Chapter 1: Seriously
A/N: I thought it was time for something new.
I don't know how well this fic will be received, but I'll update regularly if someone says they like it. I don't know where I'll go with this fic. It'll almost be like a series of connected one-shots that follow one big plot.
Sorry if that doesn't make sense. Also, if you spot any mistakes (and it's inevitable you will) just tell me about them in a review, and I'll do my best to fix it.
Now, read on and enjoy your un-betaed shite.
Cerulean blue.
Some hazy part of Arthur's mind wondered if Alfred knew how beautiful his eyes were, and another, more clear part whispered back dryly that the egotistical dick probably did.
And it was so strange,lying there on the riverbank in the sunshine with the American, his bare feet curling in the grass. Arthur felt his face heating up for the billionth time when the American turned on his side and gazed at Arthur's face, eyes moving leisurely over the boyishly handsome features.
"You...You really don't look twenty-three" Alfred stated slowly, and then groaned when Arthur kicked his shin. Hard.
"Well, I AM." Arthur huffed rolling over and turning his back on the American. Alfred gave a little whine, and began tracing a long finger up and down Arthur's spine, until the smaller man wriggled and whispered "Stop that!"
Alfred didn't take any notice, and simply shifted, so that his mouth was directly above the Brit's ear, and whispered "You know, there's only four years difference between us"
Arthur stiffened slightly, and if Alfred felt it, he didn't say anything.
"Yeah, so?" Arthur could've slapped himself when his voice shook.
Alfred twisted round and flopped down on his back, leaning his head back on his arms and closing his eyes in the warm, late afternoon sunshine .
"Just saying" he murmured.
Arthur pulled himself up to look at the American, his eyes roaming over the American's chest and arms and down to-
"If you want to check me out, just say. I'll pose for you." Alfred deadpanned, his eyes closed.
Arthur felt himself blush all over. For a moment resembled one of Antonio's tomatoes, then he paled and began stuttering "N-no. Who said I was c-checking you out anyway? Idiot. A-and don't pose. You'll look like a fool!"
Alfred opened his eyes and sat up, almost bumping noses with the Brit, who recoiled quickly, and stared in something akin to horror as the American quickly assumed the pose of a wannabe glamor model, hand on one jutting hip, pink lips pouted.
"Check it" The Americans voice was oddly muffled from trying to speak with unmoving pouting lips.
Arthur felt sick with himself- he really shouldn't find Alfred's bizarre attitude attractive, but he did. Hell, he shouldn't even find another manattractive.
Francis was right; perhaps he WAS gay. But that DID NOT mean he was going into any of those ridiculous clubs again! It was bad enough the first time! Arthur simply oozed uke-ness, and that WAS NOT a good thing when one was in a cramped, hot room full of lecherous men. Arthur had had enough of being felt up by transvestites and such. No, he needed a proper relationship. With a kind mature male who-
Arthur felt the strange need to cry and laugh at the same time when his thoughts somehow drifted to silly Alfredbeing mature. It wasn't right for someone like the American to be mature.
Arthur would never have a normal relationship with the American, would he? They weren't even in a relationship, and they had only kissed once when both drunk out of their minds- hell, they wouldn't have even known about that kiss if Francis hadn't showed them a blurry Polaroid of the impromptu makeout session.
Yes, there was no officialrelationship, but there was something there-Mutual attraction? Lust? or maybe-
"Iggy?"
Arthur looked up through his lashes into those big blue eyes that were suddenly very close.
"Yes?" He breathed back, delighted when Alfred shivered.
They stayed like that for a moment, their noses almost touching. Arthur wondered if it was some sort of challenge- who could take it the longest? He felt something akin to sick satisfaction when Alfred's face slowly heated up, and his eyes swiveled down to Arthur's lips and-
Suddenly Alfred was leaning back on his heels as he knelt, his gaze blank and directed to some point over Arthur's shoulder. Arthur thought it was quite funny how flushed his face was and how wide his eyes were in comparison to the firm, serious set of his mouth.
"Hey, Arthur?" Alfred's eyes made their way back to the Brit's face. They seemed darker than usual. Or maybe it was just the lighting. The sun was probably setting already. Arthur always forgot the time when he was with Alfred...
"Yes, Alfred?" Arthur's tone was dry and wary, completely expecting the American to ask to borrow money or something of the sort. Alfred always seemed to think of bizarre favors to ask ("Hey, Arthur! Can I borrow...lets see...some gasoline, a lighter and a trampoline? Thanks!") and the strangest place and time to ask them. His sporadic childishness somewhat reminded the Brit of Feliciano, only less extreme. Arthur routinely made it a point to pray to every god in the sky that another Felicano wasn't born for preferably the next millennium or so. One every thousand years was enough thank-you-very-
"How would you react if I told you I wanted to jump your bones?"
It was official. Someone like Alfred just wasn'tmeant to be serious.
