Meme de-anon. Written at 2 in the morning so I apologize for any missed typos. Received a lovely critique and tried my best to improve. (:
Alfred F. Jones could not look at one certain Arthur Kirkland without total adoration, though he was often matched by a fierce scowl from the other. It was a strange relationship—a new relationship—though Alfred had come to terms with the irascible Briton's behavior centuries ago. The two were complete opposites. Alfred tended to be overzealous, over-energetic, overconfident, while Arthur took the quieter side of things, preferring relaxing evenings with books or embroidery rather than screaming over football games. He tended to be more dry, more biting, yet more easily flustered.
Perhaps it was the clash in personality that made it work.
"Alfred? Do you mind?" Arthur struggled against the larger American's hold, a scowl overtaking his features when he couldn't shove free. "People are staring."
"And?" Alfred held all the more tightly, his arms completely enveloping the smaller nation as he hunched over to set his chin on Arthur's shoulder. "Nothing wrong with that. Right? People know we're together. Hungary made sure of that."
"I'm sure she did." Arthur rolled his eyes then stomped down on Alfred's foot, ducking from his flailing hold when the other yelped and sprang back. He ignored Alfred's inevitable pouting as he readjusted his tie. "We've a meeting to attend. We can…continue whatever that was afterwards in our own hotel room."
Alfred caught the faint blush dusting Arthur's cheeks before the other hastily looked away. Triumph gleamed in the American's eyes. "Sure, sure, Iggy! I'll hold you to that, alright?" He made as if to walk through the double-wide doors connecting the hotel lobby to one of the many conference rooms, but hesitated, realizing just how empty-handed he was. He looked back at Arthur, "Shoot—um, Iggy—I forgot my notes upstairs. Uh…" He stared blankly at his empty hands.
Arthur could only sigh. "Get on the lift then and retrieve them." He pointed back to the elevator that they'd just exited a few minutes ago. "You've about,"—he checked his watch—"15 minutes, so you'd best hurry."
"Elevator," Alfred retorted. He pushed the button ten times more than necessary.
"Lift."
"Elevato—" The doors slid open with a chime and Alfred boarded, giving a quick wave to his boyfriend before he found himself traveling upward. His room was on the tenth floor, and the elevator moved agonizingly slowly until it seemed like there was more time between each successive floor than the last. Finally he arrived, skidded to a halt by his door, sliced the key through the lock, ran in, and retrieved his notes in a flurry of other papers. He sprinted for the elevator again, intercepted by Francis who was already pressing the button.
"Oh, Amerique? Running late as well this fine morning?" Francis was dressed well enough, but he rubbed at his eyes. It had been apparent that he had been drinking the night before by the way he blinked at the dim lights overhead, shaking his head and muttering in French.
Alfred shrugged. "Yeah, well, what can ya do. But they know the party can't start without the hero!"
"Indeed."
The two shuffled onto the elevator where awkward silence ensued for the next four floors, neither looking at the other. It was only on the fifth floor that Francis allowed himself a sigh. "So you and Angleterre? I heard you got together over the weekend."
Alfred managed a nod but continued to study the paisley carpet design. "Mm? O-oh, yeah, it's great." He started shuffling his papers through his hands, trying to memorize any last key points on his report on the economy.
The elevator passed the fourth floor, but now it really did seem to be going more slowly, as it had been five minutes and they still hadn't passed the third floor. Alfred checked his watch, biting his lip when he realized he had only a few minutes. He considered punching the door button and running down the stairs at the first opportunity, but the elevator suddenly shook then jolted to a stop. It swayed in place a moment, creaking on its cables where it was suspended between floors. The lights flickered off.
"W-what? Seriously?" Alfred leapt up from where he'd fallen on his butt and pounded on the doors. The sound echoed up and down the shaft. He felt his way to the side of the tiny box, clinging to the railing and looking around in the thick darkness.
Francis remained seated. "Well this is…unfortunate."
"Tell me about it. Arthur hates it when I'm late to crap like this…"
"You're trying to be punctual just for that irritable island?" Francis forced a chuckle and pulled out his phone. The tiny screen did little to light the darkness, though it did illuminate the troubled expression on his face.
Alfred followed suit, pulling out his much larger iPhone. No service. "Huh? Well, yeah. No sense in pissing him off, you know?"
"I see."
"Just want him to be happy that he's going out with me. I mean, it's only been a few days, right, so I guess I can't make any conclusions yet but…" That look of uncertainty on his face, though mottled by shadow, took Francis by surprise.
"How do you mean? Conclusions?"
"I mean…uh…" Alfred looked up toward the ceiling where his phone left a patch of blue light. "I guess I want things to move more quickly than he does. He's such an old fogey sometimes I guess…likes things to be old fashioned. It's been a few days and we've been staying in the same hotel room—great view, Italy is great—but…I don't know. We did it once. Had sex, I mean. Damn, it was…great, but…" His brows scrunched. "Then we sort of just hung out the next two days and I'm kind of wondering if I wasn't…as good as he was expecting and he doesn't want to do it again…? Maybe he'd been with better…"
"Well he was with the best…" Francis muttered.
"Huh, what?"
"Nothing." Francis pocketed his phone with a sigh, and was once again overtaken by darkness. "Amerique, is this your first relationship?"
"Well, first real one, I guess? I've…had affairs. I mean, Cold War. Duh. But, nothing that actually meant anything til Arthur. I'm just wondering if I'm doing it wrong? What if he decides I'm not what he's even looking for? What if I'm not good enough?"
"Typical," Francis murmured. "But you are but a child, after all." His voice took on a condescending edge, which he promptly tried to dispel, reminding himself that Alfred had every right to Arthur. "Well, I suppose you should look at things from Arthur's point of view, then. For him to even be opening up to anyone…after all these years means that he sees something in you. He's always been a guarded individual, but the past few centuries he's taken an especially hard beating. I'd always been there to help pick up the pieces, but even I couldn't get very close…"
"You were with him, weren't you…? I thought you and Arthur were together a while back…"
Francis's sigh was as heavy as the darkness. "Off and on for the last thousand years. Things don't always work out the way we plan them."
"O-oh, right then." Alfred sighed and wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly shivering. The oncoming silence lasted for what seemed like forever.
"But don't you dare let him slip through your fingers by second guessing yourself. He's finally opening up to someone after years of shoving people away. He needs you." The words were tinged with bitterness and resignation. "Arthur…doesn't just let someone this close to him for petty reasons. Treasure him, Amerique. He's worth so much more than you can imagine. Worth more than you probably even deserve. If you manage to screw this up, you'll destroy him. Don't think it's not possible. It was you after all who nearly ripped him apart the first time. The fact that he's willing to forgive must mean something, even if I was the only one who gave a damn about him the following years. I had stop him from going completely crazy after that. I had to watch him slowly recede into his shell until he wouldn't even talk to me." He closed his eyes.
"H-hey, y-you helped in my war of independence! The blame doesn't fall completely on me!" America gritted his teeth, eyes flashing in what little light there was. "And you know what, I will take care of him, dammit. I won't let him down." His voice lowered. "Ever again."
"Good. That's all what I wanted to hear."
"Huh?" Alfred blinked then nodded. "Right." He straightened considerably, running a hand through his hair. That look of uncertainty was replaced with fresh resolve.
The two sat in absolute silence for the next ten minutes, Alfred playing tetris on his phone while Francis sat lost in thought. The lights eventually faded on and the elevator hummed back to life, making its descent down to the final floor.
"Holy crap, I'm going to be so late. Germany is going to glare me to death," Alfred said as he started gathering his papers from where they were scattered on the floor. "Not that his glare has much effect on me. I'm too heroic for that."
Francis only managed a half smile and beckoned him first off the elevator when it opened to the lobby. He lagged behind, still lost in memories of better days that he could never get back.
Alfred nodded to Francis and dashed off the elevator, coming to a screeching halt in front of Arthur.
"Thank heavens. I was just about to come up and get you, but the elevator was taking absolute ages. Meeting was postponed for another few hours. Apparently Italy doesn't keep the tightest schedule. I should have figured that'd be the case." The petite island nation squared his shoulders and huffed then jabbed Alfred in the chest with a pointer finger. "And what the hell took you so long? I sent you up thirty minutes ago."
Francis sighed, watching the two from the elevator where he was unseen. He felt a tinge of jealousy as Alfred laughed away his elevator problems and embraced the suddenly flustered island nation. He didn't wait to see how Arthur reacted, instead pushing the button to the tenth floor and beginning his ascent, leaving the two to their budding romance. After all, it was none of his business anymore what Arthur did, just so long as he was happy.