthur’s coat sleeve, “Hang on a minute, I need a rest.”

Arthur looked torn as he stood and waited with you. You knew his gentlemanly manner required that he help you, but you also knew that he was somewhat too embarrassed to ask to carry you. When the pain had eased somewhat, you said, “Okay,” and started to walk again, only to hiss quietly when a sharp, shooting pain went through your knee when you tried to walk normally.

“No, this won’t do,” Arthur grabbed your arm to stop you and then crouched in front of you, “Get on.”

You hesitated, your cheeks burning.

“Well? I haven’t got all day. Get on.”

After another moment of embarrassed silence, you said softly, “I’m too heavy.”

Arthur glared at you, “Are you saying you think I’m too weak to carry you?”

You tossed your head proudly, “I know you’re strong enough. I just don’t want you to know what a fattie I am.”

Arthur sighed and stood, “Enough already.” And, so quickly that you couldn’t protest any further, he bent and lifted you as though you weighed nothing at all and began walking again. You tried not to notice how close his face was to yours. You tried not to think about his arms around you. You tried not to notice how warm he was, or the way the muscles in his shoulders shifted as he walked. Presently you did something rather out of character and impulsively tightened your arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, and then you pressed a kiss to his cheek before tucking your head shyly down onto his shoulder, your head spinning as you screamed at yourself What the heck was that?!

You hadn’t missed the way he had stiffened or how he had paused mid-step for a fraction of a second. You didn’t have to see his face to know that he was blushing again. He walked the rest of the way to the river bus stop without another word, and when you got there he set you down and the two of you sat on a bench together to wait.

It was dark by now, and the reflection of the city lights twinkled on the water like stars winking in and out of sight. Arthur sulked as he sat next to you on the bench with his arms crossed and a sour pout on his mouth. You twiddled your thumbs for a while, waiting for conversation to happen. Presently you sighed and rested your head on his shoulder, which he responded to by going rigid for a moment. You didn’t understand why, but you always felt like you had an abundance of energy whenever you were with him, no matter how determined he was to be grouchy.

When he refused to speak to you, you thought carefully over his behavior toward you recently, and particularly over the last few days. It was clear that there was some attraction between the two of you, but did he feel anything more, you wondered? You had always loved him, right from the very beginning, but you had contented yourself with the idea that just being friends would be enough for you. It had never crossed your mind until now that he might return your feelings.

The idea made you feel giddy; so giddy, in fact, that you felt like doing something crazy. And then you decided to do something you had never done before in your entire life. Without stopping to think of what the consequences of such an action might be, you turned to Arthur, waited for him to look at you, and then leaned over and kissed him.

Arthur jerked away from you in total surprise and spluttered, “________! What the bloody hell are you doing?”

You grinned up at him, “Most people in the modern world refer to it as kissing.”

“No,” Arthur looked furious now, and he stood, taking a few steps away from you, “No, no, no. This is not another one of those things you just go do and then we all have a good laugh over it at the end of the day. I put up with a lot from you because you’re my friend, but this is where I draw the line!”

“Arthur, why are you so upset?”

“Because a kiss should mean something!” Normally this would be an excellent argument on its own, but Arthur wasn’t upset because you had kissed him.

You were not, of course, unaware of this. Still, there were only two people who you had ever seen Arthur get this angry toward before in all the time you’d known him, but never once had his temper been directed at you before. You felt like a child being called out onto the carpet for stealing out of the cookie jar, and you knew you had to say something to him. But even as you began to try and build an argument to defend yourself, suddenly, there it was. There was no need for inventing an explanation at all.

“It does mean something.”

“I’m not talking about some flirtation or teasing, I’m talking about something real.”

Your heart was pounding now, and you rose to your feet, your mouth working for a few moments before your next words came. You looked at the floor and then back up at him, “So, are my feelings not real, then?”

Arthur’s eyes flicked up to yours, and in that glance something softened in his eyes.

You gestured to yourself, “Am I not real?”

Arthur’s eyes silently searched your face for a few moments. The stillness made your ears ring as you waited for him to say something.

You fidgeted with your hands over your heart, “Or do you not feel the same?” Your heart thudded as you waited for him to answer you.

You were disappointed when he asked you a question instead, but he lowered his head slightly, fighting a smile, “What did that kiss mean, ________?”

You turned your head and smiled at him teasingly, walking subtly to the side as though to make an escape up the ramp, “It means I like you.” You shrugged, trying to keep it light, “Maybe a little. Maybe a lot. Maybe more...” You continued to sidestep toward the ramp, ready to run if he laughed at you, “But what’s the fun in just telling you how much?”

Arthur started walking toward you, which made butterflies dance in your stomach.

“You’ve got to earn it.” You grinned.

“Oh, shut it.” Arthur caught you in his arms, and you tilted your head back and laughed, putting your arms around his neck.

He was smiling now, and after kissing you again you couldn’t keep the smile off of your own face.

You giggled and then sighed, “You’re an idiot.”

Arthur pulled his face back to look at you, “Well, we both know you’re mostly to blame for that, love.”

You laughed again, “Does that make you my fool, then?”

Arthur sighed, but there was a smile on his lips, “Considering the amount of trouble I’ve gotten into since meeting you, the only logical explanation must be that I’m completely stupid for you.”

“We are all fools in love,” You kissed him again and then took him by the hand, “Come on, our ride’s here.”

Arthur had been so preoccupied with other things (for obvious reasons) that he hadn’t noticed the river bus had pulled up. You dragged him with you to the front of the boat where the two of you stood out on the deck together. The breeze was brisk out on the water, and as the bus pulled away from the dock, Arthur put his arms around you as the two of you watched the city lights in the cool darkness.

After a while you looked up at Arthur, who was looking out over the water with the wind in his hair. There was a new glow in his countenance that hadn’t been there before. You smiled to yourself. Whether a fool or not, he was your idiot, and you were hopelessly, recklessly stupid for him, too.