My Alfred, My Hero
Summary: Alfred has to save the day. If I reveal any more, then you won't be guessing the plot as you read it. Enjoy!
Characters: Natalia (Belarus), Ivan (Russia), Alfred (America), Arthur (England), Raivis (Latvia), Eduard (Estonia), Toris (Lithuania), Francis (France), Ludwig (Germany), Feliciano (Italy), Lovino (South Italy), Antonio (Spain), Yekaterina (Ukraine), Matthew (Canada), Yao (China), Kiku (Japan), Elizaveta (Hungary), Roderich (Austria), Gilbert (Prussia).
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Wish I did, though…then again, the series wouldn't be about Italy anymore, it'd be all about USxUK, so it might be good that I don't own Hetalia, hehehe.
Warnings: Yaoi. Fluff (I effing love fluff). Angst. Violence. Language (yes, England has a very foul mouth). Creepiness (on the part of Belarus…what the devil is wrong with her, anyways?). USxUK (god I hate FrUk), GerIta, Franada, one-sided Bela-Russia, JapanxChina, SpainxSouthItaly, AustriaxHungary. Note: Human names will be used. Don't like, don't read.
Ivan shivered as he heard his younger sister's insane ranting outside his door, accompanied by the unearthly scream of her nails against the metal door he had installed to keep her out. 'What is wrong with me?' he thought. 'I am supposed to be the nation that strikes fear into the hearts of others, not the one affected by fear.' He shivered again as the mantra that escaped from her lips reached his ears: "Marry me marry me marry me marry me…" He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the blessed silence that would mean she gave it up…for now.
He could hardly believe it when her voice and scratching finally stopped. He exhaled, not knowing that he had been holding his breath. Allowing some of the built-up tension to release from his shoulders, he opened his eyes.
And there were her violet eyes, so like his own, barely inches from his face. He gave a small yelp and scrambled backwards, falling out of his office chair. "You are mine," Natalia intoned, her insane smile coming closer and closer as Ivan desperately tried to back away…
"Do you like it, mon amour?" the Frenchman asked gently as his love blushed a light shade of pink.
"Y-yes, Francis, I like it very much," Matthew stuttered quietly, smiling as he sniffed the delicate pink rose he had been given. It was the first rose that had bloomed in the Frenchman's garden, and he had invited Matthew over especially to enjoy the first flowers of spring with him. Francis wrapped an arm around Matthew's waist and led him to other parts of the garden, ending by a white bench surrounded by an arbor sporting the first leaves of spring. He sat on the bench and rested his arm across the back, allowing Matthew to lean into his embrace, still holding the rose. Matthew laid his head on his love's shoulder, who gently kissed his hair in response.
Francis absolutely loved these moments that he could have with Matthew. The younger nation was unlike any of the other partners he had had throughout his life, and he enjoyed the refreshing qualities Matthew brought into their relationship. Matthew's quiet personality perfectly counterbalanced the Frenchman's assertiveness, and opened new doors for each other to experience the opposite qualities around each other. His passiveness provided the Frenchman with a sense of calm that he rarely found these days except when drowning himself in wine. Matthew's peaceful nature was like a fantastic ocean in which Francis could finally find his own peace and relaxation. Plus, Matthew was one of the few nations who voluntarily conversed with him in his own native French language.
"I am so lucky to have you," Francis whispered against the silky blonde hair, his breath causing Matthew's curl to wave in its wake. Matthew lifted his beautiful violet eyes up to the Frenchman's gaze, and Francis leaned in to kiss him.
Suddenly Francis groaned and doubled over, his hands clutching his abdomen. "Francis?" Matthew asked worriedly. Francis did not answer but could only fall off of the bench, his body no longer supporting his weight. "Francis?" Matthew's cry was louder this time and he fell to the ground next to his love, fear striking his heart as he actually was able to gauge how fast the color was leaving Francis' face. "Francis, what's wrong?" Matthew cried, clutching his love's face. France gave an agonized groan and vomited blood, the bright red trail trickling from the corner of his mouth to spill on the gravel below.
"FRANCIS!" Matthew screamed.
"Alfred, for the last time, I am not in any trouble and I do not need you to be my hero!" Arthur yelled at the younger nation. As usual, though, his words went in one of Alfred's ears and right out the other. 'That's because there's nothing between those ears to keep the words in, dammit!' the Brit thought furiously as he was slung over Alfred's shoulder.
"Ah, old man, you do need me to be the hero here! You're getting to be so old that you can't even walk on a sprained ankle!" Alfred's infuriatingly cheerful demeanor was almost tangible as he carried the protesting Englishman to the nearest first-aid station. He and Arthur had been at an amusement park when Arthur slipped on a slick step going up the water slide, twisting his ankle enough to make him cry out. Of course, then Alfred went all heroic on him and the result was that he was now being dragged against his will to get some ice for his ankle; he and Alfred were even still in their swim trunks.
A few minutes later, Arthur was still fuming and Alfred was merely humming as he brought back their bags so that they could change back into dry clothes. Sitting down on the low brick wall next to Arthur, Alfred opened up his bag to grab a towel and dry his still-dripping blonde hair. Arthur held the bag of ice to his swollen ankle, trying not to think about how absolutely hot Alfred looked without a shirt on, the water from the rides still clinging to his fit and muscular torso.
Alfred's phone vibrated from his backpack and he pulled it out, checking the caller ID. "Matthew Williams? Who's that?" he wondered aloud.
Arthur rubbed his slightly sunburnt forehead with his free hand in frustration. "Matthew. Your brother. Canada."
"Oh, Mattie!" Alfred cheerfully brushed off his confusion and answered the call. "'Sup, dude? Haven't heard from you in a while! Hey, guess where Arthur and I are-"
"Alfred, give the boy a chance to speak!" Arthur scolded. Alfred quickly shut up and immediately became aware that he could hear sniffling through the speakerphone.
"Mattie? What's wrong?" Alfred asked worriedly.
"I...it…it's F-f-francis," Matthew was finally able to get out between sobs. He was unable to say anything else.
"Don't worry, Mattie, I'm coming right over, are you actually in France right now?" Alfred's authoritative demeanor was comforting to Matthew, who was able to somehow reply "yes." "Me'n Arthur'll be over as soon as we can. See ya, dude!" Alfred winked into thin air as he ended the conversation.
"Sounds like we're going to France, then?" Arthur grumbled, secretly relieved, though, to get out of the unforgiving sun which had already begun to burn his pale skin.
"Yeah, Mattie wasn't able to say much; he sounds like a wreck," Alfred frowned. Then he grinned mischievously and picked Arthur up bridal style to carry him out of the park, the Englishman protesting loudly the whole way.
"Jeezum, Iggy, you should've seen all those mothers back at the park; they had to cover their kids' ears to protect them from your foul mouth!" Alfred ribbed Arthur as they got off of the plane in Paris. Arthur scowled at Alfred, though the gesture was lost on the younger nation as he got a text. The American whipped out his phone to view the text, his smile slipping off of his face as he read it.
"What is it?" Arthur wandered around to Alfred's side to try and peer at the text over the American's arm. Shakily Alfred angled the phone so that Arthur could see it better.
Hey Al, sorry I was having trouble talking earlier. It's just Francis and I were enjoying an afternoon together when all of a sudden he got really sick…as in coughing up blood. We're at the hospital; I really need you right now. – Matt
Arthur looked up at Alfred, who was staring off into the distance. Arthur shook his head and placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder. Alfred snapped out of it and began walking towards the luggage carousel. Arthur pulled out his own phone and called for a cab before following in the same direction. He looked out the window at the nighttime Parisian skyline, actually worried for the annoying Frenchman.
Well, people, this is the first chapter! Hope you enjoy it, and keep up with me for further updates! Review and tell me your ideas on the plot!
