Arthur
hopes
Alfred isn't -too- upset.
Alfred
has
found a nice spot on the sofa, a fizzy bottle of coke, and a Star Wars marathon to smother his anger.
knocks on his door with a small tub of ice cream. Not that he felt guilty or anything...
glances up, quirking a blond eyebrow at the knock. Gets to his feet, unlocks the door, and pulls it open. "...What do you want, I said I
had stuff to do."
clears his throat, holding the ice cream out. "Yes, well... I went to the market to buy some tea and this was on sale. So... here."
blinks, cocking his head and glancing between the Brit and the small tub. "...You...got me ice cream?" Stares at him quizzically.
huffs. "Well, if you don't want it, then that's fine."
"DUDE, ARE YOU KIDDING, OF COURSE I WANT IT!" His expression changes dramatically as he snatches the ice cream from the male, wrapping his
arms around him in a strong embrace. "And I totally accept your food-related apology, hahaha!"
reddens slightly, and immediately moves to get away. "I-It wasn't an apology! I have nothing to be sorry for!"
pauses as his hug is denied, watching the other with a cocky grin. "Well of course you're sorry, why else would you bring ice cream, dude!"
huffs. "I've done nothing wrong to make you deserving of an apology. And I told you, it was on sale, so I bought it on impulse."
grins cheekily. "Uh-huh. Riiiiight. Well then I 'don't' accept your 'not' apology." Wink wink. Nudge nudge.
rolls his eyes. "...Take it however you will. In any case, I'll be taking my leave now; I wouldn't want to distract you from the 'stuff' you
had to do."
watches him for a moment more, before growling softly in the back of his throat. "H-Hey wait a minute! I mean. ...Uh. You just got here,
and there's this monster movie marathon thing on in a little bit...and... Japan can't make it over, so, like..." He cleared his
throat. "...You could stay or something..."
blinks, a little surprised. "Ah, well... I suppose I could. Just for a while, though."
grins, his spirits immediately lifted. Quickly, he grabbed the man by his arm and dragged him into his home. "OH, SWEET! You're totally
gonna love the movies, they're like, crap your pants horrifying! Seriously, I think I'm gonna be sleeping with the lights on for a month,
not that I'm scared or anything, here, sit down, I'll make popcorn!" Practically shoves Arthur into the couch before running off to the
kitchen.
rolls his eyes, following Alfred in. "Don't drag me, idiot, I can walk by myself." He knew he was going to regret agreeing to watch these
films when America shrieked in his ear later, but for now... well, he'd enjoy this while it-- "Ooph! H-Hey!" he cried indignantly, not
taking too kindly to being shoved down. "Ugh, impatient, over energetic prat..."
shuffles back into the room, happily clothed in superman pajama pants with a blanket slung over his shoulder and a bowl of popcorn under his
arm. He plops down next to the Brit and pulls up his legs, crossing them on the sofa and throwing the blanket over them before placing the
bowl securely in his lap. "DUDE THIS IS GONNA BE SO WICKED AWESOME. Like. Holy shit, I can't even wait, they've been advertising this all
week!" He speaks with a mouthful of popcorn.
grimaced. "Don't talk with your mouth full, git," he admonished. "And there isn't any need to yell, I'm -right here-. What is the movie
even about, anyway? It'd better not be another alien film."
pushes the bowl into Arthur's lap so he could grab some. "Nope! It's this Japanese thing, where some dead chick crawls around trying to
eat people or something-- DUDE IT'S STARTING." Oh. Right. No yelling. He shrunk in his seat, grabbing the pillow next to him to cling
to.
scoffs, finding that to be an absolutely stupid storyline. Nevertheless, he keeps quiet, though he does twitch when the bowl is shoved onto
his lap. "No. Shouting."
falls silent, quivering as the opening scene rolls, blue eyes wide and starring unwaveringly at the television screen. "...Shitshitshit,
I saw this in the preview, shit, something's gon--" The blond jumped three feet into the air as a man dropped dead, his eyes ripped from
his skull and blood splattering across the screen.
whines, shaking his head frantically. "But it's totally not the same as the previews, it's like a zillion times freakier, dude, that looked
so real!"
sighs, shaking his head as he looks at the screen, unamused. "...This doesn't even look realistic, Alfred."
tries to quiet his teeth chattering with more popcorn, nodding quickly. "Yeah! You're right, what am I thinking, it could totally never
happen, hahahaha--" Another jump as the creature attacked again, this time his arms flying around the Brit's neck. 'NOOOO! NOO! FUCK
NO THAT TOTALLY DIDN'T JUST HAPPEN I'M GONNA PRETEND THAT DIDN'T JUST HAPPEN--"
twitched, trying (and failing miserably) to ignore the screaming. "It happened," he said dryly. "He lost his arms. My, this is rather
graphic."
whimpers into the man's shirt, shaking his head quickly, finding the Englishman much more comforting than the pillow in his lap. "I told
you! I told you this was freaky as shit!"
scoffs, moving his arms to rest loosely around Alfred. But only because it was more comfortable, this way! "I wouldn't call this 'freaky'...
It's terribly directed."
"Terribly directed my ass, ain't cha ever seen a good horror movie?! This thing is beast! I'm never sl--- No. No. No. Don't. Open the
door. No. NO. TELL ME WHEN IT'S OVER-- Oh false alarm-- OH SHIT IT WAS BEHIND HER." His grip around the man tightened, practically
smooshing his face into his shoulder. God. He was never gonna sleep again. Never. Who the fuck came up with this shit?
reddened just slightly. "...You should've seen that one coming," he said, vaguely hearing his ears ring. "This is too predictable."
shakes his head frantically. "How! Dude, this is like, totally freakin' me out! What the fuck, I don't even know how I'm gonna sit through
this shit!" Evidentally, America found a way because an hour and a half later, when the movie ended, baby blue eyes were stilled latched to
the television, his arms quivering as they squeezed the Englishman's torso and his cheeks pale, colorless. This was the most silent he had
been for quite some time now. "...Shit..."
Arthur
was
a little uncomfortable from being squeezed so damn hard. "That was terrible in every sense of the word."
Alfred
was
incredibly unwilling to release the Englishman, or perhaps it was just the fact that he had held that position for so long that his muscles
Alfred
was
locked into place. He laughed shakily, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as he slowly peeled himself off of the Brit. "Glad
Alfred
was
that's over--! But I sat there and made it through, so score one Alfred. That wasn't so bad!" He nudged Arthur.
rolled his eyes. "That movie was a piece of shite. I really don't understand why you watch them if you can go without screaming the whole
time."
"Just cause you can't appreciate the cinematic genius that was that movie, doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it! And I wasn't
screaming through the WHOLE thing! Just the scary parts!" Protests with a huff.
dryly responds, "Of course... Is that all for tonight?"
nearly chokes on the popcorn recently placed in his mouth. "--Wait, you mean you're just gonna leave?! After that! Dude! You're not
supposed to split up, that's like rule number one! You split up, people die, didn't you learn anything?!"
sighs. "It's just a movie, Alfred, And I can't stay the night, I haven't brought any night clothes with me."
decides it's just about time to bring out the heavy artillery, giving him 'the look'-- the same look that got him an extra cookie before
dinner time and an extra ten minutes before bedtime when he was younger. "Yes you can, we're like the same size! You can borrow! Duuuude,
c'mooooon!"
highly doubted that he and Alfred were the same size, but... damn that look to hell and back. "...Fine," he grumbled. "But only tonight,
alright?"
And once again, Alfred's spirits, along with his expression, lifted. "Alright! C'mon, we'll get you pants and stuff!" Alfred grabbed
his house guest by the upper arm and lead him to his bedroom, rummaging through his clothing to find something suitable for the man.
followed, not wanting to get dragged. "Nothing ridiculous, if you will. That means no Superman designs, Alfred."
slowly placed the Spiderman boxers back, 'nothing ridiculous' probably including them. "Geesh, alright, picky, how about these?" He held
up a simple pair of blue pajama bottoms.
nodded, taking it. "Perfect, thank you. Do you have just a plain shirt?"
hummed in the back of his throat. "Uuuh." He took to digging through his drawers, finally emerging with a grey t-shirt. "Yep!" The blond
tossed the article to the Englishman. "That all? You don't need a robe and slippers too, do ya?" He joked with a snicker.
rolled his eyes. "Very funny, git. See if I stay up tonight for you."
Well, that wiped the cheeky smile from his face. With a huff, the American launched himself into bed and buried himself in blankets-- one
of the first and foremost ways of effectively keeping out unwanted creepiness.
went to the bathroom to change. He came out with his other clothes neatly folded, and placed them on the table. "...Very strategic, Alfred."
grumbles, peeking his head out from beneath his fortress of safety. "Oh shut up and get to bed-- WAIT." He threw the covers over his
head and shifted into a more comfortable position. "...Okay. Now you can turn off the lights."
shakes his head, smiling just slightly in amusement as he turns the lights off and lies down bed. "Scoot over, will you?"
grumbles and scoots over, keeping his eyes shut, because if he didn't see that it was dark, than it wasn't dark. It totally made sense. Yep.
settles comfortably under the covers, humming softly as he closes his eyes. "Try not to stay up all night."
grunts in response, quite content in his little blanket fort. Minutes passed. Maybe even hours, he didn't know. The digital clock was
close. If he just quickly lifted the covers away from his face, he could definiely get a flash of the clock, couldn't he? Bad choice. As
the American nudged his face out of the pile of blankets to get a look at the clock, he became very aware of just how dark it was in his
room. He chewed at his bottom lip, senses heightened to every little bump and creak of the house. Blue hues flickered to the Englishman.
"...Hey... Hey, Arthur...are you awake?"
didn't reply. He -was- awake, but he was so close to sleeping that it almost didn't matter. His eyes were closed and his breathing was
soft, and... really, he'd warned the idiot countless times in the past not to watch horror movies if he couldn't stand them.
"...Arthur?" His voice was softer now, edgy as he considered the fact that his guest really might have fallen asleep already. He extended
a finger, poking the side of his blond head. "...Artie?"
twitched, not appreciating that all. Sleepily, he grumbled, "What do you want?"
breathed a sigh of relief. Okay. Good. He hadn't been left to fend for himself in this horrific, probably demonic-entity-infested
world. "...I was just wondering if you were asleep is all."
sighed, turning around to blearily glare at Alfred. "...Go to sleep, Alfred. I'm tired."
snorts. "Well no need to get snippy, dude, I was just wondering." He turned his back on the male with a huff. And he laid there. But he
just couldn't get the image of that girl oozing through the wall paper out of his head. Eyes searched the darkness and he clutched the
blankets around him. Fuck.
hesitated for a brief moment before pulling Alfred back into an almost awkward embrace. One arm was wound around the American's waist, while
the other hand busied itself by stroking Alfred's hair. "Close your eyes."
couldn't help but jolt slightly at the unexpected touch, blue hues widening in surprise as he was pulled against the warm body of his
guest. He was about to protest, before he decided that maybe-- just maybe-- this would be a much more secure form of protection for the
both of them. And that was it. For defensive purposes. Of course. He frowned, a little peeved that his pride was battered, but rested
his head on the pillow nonetheless and closed his eyes. "...You smell like British food." He didn't know what that meant. He just felt
something had to be said-- also, thank you wasn't exactly an easy phrase directed at Arthur.
scoffed, lightly tugging on a few locks of Alfred's hair as a warning. "Do me a favor and don't breathe, then, git."
closed his eyes again, rather content that Alfred was shoving him away. At the very, very least, he'd be able to get some sleep...
snarled lightly and settled into the blankets, feeling a strange sense of security at the touch. Not that it meant anything. And not that
he liked it-- not that he didn't. Alright, the American was done thinking for the night. "...Bite me you old grouch", he replied, frowning
at the tug to his hair. The Yankee yawned widely. It appeared he was actually getting tired. Wow.
just hummed in response, going back to stroking Alfred hair, just as he'd done when the man was younger. "Goodnight to you too, you
irritating git," he replied, smiling just slightly at the yawn.
Another grunt in response, another shifting of blankets, and the American was out like a light. All of that screaming and being afraid for
your life really takes a lot out of a person.
unfortunately remained awake for a while longer. He continued to hold Alfred, sighing softly before closing his eyes and drifting off some
minutes later. The next day, he was, understandably, the first to wake, and quietly left the bed to wash up and begin breakfast.
awoke at around eleven o'clock, which admittedly wasn't bad for him, sprawled atop his bed with the sheets twisted around his legs and hair
tangled into rather interesting shapes. He looked to his side, noting the absence of a second body and frowned. Must have left
already--wait. The American lifted his head, the scent of food wafting through the air; his frown was quickly overtaken by a sweeping
grin, and he quickly shoved his glasses onto his face and made his way downstairs, popping his head into the kitchen to see the Englishman
working busily on breakfast. "Well mornin', sunshine, whatcha got cookin'?"
"Nothing too elaborate, I'm afraid; just some eggs, bacon, and toast. But you don't seem to have any tea, so you're going to go buy some."
And as ridiculous as the request seemed, Arthur was completely serious. He refused to start his mornings without tea, regardless of where
he was. For goodness sake, he even had tea during war periods!
paused, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "...You're shitin' me, right?" The boy's baby blues narrowed as he starred at the Englishman.
flipped the eggs, frowning when the perfect circular shape was ruined. "No, not at all. Go get some tea."
continued to stare at the male. Maybe this was some wacked up dream, and he wasn't actually about to be forced into a vehicle not ten
minutes after he'd just woken up to purchase a beverage he himself never drank. "...But dude! I just woke up, I'm still in pjs! Can't
you go one day without your nasty-ass tea?"
huffed, turning around with a disapproving frown. "No, I can't. So watch your language and go get some; really, Alfred, you could've been
halfway there if you just left when I first requested you to go."
growled lowly, snatching his keys from off the kitchen table. "Fine, but I ain't changing, and that breakfast better be really fucking
fantastic." He made certain to throw in another curseword, specifically because Arthur had told him not to, as he slipped into a pair of
warn-down sneakers.
rolled his eyes, and resumed cooking. "Really, that mouth of yours..." he grumbled, moving away from the stove to check on the toast.
"YEAH IT'S PRETTY SEXY." He shouted defiantly as he swung the door closed behind him. That was just the way America rolled.
shook his head. The toast seemed to be coming along nicely, and the bacon-- "Shit!" --was burning. He quickly turned off the fire, wondering
if it was still edible. It looked fine...
Just... slightly overcooked. Yep.
returned about thirty minutes later with a Wal-Mart shopping bag in hand, having gotten, admittedly, a little distracted. For not only did
he have the tea, but also a pack of gum, some hot coco mix, a cool looking bowl, and a giant plush alien. Some things were just too amazing
to pass by. "Here's your crappy tea. I didn't know what kind you wanted, so I played it safe and grabbed the blandest, most colorless box
I could see."
had the table set by then. Everything was, understandably, quite charred, but really, Arthur didn't think it was -too- bad. He took the box,
glancing at it for a moment before sighing. Well, tea was tea, he supposed. "Thank you," he replied. "I made you some coffee too, so you can
eat first."
quirked an eyebrow at the older male when he neglected to shoot an insult back, but quickly decided it must have been due to his lack of
sleep. "Alright, sweet, I'm starving." He took a seat at the kitchen table. It was best to mentally prepare oneself for Arthur's cooking
and allow the food to be brought to you.
went to make the tea. "Everything's on the table, and there's enough for seconds." Arthur wasn't too proud of his bacon, but damn - he made
some pretty good eggs.
scanned the table, mindful of the scent and color of the food spread before him, and admittedly, a little uneasy. You'd think that
after centuries of cooking England would have kicked it up a few notches. But no matter, Alfred had been raised on this stuff, it couldn't
be all that-- Hey. This was pretty good, he thought to himself as he munched on some eggs. "...You made this?" Munch. Munch.
came back to the table with some freshly brewed tea, and sat down. "Of course I did, you idiot. Did you see anyone else cooking?"
snorted and shot Arthur a frown. "Well it's kinda hard to believe, when the food ain't moving or spitting off puffs of grey smoke or
hissing when you poke it with a fork."
scowled, glaring at Alfred as he began to eat. "My food -never- does that, you overdramatic prat! If you don't want to eat, then don't!"
Another huff. "Ungrateful bastard..."
shoved another forkful of egg into his mouth, arguing as he chewed. "I said it's NOT doing that, I practically gave you a
compliment, dummy!"
frowned. "It -never does that! And don't talk with your mouth full, Alfred, it's disgusting!"
"You're disgusting!" He snapped, taking a drink of milk. Yeah. America knew he was boss at insults, no need to tell him.
just rolled his eyes, continuing to eat. "Says the prat that could hardly sleep on his own last night."
coughed on some of his breakfast, starring at the Englishman as though he had just spit in his milk. "Shut up you asshole, it was a scary
movie, you're such a jerk, I wasn't even that freaked out!"
looked rather content, at that. "It wasn't scary at all, and you were so frightened that you couldn't even sleep for the first half hour."
Wow. That was quite the face America was making, the look of someone about to throw a tantrum, really. "BITE ME, MEGA-BROWS, I could sleep
just fine! How do you know I didn't just wanna cuddle--- NOT THAT I WANTED TO. I'm just-- SHUT UP." Step one, lift foot. Step two,
stuff in mouth. Maybe Alfred shouldn't be talking so early in the morning, bad things happened.
didn't look affected by Alfred's shouting. (Really, he'd gone through this too many times.) "You're just embarrassing yourself, Alfred," he
said, sipping his tea. "Either you were terrified out of your wits, or you, for one reason or another, wanted to cuddle with me. I'll be
honest; the latter option doesn't seem very likely."
didn't really know what would be the better optinon-- admit he was utterly horrified or relay that he had wanted to snuggle. Both
options were kind of shitty. It was like losing either way. "Exactly! So shut up, mufff fuf fuf stupid fuf fuf foof--" The rest of his
rant went unheard as he stuffed a piece of toast into his mouth. Need a moment? Chew it over with burnt toast.
grimaced a little. "I just told you not to talk with your mouth full, idiot!" Really, he'd taught the git better manners! Where did they
all go? "And since you refuse to clarify for me, I'm just going to have to assume that you were scared."
hastily swallowed his food, for the first time in a long time, a bright pink hue dusting over his cheeks. "I told you I wasn't that
scared! It was a freaky movie and I couldn't sleep, simple as that, it wasn't anything, I'd just chugged a bottle of coke so I was probably
wired, okay?"
hummed, continuing to eat. "It most certainly didn't look like that to me. You only seemed to sleep well when I held you - ah, it reminds me
of when you were younger..."
Great. Here he went again. Alfred growled lowly in the back of his throat at the comment, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand and
internally cursing the heat that refused to leave them. "Well in case you haven't noticed, Artie, I'm all grown up now, I just got tired
and fell asleep, it ain't nothing like that."
huffed. "It's isn't, not ain't. And yes, I know you've grown; you never used to sleep with your back to me, as a child."
set his jaw, eyes hardening as he gazed at the Englishman. "Don't fucking correct me, and who're you, bringing that up. I also waited
hours upon hours on the docks, hoping, praying you'd been able to make it out to see me after however many fucking years, getting my hopes
up when I saw a ship flying your flag, and then getting an apology letter shoved in my face when something'd come up when I was a child."
frowned, feeling guilty almost immediately. He looked down at his tea, losing his appetite. "...It wasn't as if I didn't want to visit
you. I came by whenever I could. You weren't the only colony I had."
scoffed, shaking his head and glaring down at the plate before him. "...Yeah. I know. Good thing, too, it must've cushioned the
blow when I left." He scanned the Englishman's face, almost willing a scowl on those lips, a glaze in those eyes.
froze almost immediately, not having expected Alfred to go that far. He should've been over it, really, because that had all happened
so long ago, but he couldn't help it. It hurt, every time Alfred mentioned it so nonchalantly, in a way that really made him feel like
Alfred had left because he hated Arthur, not because he wanted freedom. "...Fuck you, Alfred," he muttered, standing up. He wasn't going
to cry. Not in front of Alfred. He left the kitchen, and then the house, with as much dignity as he could muster.
waited until the Englishman had made his exit before swiping the dishes before him off the table, planting his elbows firmly against the
wooden surface and placing his head in his hands. "Fuck..." He always took it too far. He always allowed his anger to fester, allowed
himself to carve open old wounds. He knew how to hurt the Brit, so he did. And Alfred didn't know why.
couldn't exactly fly back to England without reserving a plane ticket, so he was stuck just wandering around, upset. He was the idiot for
even coming to visit Alfred in the first place, when he was clearly unwanted. "Bloody prat..." he muttered, eventually finding his way to a
deserted park. He sat down on one of the benches, wiping at his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. He'd calm himself down before calling
his superiors for a plane ride back home.
had to make a choice, and he had to do it before the Englishman had hopped on a plane bound for London-- this just wasn't the kind of thing
that could be discussed via text messages. He didn't even bother slipping on actual clothing as, for the second time that morning, he
slipped on a pair of sneakers and headed out the door. He'd go on foot, Arthur couldn't have gotten that far and gas wasn't cheap. Now
he just had to decide what to say to the man...
definitely wasn't crying. Nope, most definitely not. It was just-- the wind was blowing directly into his eyes, that was all. The Englishman
sighed, rather frustrated as he quickly wiped at his eyes. He'd been nice enough to Alfred, hadn't he? He'd treated the boy like a jewel.
He brought gifts from all over the world, even gifts he'd made himself, and yet... he still must've done -something- wrong. But what...?
It didn't take long for the American to locate a sulking Arthur, getting a good view of his back as he sat hunched over on a park
bench, light blond hair shifting in the breeze. Alfred's gut clenched and bubbled with anxiety. What was he even gonna say? Hey, sorry I
reminded you about our break up, you know, the one that sent you into a spiraling fit of depression and an economic slump? Yeah, that
one. The blond shifted uncomfortably and hesitantly stepped forward, slowly edging nearer to the male. He stopped a few feet behind him
and cleared his throat. Yeah. Good start.
refused to turn around, and instead resisted the urge to walk away. Again. "You've already made your point clear, Alfred," he snapped,
obviously still quite upset. "Fuck off and go bother someone else. I'll get going relatively soon."
felt his spine prickle at the Englishman's tone. Wowzers, he was pissed. Like. Super pissed. More pissed than Alfred had seen him in a
long, long time. "I ain'-- am...not here to fight, man, okay? Look... What I wanted to say is...that... I mean... Maybe that was a
little...er...really uncalled for. And. I've come to say... that."
turned to glare at Alfred, exasperated. "A little? You always fucking do this, Alfred! Every time I try to be courteous to you, you just
throw it all back at my face! I raise you, give you everything you could possibly want, do my best to visit you, but it's still not enough!
Even now, I go along with your harebrained schemes, but have you ever once thanked me? Have you ever done anything but rub my losses into
my face?"
cringed as he felt the Englishman's glare drilling into his forehead, guilt clutching at his chest when he saw the tears in his eyes
. "...Er... No...I...haven't, but that doesn't mean you treat me with respect either! Don't pretend like you thank me! When the hell have
I ever gotten a 'Hey! Al! That's an awesome idea, good job', or 'Wow, I'm convinced you're not a complete idiot, Alfred'. You do the same
shit to me too! I ain't the bad guy... We've both been ass holes, so stop trying to pin this on me alone!"
scoffed, crossing his arms. "Then go to Japan! I'm not here to agree with you, I'm here to be your ally! If you have shitty ideas, then I'll
tell you that they're ridiculous, because I know you can do better! But none of that ever matters to you, does it? All you care about is the
fact that I have the nerve to disagree with you!" ...Yep, he was mad.
stepped around the bench to face him head on, blue hues squirling with anger. "I don't care that you disagree with me! ...Well, I do, it
actually really pisses me off, but I can get past it just fine! You think ALL my ideas are shitty! Why! They can't be all that bad, what,
are you just peeved that it was me who came up with it, so that automatically makes it shitty?"
scowled. "Maybe I am! The point is, Alfred, I can't make you happy even when I try my hardest, so there isn't any bloody point in trying to
please you at all!"
blinked, seemingly shut up, at least for a moment. His expression relaxed into shock, jaw going slack and brows drawn together in
confusion. "...Just trying to...make me happy?" That didn't make sense. To Alfred, at least. "You yell at me to make me happy?" He'd
probably missed something, yep.
Arthur
was
-this- close to either punching America or leaving. Or both. "No! I tried to make you happy when you were still my colony! I visited you
more than I visited anyone else! I gave you more gifts than I gave to anyone else! And still, you left! What did I do wrong? Clearly, it
wasn't only independence that you were seeking!"
turned to the side, tilting his face from the Englishman as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. A frown twitched at the corners of his
lips. Fuck. Why didn't he think through what he would say before tracking down Arthur? Why was he always so fucking impuslive? "What's
that s'posed to mean? You seem ta think it was something else, so why don't you tell me, Artie, why the hell did I leave!"
felt his heart clench just slightly in his chest. It was -always- like this, whenever he argued with Alfred; he didn't even know why he
bothered anymore, when it'd just upset him more and more each time. "Because you hate me! Because somewhere along the line, I did something
wrong, and now you're seeing to it that you make every single day miserable for me! I get it, alright? I give up on you, you're impossible!
I was the idiot for ever hoping I'd be wrong!"
quickly turned to face the Englishman, the shock evident on his face. "...You think I hate you...? And what do you mean, you give up on
me, what were you trying to accomplish! I can't hate you! I've never been able to fucking hate you, never been able to forget what
happened, good and bad, I've never hated you, as hard as I've tried! And stop trying to blame yourself, it's stupid and selfish and
ignorant! I left for ME. Not you! Me!"
just shook his head; pointless, pointless, pointless. If Alfred really thought he was stupid enough to believe this... ugh. The Englishman
just turned around, not really caring where he was walking anymore as he fished out his cellphone. "Don't bullshit me, Alfred. You've made
your dislike quite clear. And if it's our alliance that you're worried about, rest assured - it won't be affected."
didn't know the strange mix of emotions bubbling in his stomach, couldn't identify the guilt and anger and frustration and regret as the man
turned to leave. He didn't understand it. But nonetheless, exactly as what normally occurred, his body acted before his mind,
and he stepped forward, arm lifting as though he moved to grasp the material of Arthur's jacket but thought better of it. "...Shit,
Artie, wait--!"
"It's -England-," he snapped, looking through his contact list. "It'll benefit both of us if we at least kept our political ties."
felt the breath knocked from his lungs. This was really the end? Seriously? After all those fights, and arguments, this was finally the
last straw? No. No, Alfred was a hero, dammit, heroes were supposed to fix things, not tear them apart. He did the only thing he could
think of, the only thing that might change Arthur's mind, and he wrapped his arms around his neck in a firm hug. No talking. No
hugging. Not even breathing, really. Alfred just hugged. And hoped. Hugged and hoped.
froze, eyes widening a bit. For a brief moment, he felt the arms around him, but they refused to compute in his mind. But when they finally
did, his usually stiff shoulders slumped, and it took him all his willpower -not- to cry. "...I don't understand you," he finally said,
feeling rather defeated. "What do you want...?"
kept his face firmly pressed against the side of the Englishman's head, not really knowing what to say or do at this point. But at least
Arthur was still there. He hadn't beaten him away, or punched him in the face, or kneed him in the gut. Those were all good signs,
right? What else did he have to offer England but his honesty? "...I don't...know..."
knew that this really didn't fix anything, but... at the very least, it... made him feel just a little better. (Because this meant that
Alfred... at least -cared-, right?) "...Idiot," he murmured, reaching up to quickly wipe at his eyes. "Stupid, impossible, pratty idiot..."
felt the man shift beneath him, his chest shaking as the tears fell. Bitter guilt plauged the American's mind as a generally unseen
expression crossed his face. He was...sad. He was frustrated. But most of all, he was sorry. "...Shut up and hug me back, dummy." He
mumbled against the Brit's hair.
most certainly didn't appreciate being called a dummy, but that was honestly the least of his concerns. He turned around and wrapped his
arms around the American, while a part of him berated himself for always giving in so easily when it came to Alfred. Always.
exhaled a relieved breath. Good. They were hugging, almost making up. Unfortunately, he didn't know where they went from there. What if
he let go and Arthur made a break for home? What did he even SAY at this point to ease the situation? Alfred didn't know. He was using
his not-so-amazing judgement skills to assess that maybe he should just...not talk. Only hug. Wait for the Brit to make the next move for
once. Maybe that was it? Maybe if he just...shut his face for a minute, the answer would become clear. Or not, and he'd make an ass out
of himself by just standing there, either one.
sighed, eventually finally pulling himself together and calming down. It was embarrassing, just how quick he was to lose his cool every time
Alfred was involved. He remained in the embrace though, not pulling back as he said, "...Stupid git. The food's likely all cold by now."
felt a smile twitch at the corners of his lips. That meant that Arthur would be coming back to his place. That meant they were kind of
sort of not as pissed off at eachother as before-- thanks to Alfred's quick thinking and amazing ability to sooth a situation (he'd like to
think that, anyway, just roll with it). Wow, he was a real hero. "S'okay, dude, here in America we have these awesome inventions called
microwaves, I here they heat up food or something." There we go, loosen the tension with a little joking around. It was simply Alfred's
way of easing tension. Mooore talking.
huffed, unamused. "It won't taste the same, idiot," he replied, closing his eyes and committing the hug to memory before hesitantly
moving to step out of it. His arms felt rather empty, but he was certain that it was just him being overly sentimental. "And you don't just
microwave tea; that's disgusting."
Alfred
was
almost unwilling to let the Englishman to slip from his arms, but nonetheless, allowed him to do so. Regardless of how he felt, he offered
Arthur a good ol' fashioned, all-American grin, displaying that set of pearly whites proudly, relieved that things between them had been
at least somewhat resolved-- well, more like pushed aside for now, nothing was really solved. At least there was no more yelling. "Well
why the hell not? You can just nuke coffee for a half-a-minute and wham, hot coffee."
wiped at his ears one more time, making sure they were completely dry. How embarrassing... "Tea isn't trash like coffee is. I refuse to
microwave it," he said, straightening out his clothes to salvage his (already ruined) image. "And since this is all your fault, you need
to make me a new cup."
laughed as the man attempted to straighten his posture and his clothing and his expression. It was kinda cute how he-- Uh. Cute was a bad
adjective, he probably meant...something else. Like dignified, only not. Sure. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say Mega-Brows, I'll make you
your stupid tea...", the American groaned as he began the walk back home, happy, to say the least, that England would be joining him.
glared, though it was a half-hearted one as he followed the American back to his home. "Watch your tongue, you daft wanker; there's nothing
wrong with my eyebrows, so stop calling me that. And you'd better make it correctly. Do you even remember how to make a proper cup?"
laughed, pleased at the result of the Brit's unofficial nickname-- irritation without anger, that's what it was all about. "Of course I
do! You put the little bag..thingy in hot water and let it stump...or sloop, or something, then you drink up." He puffed out his chest,
proud of his recollection. He surprised even himself with his intelligence sometimes.
shook his head, sighing. "...To think, you used to know how to make a good cup of tea with tea leaves..." he grumbled, disappointed. "I
take it back. I'll make my own tea; I don't want to cringe every time I take a sip."
would continue believing in his tea-making abilities, regardless of what the male said about them. He was Alfred freaking Jones, he could
make tea if he damn well felt like it. "Nope!" He stated as he opened the door to his home and stepped inside. "You sit down, I'll
make the tea." And get a broom to sweep up the shattered dishes from the floor after his little temper tantrum. Maybe Artie wouldn't
take notice. Maybe. "Hey look! The paper, you should read it while I get the stuff ready." The American stated loudly as he went about
kind of preparing tea. Subtle. Always subtle.
raised an eyebrow, deciding instead to follow Alfred into the kitchen. "Absolutely not; you'll need someone watching over you to make sure
you do even a half-decent job with the..." he trailed off, eyes widening slightly at the sight of all the shattered dishes. "...tea."
paused in mid-step, holding a nervous smile on his lips and allowing an awkward laugh to escape them. He side-stepped directly in front of
the Englishman, blocking his view and attempting to corral him back into the livingroom. "HAHAHA, I'm so clumsy, I totally tripped and
shit hit the fan, it's really nothing to see, I've got more, no biggy, dude, I bet the morning news is on, you should check it out."
Always. Subtle.
sighed, easily moving around Alfred to fully survey the damage. Well, at least it wasn't -his- plates. "You've always been a terrible liar,
you know," he said, carefully picking up the bigger pieces and placing them in the trash can. "Fetch me a broom and a dustpan.'
shook his head, feeling as though he failed when the man stepped around him. He had no choice but to scramble for some of the pieces as
well. He was the host, dammit! "No, no, I got it, seriously! Go sit your ass-- FUCK OW." Alfred recoiled, having laid his palm directly
atop a particularly jagged hunk of glass. Ohgod. He saw this on that one medical show-- DID HE TAKE IT OUT OR LEAVE IT IN, OH GOD. The
blond stood and quickly turned his back on the Brit. He was the hero, why the fuck was the hero getting hurt, fuuuuck it burned. ;A;
jumped a bit, surprised by the sudden cry. "Idiot, that's why you should've just listened to me and went to go get the broom!" he said,
frowning as he moved to stand in front of Alfred. "Don't move, alright? And don't be a brute and just try to pull it out, either." That
said, the Englishman went to go fetch a first aid kit, and returned shortly. "Give me your hand."
whinned softly, putting on his brave face. Kind of. He held the wrist of his injured hand in his other, shifting his weight between one
foot and the other. "It's okay! It's okay. I don't think it's that deep. I think I can just... Just yank it out. Rip it off like a
band-aid. It ain't even bleeding that bad, see?" He showed him his palm without actually handing it over.
frowned even more. "Don't even think about it," he replied, gingerly taking Alfred's wrist. "I'm going to pull it out, alright?" And that
Arthur
was
just about all the warning he gave before he pulled the glass out as cleanly as he could manage, before digging through the kit to get some
alcohol swabs. He used those to clean up the blood, making sure to be as gentle as possible and blow on the wound a little.
jolted slightly, not at the removal of the glass (for that he just shuddered as he watched the shard slide from his palm), but at the
alchohol bath his wound was given almost immediately afterwards. "FUCK that hurts!" He complained, stomping slightly. It burned almost as
badly as listerine and had the same effects, the American's eyes watering slightly. ...Although, admittedly, his protests quieted slightly
as Arthur brought his hand closesr to his mouth, watching with a strange curiosity.
cleaned up the blood and the wound thoroughly, making sure it wouldn't get infected. "Stop complaining, you've gotten hurt worse before," he
said, applying some ointment before carefully bandaging the wound. Then, completely out of habit, he pressed a light kiss on the bandages,
before letting Alfred's hand go. "Now, get me the broom and dustpan."
held his breath as the pink lips made contact to the bandage, feeling the heat of his exhale on his skin, his cheeks hot with blood as a
light blush dusted across them. He quickly shook the feeling. Quickly. Very, very quickly and drew his hand back towards him. "Yeah.
Right... Uh. Broom, dustpan, got it." The American stepped over the pile of shattered glass as he made a beeline for the closet door,
feeling rather...derpy, for lack of a better term. Probably from his blood loss. Yeah. Blood loss.
cleaned up the trash, throwing everything way and packing up the kit neatly before placing it on the table. It was only when Alfred was gone
that he allowed himself a small smile, unwillingly admitting to himself that this was nice. It wasn't progress, but it wasn't regress,
either. And... well. Yes, that was really it. It truly wasn't as if he enjoyed taking care of Alfred, of course not. The git was too
troublesome and childish...!
After fumbling around in his closet for what seemed like hours, the blond finally reentered the kitchen with broom and dustpan in hand. He
immediately went to sweeping. Arthur didn't break it, so why the hell should he have to clean up. Also, he'd bandaged his palm up, and
Alfred just really needed to feel good about something right now. ...Not that sweeping was the most manly or testosterone-pumping task
ever, but fuck, it was a start. "I got it, I got it, seriously, man, go sit down."
tried to take the broom from him. "Give that here, I doubt you'll do a proper job of sweeping all this up. I don't want to hear you
complaining about hurting your foot or something along those lines later. I'll do it."
snatched it right back, holding it away from the male. "I can sweep just fine, thanks! This is my house and my mess, and I've got sneakers
on! What, is it gonna hop into my shoe and slice through a few tendons? No, it's fine, I got it, and that's final."
sighed, frowning. "...Fine," he said. "I'll reheat the food then, I suppose." He went to take the plates, not wanting to microwave them.
He'd just... recook them for a few seconds. They were just slightly overcooked as they were; surely, a few extra seconds wouldn't absolutely
burn them...
nodded, pretty much counting that as a victory. He'd show that grouchy old Brit how a real sweeper...swept. Yeah. Suck it. The blond
went about cleaning up his mess, making certain to get under the table and in the corners, anywhere some glass fragments could be hiding so
they wouldn't bombard him later like little clear feet terrorists. He bent at the waist to guide the debris into the dustpan before
straightening up, tossing the glass into the wastebasket, and standing back with his hands on his hips to admire his work.
, by then, was recooking the food. And what happens when you try to cook overcooked food? They burn. Which led to a cursing Brit and some
suspiciously darker food. But at the very least, it was all hot again by the time he set the plates back on the table. "...They're still
edible, alright? So don't complain."
turned to look at the delicious...smoldering, crispy something that the Brit had placed on the table and offered him a nervous laugh. Those
poor eggs. First they were burned, now this was just inhumane. But, the Yankee was in a generous mood, and by generous mood, he didn't
want Arthur to throw a hissy fit and storm off again, so he took a seat and picked up his silverware. "It looks...er...cooked."
huffed, throwing away the cooled tea to make himself a new cup. "It tastes a lot better than it looks," he insisted. "Really. Just try it."
Or at least, he hoped it tasted better than it looked...
offered him another shaky laugh before stabbing...something with his fork and placing it in his mouth. Tony would have probably been
surprised at how green a human could turn had he been in the room. ...Wow, it tasted like charcoal. "........." And that was all he had
to say as he forced it down.
glanced at Alfred, frowning before he turned back to his tea. "...You can go and get some McDonalds or whatever, if it's that bad."
shook his head frantically. "No! No, dude, it's just really....really....really, really well done! It's. I'm. ...Yeah, I'll order
pizza."
raised an eyebrow as he turned to throw the burnt food away. "Pizza for breakfast, Alfred? I think not. Choose something else."
snorted and sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why the hell not
...stupidenterkey. ))
snorted and sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why the hell not, they make breakfast pizzas and stuff. Like, with
eggs and bacon. It's like breakfast to go!"
looked a little disgusted at the mere thought of it. "...No. Get a proper breakfast, none of that... 'breakfast pizza' bollocks."
groaned and rubbed the back of his head, the thought of any breakfast at all suddenly losing it's appeal. He didn't want to drive to get
any. He didn't want to make something himself. And he didn't want to force down the burnt mass of potentially-lethal substance that was
England's cooking. Really, this was just sad. "...How 'bout ceral and milk? I've got Cocopuffs, Cheerios, and Cinamon Toast Crunch with
25% less sugar." It made him feel like he was eating healthy. =u=b
frowned, pouring himself a cup of tea. That wasn't... quite the proper breakfast he'd been thinking about, but he supposed it was better
than the atrocity they called 'breakfast pizza'. (Really, could Americans strive to get any unhealthier...?) "...Fine. But you'd better
finish all the milk afterwards, alright?"
scoffed at the half-order he'd been given and stood, rummaging through his cereal cabinet for the desired box-- yum, Cinamon Toast
Crunch. It had a taste you can see, you know? Engraved in swirls of pure, delicious sugar. "Of course I will, it's like, the best part
about eating this stuff! Like, sugary, cinamon-y milky amazingness. Seriously, I'll give you a taste, it'll blow your freakin' mind", he
described as he poured himself a bowl of the small squares and topped it off with a generous pouring of milk.
shook his head, carefully mixing his tea and taking a sip. It certainly wasn't anything like the tea he had back home, but it'd do. "No
thank you. I'm content with just tea for this morning, even if it's a rather bland American tea."