Apartment 4C

Two weeks had passed. Two wonderful weeks where Alfie was the perfect gentleman and had strived to make it up to Jake in every way possible. Jake knew (and had told him several times) that he didn’t need the overt displays of affection, but Alfie insisted. He insisted on proving that he was serious about Jake, and how could Jake say no to that?

Gabe was still a little hesitant about Alfie but Elliot seemed to be giving his full support (Jake wasn’t going to argue, obviously) so it was all Jake could do to welcome Alfie back into his arms and his bed with vigour.

To be honest, it felt like everything had gone back to the way it was before their argument, slipping into their old routines with ease. Even the Friday night routine, of take-out and movies, although tonight had taken a slightly different turn than usual. Instead of choosing a movie while they waited, Elliot had goaded Jake into a debate – a debate about literature.

The thing about Elliot was, that he had a very different taste in literature than Jake. Very different. Elliot preferred his typical American novelists, which was fine…but he wouldn’t accept that British literature was just as good, if not better. And their debate tonight had taken the direction of British vs American literature, the two of them sitting opposite each other on the sofas, Gabe by Elliot, and Alfie by Jake.

“…but the two aren’t comparable! American literature just doesn’t live up to the same standards as British Literature!” Jake huffed, “I’ll give you one thing though - I am impressed, that given its comparatively short existence, America has dashed off such an amount as it has of good literature. It has really only been about 200 years though, and this gives Britain about four-hundred years on us at least, plus the Old and early-Middle English stuff,”

“Stuff? Really Jake?” Elliot teased, making Jake scowl, “I definitely think American lit has a more contemporary taste, while English lit is more classic & refined. I love both for different reasons. We shouldn't forget the great poets, either-- Frost & Sylvia Plath, Wordsworth & Keats,etc,”

“We’re not talking about poets though, are we? British literature overpowers American lit. I’ve taken courses in both literatures and British is far more interesting and in depths than American literature. There is no American Shakespeare, Austen, or Bronte…”

“There has never been a British Steinbeck, Poe and Irving, too,” Elliot interrupted.

Jake rolled his eyes.

“You're joking right? Poe, Steinbeck and Irving or any other American author doesn’t compare to people like Doyle, Dickens, Eliot, Archer, Trollope, Hardy or Byron. And that’s only referencing British authors that have lived only since the independence of America. They, as a select group of Britain's literature history, far surpass anything America had or has today,” Jake said firmly.

“Absolute rubbish! Jack Kerouac, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Mark Twain are all legends!” Elliot said simply.

Jake just shook his head.

“America cannot compare. Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, Chaucer, Doyle, Hardy, Trollope, Eliot. Their names alone speak for themselves, and if that wasn’t enough, their reputations precede them and exceeds any that can be given to an American author. Why would they have these reputations? Because their works are taken by critics and the general public as being masterpieces of prose and mind. No American author, though I admit there are some good ones, can demand such a reputation in the world and perhaps even America. Why? Because their works do not compare,”

Jake finished his rant, breathing heavily, while Elliot floundered to reply. Hah.

“I have nothing to offer anybody except for my own confusion,” Alfie suddenly said.

Wait, what?

Gabe just looked as confused as Jake felt, but Elliot looked like he was thinking hard.

“Did you just quote Jack Kerouac?” Elliot asked slowly.

Alfie grinned. “My phone is just as smart as you guys!”

As Alfie wiggled his iPhone at them, Jake burst into laughter along with Elliot, even Gabe cracking a smile. Oh Alfie. Jake couldn’t help the burst of pride spreading through his body, pride in the fact that Alfie wasn’t getting frustrated over his lack of book knowledge, but was instead accepting it and having fun with it. His boyfriend was so perfect. Besides the fact he’d just quoted an American literary writer over a British literary writer.

“Sorry Jake, it’s two against one now, thanks to your boy. American writers are officially better,” Elliot said smugly.

Alfie shrugged apologetically, so Jake didn’t even feel bad.

“I think I can deal with that. Although I’m sure I can persuade him to come over to my team,” Jake said with a small smirk.

Gabe and Elliot groaned as they caught the implication in Jake’s words, Alfie not catching on until Jake squeezed his thigh, making the younger man blush.

“Wow, okay, it’s way too early in the night for this,” Gabe groaned.

“More beer? Anyone?” Elliot agreed, although his eyes looked so damn pleased for Jake.

And Jake would take it.

“I think Alfie and I should go wait for the food delivery downstairs,” Jake said simply.

“What?” Alfie frowned.

Jake rolled his eyes, making his friends laugh. Wow, Alfie. Jake just tugged at his boyfriend’s hand, making him stand upright.

“Yeah, you should probably get started on that persuasion,” Elliot teased, with an exaggerated wink.

Alfie’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly.

“Oh my God, I swear I’m not usually this slow,” Alfie groaned, making all of them laugh.

“I’m sure you can make up for it,” Jake grinned.

Whoops. That sounded slutty. Oh well.

“Okay, out! Now!” Gabe ordered, pointing to the door.

Jake just linked his hand with Alfie’s pulling him out of the apartment, smiling as Alfie immediately pushed him up against the door frame and pressed their mouths together in a hot wet kiss, hands clutching at Jake’s waist.

“God damn it, at least close the door!” Gabe yelled.

Jake broke the kiss, dropping his head to laugh into Alfie’s shoulder, groping his hand behind him until he could tug the door shut. Whoops.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself,” Alfie murmured, hands cupping Jake’s face.

“Trust me, I’m not complaining,” Jake grinned, “Where were we?”

Alfie grinned back and kissed him again.