America x England – April Fools
Arthur groaned as what sounded like dozens of shrill, annoying birds buzzed all around him. What the hell-? Weren't the birds of the morning supposed to sing saccharinely sweet? What was this bloody racket? And then he remembered that they had an alarm. He continued to groan as he turned to his side, reaching out with his rather limp hand (he must have been lying on it in the night and lost the blood flow to it) so as to attempt to whack Alfred about a bit in the hopes that the American would get up and turn off the alarm, seeing as he was the one who slept beside it, and he was the one who was faster at getting bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Arthur ended up whacking a pillow and empty section of mattress however, and he slowly opened his droopy eyes to survey the lack of Alfred in the bed.
Begrudgingly, Arthur decided that it would have to be him who turned the alarm off after all, as it seemed Alfred was in the shower or something. He rolled to the other side of the bed, shivering at the chill that came from moving from his own side, and pressed the off button on the alarm. But the buzzing continued despite his efforts. Arthur grunted angrily at the alarm and at himself for supposedly having missed the button, or not pressed down on it hard enough, so he tried again, still with his attempt garnering no avail. He furrowed his brows and sat up then, much to his disdain, and did his best to see the alarm through sleepy eyes. He pressed the button again, pressing down hard, and then pressing it multiple times in a row as he still could not shut it up.
Arthur growled then, fed up of the alarm. To hell with it, he thought as he got up and stumbled towards the socket where he yanked the plug out of its electricity source. A puzzled expression clouded Arthur's face as the alarm continued to buzz. He went back to the alarm and, lo and behold, it was off, but where was that alarm coming from?
Arthur strip-searched the room, frenzied, pulling out drawers and their contents, throwing items both precious and useless around, growling and snarling and snapping at each and every inanimate object which wasn't the one he sought for. After turning the room into a pig sty, Arthur decided that he just had to intervene with Alfred's shower and find out what on earth was going on!
He stormed into the bathroom, a raging bull, and was shocked to find the source of the buzzing on the wash basket. He snarled at the shiny red device as it quivered and screamed, bellowing for him to wake up when he was already bloody awake thanks to its misplacement. Arthur went forwards and turned it off, but then he wondered how it could have ended up there in the first place. Before he fully had time to weigh his suspicions though, the shower curtains opened, and Arthur was soaked by the shower head in seconds.
"What the bloody-?" he yelped, spluttering and hacking up cold water as he cowered in the corner of the bathroom. Cowering, that is until he heard a familiar burst of laughter, and his head snapped up.
"Dude, your reaction was so funny!" Alfred howled with laughter, trying to turn off the shower head, but he was shaking too much with laughter.
"What…what was that for?" Arthur barked, standing up and pointing an accusing finger at Alfred, "That's a waste of water! And you've bloody ruined this nightshirt!"
"Artie," Alfred continued to laugh, albeit a little more supressed, "it's April Fool's Day! You totally got fooled!" he was still laughing even when he managed to turn off the shower head and step out of the tub so as to go and put a reassuring arm around the Englishman's waist. Arthur pushed away his advances though.
"Don't touch me!" he snarled, tears in his eyes, not because he was having a childish strop but more because he was so embarrassed and shocked by how sudden it all was, and it was far too early in the morning for any of this, and he was just so tired. Over recent years he had managed to be able to see April Fool's Day coming over the horizon of March, and quick as a flash he would prepare for this day by getting as far away from everybody as possible. Yes, even Alfred. Especially Alfred. This year though it seems that he must have had a lot more work than he realised to deal with as he simply hadn't seen this date looming towards him at all.
Alfred stopped laughing then, frowning in concern, his brow creasing, "Hey, don't be like that. It was just a little prank."
Arthur glowered at the American, "Just a little-?" He cut himself off before finishing his sentence and shook his head at himself for not realising the date, and at Alfred for being such a bloody child! "Never mind, I don't give a shit. I'm going to get dry. Meanwhile, you are going to clean up this bloody floor – it's like I'm standing in a bloody lake!"
He hurried out to go to the second bathroom, and then noticed the mess he had made in the bedroom. "Clean up the bedroom too!" he called before continuing to the bathroom with his mind set on a warm shower and a fluffy, dry towel. He heard cursing behind him as Alfred discovered the mess in the bedroom.
"Artie, what the fu-?"
Arthur slammed the door on the rest of the sentence, breathing out a vexed sigh as he pulled his soggy clothes off of his damp flesh.
After his warm shower, and after checking that Alfred had indeed cleaned the bathroom and bedroom (he had indeed – maybe not to the same quality standard as Arthur would have, but it was clean all the same) he headed downstairs for a spot of breakfast, bracing himself for a potentially awkward morning after his earlier outburst.
"Morning, Artie!" Alfred beamed without missing a beat as Arthur entered the kitchen, greeted by the scent of pancakes sizzling, "You feeling better now?"
Arthur, too stunned to voice his current status with words, merely nodded as he went to sit down at the table. He was immediately greeted by Alfred pulling out a chair for him, and though he was surprised he took the offer.
"T-thank you."
"Anything for you, sweetie!" Alfred cooed, returning to the pancakes before they burnt. Arthur pondered for a moment why Alfred was so chipper considering how that morning had gone, but then he just shrugged and smiled as he decided that this was just another one of Alfred's traits – forgive and forget – and he certainly wasn't complaining about it.
Alfred returned to his side after tending to the pancakes, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on the Briton's flushed cheek and slide a cup of piping hot tea under his lover's nose, "I'm sorry for this morning, Artie. I didn't think it would upset you so much."
Arthur smiled, kissing the American chastely on the lips to show that all was forgiven. "It's alright, Al. I suppose letting you have fun like that on this day couldn't hurt." Alfred shared a lopsided grin with the Briton before twirling back round to the pancakes.
Arthur exhaled and sank into the chair, glad that perhaps it wouldn't be such a messy morning after all. He took a sip of tea to add to the feeling of contentedness.
And then spat it out.
Arthur stuck his tongue out and rasped, trying to rid himself of the awful taste that held settled onto his taste buds. He stared into the tea cup with watery eyes, wondering what could be wrong as nothing seemed to be wrong. And then Alfred came up beside him again, and he should have known what was coming. He gawked at that sheepish grin as the American pulled two containers from behind his back, one labelled sugar and the other salt.
"Whoops," he winked, "I guess I must have accidentally mixed these two up."
Arthur had to resist the urge to throw the remainder of the boiling hot liquid on Alfred's face. He stood up, a dark expression clouding his face, as he headed into the living room, just to be alone for a bit. Alfred had to get back to the cooking of the breakfast anyway, so he'd surely let him be alone.
But Alfred stood sniggering in the doorway as Arthur sat down in his armchair, and a galumphing farting sound echoed beneath him. He scowled as he pulled a whoopee cushion from underneath him, turning his nasty expression to the still laughing American by the mahogany doorframe.
"Oh, grow up!" Arthur cried, hurling the cushion at Alfred's face, and unfortunately missing as the infuriating man ducked just in time.
"But Artie," Alfred grinned mischievously, "you said that letting me have fun like this on this day couldn't hurt, didn't you?"
Arthur immediately regretted his words. He immediately regretted waking up. He would have gone back to bed to just hide under the covers and sleep the rest of the day away were it not for his fear that there would be a prank waiting for him in there too. He had let Alfred attend to the bedroom and organise it as he pleased, so he wasn't entirely sure it was safe.
Then again, was anywhere safe?
As he continued to watch the chuckling American, rage bubbling in him, he came to the conclusion that no, nowhere was safe on that day.
Bugger.
Arthur spent the rest of the day cowering from water balloons and rotten eggs being chucked at his head and running from any sort of sudden, unexpected sound. Alfred really laughed at Arthur when he yelped and ran from the washing machine as it peeped to signal that it had finished its rinse cycle. He had also ducked when the phone rang a couple of times, and when Arthur picked up, anger evident in his voice, the prank callers (The Bad Touch Trio first, and then Peter with the assistance of his mother, Tino) had been too frightened to accomplish their prank calls, instead reverting to asking Arthur how his day was, to which Arthur would growl in reply, and the callers would hang up almost immediately for fear that they were actually talking with a lion.
By the end of the day, weary from running around, all goodness had left Arthur's heart, and he laughed menacingly as he tried to come up with a suitable prank to play on Alfred – a big revenge prank to get him back for bringing sorrow to the whole of Arthur's day.
And, after much planning (Arthur was good at battle strategies, and this was no different), the Briton initiated the plan that night.
Alfred, though he did have a lot of fun pranking Arthur (the Brit's reactions were simply too cute to resist), did fear for himself a little. Maybe not fearing for death or injury sustained by the Englishman, but more the fear that he would make him sleep on the couch! That is the moment that everyone in every relationship fears, and they all hope to God, whether said person be religious or not, that such a day never comes. Alfred truly feared that his time had come that day. Admittedly, he had done quite a lot to Arthur. Mercilessly. And, to be honest, he wouldn't have been surprised if, upon entering the bedroom, Arthur would have been there waiting at the door, a pillow and blanket at hand for him (because even when angry Arthur could be considered quite fair like that), and then his damned finger would point to the rest of the house beyond the room, and though the direction of the finger would not be specified he would immediately translate it as: couch. Alfred, in his own way, had prepared himself for this, reassuring himself that it was worth it, because he had had a lot of fun, right? So he was totally and utterly bewildered when, rather than waiting for him at the door with pillow and blanket and foreboding finger, Arthur was strewn across the bed, gazing up at him with a tint of seduction in those wide orbs, almost obscured under those dark and mysterious lashes.
"Hey, Arthur." Alfred greeted him nervously. Maybe Arthur wasn't waiting at the door to show him out now, but surely he would get up and show him out and Alfred would do the walk of shame…
"Hey, Al." Arthur purred, "I was wondering when you were going to get here."
"You were?" Alfred gulped, the sense of this is it springing to him.
"Of course!" Arthur chuckled, "Why wouldn't I be? Come over here."
Alfred hesitantly obeyed, shuffling slowly over to the Brit on the bed who, under closer inspection, seemed to be wearing the American's bomber jacket and not much else. Arthur patted the edge of the bed, and Alfred sat down, wondering if Arthur was being especially cruel by letting him get settled (and looking so god damn adorable in his jacket) before sending him away. Devious bastard!
Alfred flinched a little as he felt Arthur's hands rest on his shoulders, and though it was a relaxing notion Alfred stiffened as Arthur began massaging circles along his shoulder blades, leaning against his back, with his sweet, minty breath tickling the American's pink ears.
"You're awfully tight, aren't you?" he whispered, making Alfred shiver, "You should really loosen up." Alfred just whimpered, terribly confused by this whole scenario. Did Arthur suffer from short-term memory loss or something? He had been mistreated by Alfred all day, and now he was doing…this?
Then, in a swift movement, Arthur pushed Alfred up against the headboard and climbed over him, with Alfred still in a daze. As the Briton violated him with those green eyes, his willpower shrunk…but Florida grew. Arthur's hands continued to travel all over Alfred – brushing against his bare forearms and journeying underneath his shirt to spider along his torso, roving his thighs and diving into his jeans for a quick squeeze of his vital regions – whilst his breath tickled his neck as he sank his teeth into his skin for quick, affectionate nips. Alfred would have normally participated in this kind of thing, but Arthur may as well have been feeling up a rock for all the emotion Alfred was showing.
"You know, your muscles are a huge turn on for me, Alfred." Arthur licked the American's collarbone all the way up to his jaw where he made another nip, "I could just touch them like this forever." Alfred wasn't much listening to what Alfred was saying, but more to how he was saying it. His English accent was heavier than usual, and it was making Alfred really hot under the collar.
"Hey, Alfred," Arthur breathed into the younger man's ear, "please touch me. I want your hands all over me, love."
That was it for Alfred. The Briton running his hands all over him and calling him "love" in a thick English accent was too much to take, and so, he quit his rock act as he shakily lifted his hands up to start tracing along the dints in Arthur's frame. Texas steamed up as Arthur gasped and moaned and panted at every brush of Alfred's fingertips.
"Yes, just like that!" he groaned, "Touch me just like that, Alfred!" Alfred didn't need to be told twice. His fears of the dreaded couch dissolved and his hands became more confident in their actions. Arthur shuddered and collapsed upon the American as his hand went to the Brit's nether regions to grope him mercilessly. Alfred shuddered a little too as the Brit gasped against his skin, trying to lick and grope at it but failing. He instead bucked into Alfred's groping hand, wanting more contact. Alfred then decided to raise his knee to the Englishman's crotch so that he could thrust against him and gain that friction he so desperately sought for.
"Oh, Alfred!" Arthur cried, flinging his head back as he called the American's name, "You feel so good!"
Alfred hummed in contentment and nuzzled the Briton's throat, "So do you, Arthur."
Arthur moaned a little at that, weakening for a moment before continuing his thrusting and bucking at a faster pace, "God, Alfred, I love you so much!"
Alfred took pause at that. Arthur barely ever confessed his love for the American. Granted, he never needed to – Alfred could tell how Arthur felt by the little glances his way every now and again and the smiles he blessed him with – but it was more the matter of it being voiced in words rather than actions that got to Alfred. He grabbed Arthur's chin and pulled him down to look into his lustful eyes.
"Say that again." he begged coolly, although he was feeling so hot at the time.
"I love you, Alfred."
Alfred grinned as he pressed the Briton's lips to his own, earning a moan from the smaller man as those godforsaken nimble hands went to the American's face, cupping his cheeks and running through the golden locks of hair upon his head. Alfred's hands dove underneath his bomber jacket which the Englishman was wearing and traced the skin of his back, making Arthur sigh as he kissed Alfred.
Their tongues danced in the battle for dominance, and it was such a tough battle that they had to pull away for air, a string of saliva still connecting their bruised lips. Alfred gasped for air but found none in the heat of the atmosphere, and he watched as Arthur also struggled to breath but still managed to find enough oxygen to talk.
"Alfred…" he moaned, "I need to tell you something…"
"Anything, baby." Alfred smiled as he licked at Arthur's swollen red lips, although he couldn't imagine what Arthur would need to say since he had already confessed his love.
Arthur tilted Alfred's chin up so that they were gazing straight into each other's eyes – both pairs of eyes were different, yet both were filled with the same lust and desire and a sprinkle of love – and Alfred just wanted to flip the Briton over and take him right then because he was practically the definition of temptation in his current state, but he managed to hold back as Arthur leant forward and opened his perfectly plush pink lips to whisper into the American's ear.
"April Fools, Alfred."
Alfred stopped, his expression just becoming a puzzle in his confusion. "…What?"
Arthur leant back then, quivering as he tried to hold in a fit of giggles, "APRIL FOOLS! Ha! I can't believe you fell for all that! I'd never act in such a way genuinely! Ha, get a mirror, Alfred, because you should see your face!"
Alfred didn't need a mirror. He could just feel his face twisting into a mix of embarrassment and confusion and anger and sorrow. In short: the kicked puppy look. And then, much like a kicked puppy would, he slithered away to the edge of the bed to mope. He now wished he had been shown to the couch after all.
Arthur crawled after the treating American, giggling all the way, "Revenge is sweet, huh? That'll teach you to prank the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern-…Alfred, are you alright?"
Alfred wasn't alright. He felt violated. He pulled his knees up to his chest and sniffed as tears welled to his eyes and a rare frown formed on his face. "You…Arthur, you…YOU TROLL FACE!" he cried as he buried his head in his knees and sobbed, his shoulders shaking with the force of the desperate sobs. Arthur stopped his laughing now, joining Alfred in frowning.
"Hey, now, poppet. Don't be upset. It was just a little joke." He reached out to place a comforting hand on the disgruntled American, but ended up having it shrugged away. "I'm sorry, alright? You've been treating me like this all day too."
Alfred looked up and Arthur became stock-still in fear as Alfred glared at him. Alfred never glared at him. "Arthur, you're so twisted. You should have been a woman, because you'd be a perfect bitch!"
Arthur got over his fear and pouted at Alfred, "Excuse me, but you've been acting like such an arse all day! You've pranked me countless times, and this has been my only time fighting back against it!"
Alfred got up from his immature position then and crossed the room to the en-suite. Upon reaching the door he looked back at Arthur to growl and exclaim, with hurt and rage burning in his eyes, "Arthur! You do not! Joke! About! LOVE!" And with that he slammed the door, and Arthur scoffed as he heard the lock click.
"Alfred, stop being such a fucking child!"
Arthur heard incomprehensible mumbling from the other side of the door, but he just scoffed and headed out of the room, downstairs, to drink some tea, or any other beverage that would calm him as equally. He was slightly chilly what with wearing nothing but Alfred's bomber jacket still, and now the scent of the American lingering upon it was bringing him grief instead of the usual pleasure, but he was too angry to change garments. Honestly, hadn't Alfred heard of "treat others as you would like to be treated"? Surely he realised that if he continuously pranked Arthur then the Englishman would soon snap and fight back? Didn't he know how brutal the English could be? His anger continued to boil like the teapot on the stove.
Arthur exhaled as he took a sip of sugary tea; not salty, thank you very much. He was starting to wonder if maybe Alfred was right. It had upset him being pranked all day, but what Arthur had done wasn't really much of a revenge prank, now that he thought about it, but more fit the profile of something that would make Alfred doubt his feelings. Arthur had said that he was joking about being in love with Alfred, and though he knew that that was just his dry sense of humour, Americans had different humour to the British. Even so, he had expected for Alfred to say "Arthur, you sly dog" and laugh about it, and Arthur would titter and say "You know me" and they'd collapse onto the bed in a fit of laughter because of course that would have obviously been a joke because it needn't be said that Arthur loved Alfred so much – irrevocably so…
But it hadn't gone to plan.
Arthur looked up as he heard some stomping around going on upstairs. It sounded like Alfred had finally finishing his sulking session. Arthur kept his eyes trained on the stairs beyond the kitchen doorframe as he heard the familiar thudding of footsteps descending them. His heart spluttered a little, nervous and embarrassed, as Alfred's feet came into view, followed by his legs and torso, and lastly his head sporting a miserable face.
Alfred entered the kitchen, tousling his already messy hair, but stopped as he saw Arthur sitting prettily at the kitchen table. For a moment it seemed like he wanted to say something, like "Put some clothes on, it's not fair for you to be dressed like that in my presence considering the circumstances" or "How can you sit there drinking tea so calmly at a time like this". But he didn't. He just grunted, although it surely wasn't a grunt in greeting but more like a grunt so as to say I know you're there, but I'm not going to acknowledge you, and then he briskly strode through the open back door into the garden, even though it was chilly and he was wearing a t-shirt, and the stars were starting to come out to play with the moon.
Arthur sighed. He hated having to push his pride to the side like this, but, as it was going, it seemed like Alfred wasn't going to apologise for pranking him all day or acting like a stroppy child, so Arthur had to be the mature one. He spent a few minutes draining the remaining droplets from his tea and composing himself as he tried to think of suitable apologies, but to no avail. Nothing seemed genuine enough when he was mapping out the apology in his head, so he just decided to go with the natural flow. He finished his tea, finally and almost regrettably, so he got up from the chair and went to fetch a blanket from the sofa before heading outside to join the moping American.
Alfred was a sad site, really – hunched over on a swing which Arthur had had installed into his garden when Alfred was younger, staring up at the stars as they twinkled in the sky and wishing that he could have a grin resembling the crescent moon's shape once again. Arthur sighed out of pity for the boy as he hesitantly proceeded over the grass on bare feet, quiet as a mouse. Maybe too quiet, for Alfred flinched when he felt a blanket being draped over his shoulders, and he spun round like a frightened animal to stare, wide-eyed, at Arthur, who was now the definition of apologetic, with his thick eyebrows creased and his mouth set into a thin line.
Alfred didn't try to shrug off the blanket, because he was cold, but he chose not to thank Arthur and instead turned forwards again, this time to stare at his shadow in the grass. His shadow was joined by Arthur sitting in the swing beside him, beginning to swing lightly back and forth. It was silent for a moment, with only the squeaking of the swing chains interrupting the deep emptiness where a conversation should have been, but then Arthur spoke.
"I'm sorry, Alfred." the chains continued to squeak loudly, but Arthur hoped that Alfred would hear his voice above it all, "I seem to have hurt your feelings, and I feel terrible…I don't expect you to forgive me, but…"
"That wasn't cool, man." Alfred frowned, absently rubbing at the cool metal of the linked chains of the swing, "You really shouldn't joke about stuff like that."
Arthur hung his head, "Yes, but…you do realise I didn't mean it, right? I do love you, so…"
"Yeah, you told me that before." Alfred snarled, "And I got really excited, because you never tell me you love me. And then you took it back from me, just like that. I'm torn, Arthur."
"Well, I…" Arthur exhaled, exasperated, "…I didn't think the confirmation of my feelings was all that precious to you."
"Well it is!" Alfred snapped, "But I'm sure someone heartless like you wouldn't understand."
Arthur stopped swinging then, because it just didn't seem appropriate to be doing such a thing anymore. He lifted his hung head and looked up at Alfred, and his heart clenched in his chest as he saw so many emotions crossing that familiar face – some he could name and some he couldn't – and it was then that he realised that he would really have to throw in the towel and bleed his clenched heart out to the poor guy.
"Alfred," he began, "I'm sorry if I seem heartless at times. What with my days of piracy…and the revolutionary war…I really had to close my heart off at those times, for my own sake, selfish as it was. Since then I've struggled to open my heart up to anyone, because I'm a true coward. But when you came back to me my defences began to shatter, and the rock which had formed around my heart began to crumble, leaving it open to painful things, but also to you. I began to love again, and I once again came to learn that I had to take the pain so as to get the warm feelings. You taught me that – you who makes my heart jump in my chest until it threatens to burst; you who sends electricity shooting through my system to ignite my soul; you who makes me spout this fucking corny shit that reeks of cheese." he chuckled lightly at that last one before proceeding.
"I know that I don't say this sort of stuff enough for you to realise it, but it's just so hard. It might be hard to see how the highly literate Arthur Kirkland could struggle to form a sentence concerning my emotions, but I truly do. There are no words suitable enough in the dictionary to explain how I feel for you, and this is a sad truth which haunts me every day spent with you. I want to be able to describe how your laughs and smiles and hands in mine make me feel, but I just can't – would if I could though, dear Alfred. Describing you as a treasure to me wouldn't quite suit, for treasure is so inanimate, and you are just so lively, and you manage to bring out the long lost liveliness in me. And…I don't know. I really hope that I can use words to express how much you mean to me one day though. But to do that I need you by my side, so…although I'm terrible to you a lot of the time and I'll never in a million years deserve to preserve your beauty for my own, I still hope that you'd at least let me stay by your side…please…"
Arthur let out a sigh of relief, for he had finally said it. Well, in the short version anyway. The long version would have taken days to spew, for sure, and Alfred would have gotten bored and said "TL;DL" (whatever that meant, Arthur wasn't sure) long before Arthur had finished.
He was uncomfortable as his speech was greeted by nothing but the rhythmic squeaking and a cricket or two for a while, so he looked up at the American hesitantly, and their gazes met, Arthur's being more than a little nervous and Alfred's being baffled.
"Did you really mean all that, or are you going to pull the same stunt as earlier and take that away from me too?"
Arthur shook his head briskly, "No, I'm done with that. I agree with you – what I did was entirely uncalled for; less of a prank and more of a cruel stunt."
Alfred smiled then, and Arthur smiled in return, relieved that things were finally looking up as it seemed like his apology had worked.
"I'm sorry too, Arthur. I guess I pranked you a little too much today, but I just got excited about it because this day only happens once a year. But don't you dare think that you don't deserve me. If anything, I don't deserve you, you sexy thing!"
Arthur chortled, content with Alfred's apology, but then he gasped as Alfred suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the chain of Arthur's swing, pulling it towards him so that Arthur was brought closer.
"Apology kiss?" Alfred laughed, offering his cheek to the startled Englishman. Arthur blushed and complied, leaning forwards to plant numerous kisses on the offered cheek.
"I'm so sorry, Alfred, I'll never do something like that again. I do love you – honestly – I'm not at all joking."
"Yeah, yeah. I get it." Alfred chuckled, letting go of Arthur's chain so that he could start swinging as an outlet for his joy. Arthur joined him in swinging, tittering as he did, because Alfred had a blanket draped over him much like a grandmother, and Arthur was naked apart from the jacket, and both of them were swinging in the garden like children at goodness knows what late hour. Alfred laughed too, and Arthur didn't care whether it was at the same thing as him because all that mattered was that he was laughing, and Arthur had missed that. It had only been about half an hour or so since he had last heard it, but even that was too long.
And then Alfred coughed and slowed his swinging pace, and Arthur slowed too, confused, as Alfred continued to say, "This may be a little awkward, but…it's just that…well…"
"What is it?" Arthur grew concerned now, "Don't be embarrassed. You can ask me anything as well as ask anything of me."
Alfred chortled and scratched at his cheek, "Well that's good, because…uh…we kind of have some unfinished business to attend to."
"Oh?" Arthur asked, "What could that be?" He had made sure that both he and Alfred had finished up on their work as nations so that they could have their weekend free to be together, so what business could there be?
Alfred gestured to his crotch, and Arthur looked down and thought, Is that an elephant in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?
"You kind of left it like this from before, and…uh, you're not helping it go down, you know, because of what you're wearing, and your accent, and the kisses to my cheek, so…if you get my drift."
Arthur laughed and jumped up from the swing, not minding the idea of a session of intimacy in the least. He'd be lying if he said that the stunt from before was all an act – Alfred hadn't been the only one excited by it.
Alfred got up too, reaching out to take the Englishman's hand, but then stopping and looking down at Arthur's bare, dirty feet. "Yo, ever heard of shoes?"
"Yes, well…" Arthur coughed, "…I was too out of sorts before to comprehend shoes, or slippers at least…footwear in general, so…"
Alfred bellowed with laughter, "You're such a scatterbrain sometimes, Arthur, honestly! Come here!" Alfred pulled the Englishman close to him before lifting him up into his arms, bridal style.
"You do realise I can walk, don't you?" Arthur pouted, his cheeks flushing as the scent of the American hit him and he began to feel lust once again.
"Yeah, but doesn't mean you should. Just enjoy the ride, okay? Speaking of, do you want to ride or doggy-style or what?"
Arthur laughed and light-heartedly slapped at Alfred's laughing face, "You vulgar git!"
Of course, Arthur was joking when he said that.
Author's Notes: Wow, this is so bloody long. Sorry if any of you get like Alfred and are like "TL;DR". I wouldn't blame you. Anyway, I hope you all have an April Fool's Day as splendid as Alfred's (minus the domestic with Arthur). Also, although I wrote this I'd like you all to thank my dear friend pie1313 for this ever being produced. I kept running to her like "What pranks should Alfred do?" and "What should Arthur say?" And "What should happen here?" and "What should be said there?" Without her this would just be a mess. A messy mess. I LOVE YOU, PIE! Finally, I would like to apologise to you all for the smut scene. I'm still not very good at writing such things, but I tried my best, so...so...please have patience with my writing and forgive me, everyone. *Bows*
Critique is welcomed, comments are appreciated!
Thank you and enjoy!
Disclaimer: Alfred and Arthur belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
AnorexicWalrus~