"I do hope you don't mind that I'm doing this now, and I'm almost certain this seems kinda random, Art." The blonde man had laughed, though that didn't really help his nervousness.
His head was spinning still. It was ridiculous what precisely had just happened. Arthur Kirkland had no honest idea of what he had to say for himself after that. He was still trying to pin the pieces of it all together.
"I'm like, 100% certain you'll find this a stupid thing to say, so uh, yeah. Don't mind that bit, but I would really just feel better with telling you." And his hand had awkwardly scratched the back of his neck; his blue eyes avoiding Arthur for some unknown reason- why were they avoiding his gaze, if he was just going to tell him something?
Arthur understood that Alfred might feel better after dumping that load of information on him, but Arthur was left feeling hurt and confused.
"Spit it out then, will you?" Arthur had asked, trying to maintain his façade of slight concern but mostly boredom. "I don't have until the next century to hear you blithering away."
"Well, I uh." Alfred had clearly taken a blow there, lost some of that already shaky confidence.
And no wonder, considering the words he was going to say to an Arthur Kirkland who really did appear all kinds of disinterested.
"Come on, boy." Arthur had said callously. "I really don't have all day."
Alfred had gulped, before he spoke up. "Well, Arthur. I know this is probably a stupid random thing to tell you, but I uh, well, I l-like you. In the romantic sense!" He was quick to explain his feelings, and Arthur's green eyes had jolted up to try and meet Alfred's gaze. The boy hadn't met it though. "And I, well, I just wanted you to know that I did, and it's not even liking so much, as being head over fucking heels in love for you." He had laughed, still nervous, a twinge of upset creeping in. "And I, well, I wanted you to know that- I mean, I've…. and it's hardly like I've never... but it…it's…" He paused, and breathed out. "Sorry, I'm fumbling with my words too much, aren't I?" He laughed, something a bit bitter there, something raw.
That was honestly the strangest thing about it- Alfred's words had clearly been meant for explanations, for long sentences, but the young man before him had looked utterly frazzled. But the strangest thing of all had come last.
"But!" Alfred's blue eyes finally met Arthur's green ones. "I do, in fact, like you- romantically speaking. And! This will be the last time I'll say it!" He was firm here. "So, just so this is on record with us- this is the last time I'm going to say that." And the man had breathed a bit, in short, almost panicked breaths, Arthur still holding his own in shock, before he had stood suddenly, and thrown a wad of cash down on the table where they had been drinking coffee with each other.
And like that, he had left, practically bolting, and leaving Arthur here, utterly confused at the coffee shop's table, looking into his now cold cup of tea.
What had the man meant? The last time he was going to say it? That clearly implied other times he had said it to him, or to someone else.
Plus, why was that…. weird? It wasn't as though Arthur had not spent a good part of the previous century getting horribly drunk over his feelings about the American, mixed as they were. And certainly, Arthur had done his best to show interest in him? So why only the confession of love now, and why would he then say it would be the last one he ever got?
Arthur wanted to hear the American nation say those words to him over and over again, but apparently he wasn't ever going to again?
The British nation clearly had some digging to do.
XXXXX
He was in Paris that night, much to his displeasure. "Mon Ami!" Francis had said in his own human language, before switching to the nation's tongue. "What brings you to Paris on this night!" He asked, smiling kindly as they sat at a table in a restaurant that Francis had reserved for them.
"I'm cutting to the chase so that I may cut this short." Arthur said, growling a bit. "I don't like you much, Frog, but I know that you and Alfred are close. Please, do inform me why the hell-." He was cut off by a waving hand.
"Non, there is nothing to worry about with Alfred, he's a stupid boy, right?" He laughed a bit, making Arthur's ears practically steam- he hating being cut off. "He is a child among us nations, correct?"
Something about his body language told Arthur something was up here. He didn't seem precisely comfortable, although his mouth easily lied for him.
"Don't bloody speak over me, twat." He grumbled. "You clearly know something about what in the blazes was up with him today- and I want to know why he confessed to me."
Francis faltered. "He…confessed?" He asked, licking his lips a bit.
"Yes." Arthur said, his brows furrowed in irritation, "And then he ran off before I could even process that information."
Francis raised an eyebrow, no longer nervous as much as he was unsettled. "What do you mean, process? Arthur, it's not the first time he's tried, mon ami." He looked Arthur dead in the eyes. "You've just always told him to fuck off."
Arthur stared at him, before he rubbed his temples. "France. Really, bugger off. Alfred? America? Interested in me? In love with me?" He felt ill when he said the word. "When on this good earth did that happen?"
"Does this mean you are considering it?" Francis' eyes bulged a bit. "Arthur, I know that you have the emotional capacity of a rock, but never in my entire time knowing you two had I seen you romantically interested in the lovesick boy." He shook his head. "Scratch that- I haven't seen you interested in him since he broke free of you!"
Arthur blushed a bit, his face set in a hard scowl. "Oh, fuck off, Francis." He said, bitter. "I just didn't waste my time on a lost cause."
France rubbed his temples a bit, groaning. "You, Arthur, England, are so-so… stupid, it baffles me." He said, before uttering a few French curses. "Arthur, I was the one who told him to cut his losses, you dumbass. He only spent the 20th century trying to win you over, and you always seemed so unreceptive, and so I simply said- give up. There are plenty of other, less bitter fish in the sea."
England gaped at him. "You simply must be pulling my leg, France. There could never be a world where Alfred F. Jones loves me."
"And no wonder!" Francis snapped. "It's not as though you made any effort to reciprocate his advances!"
"I still have no ungodly idea what you're referring to!" England snapped at him, crossing his arms over his chest.
"He's only asked you out to dinner at every single world meeting since the formation of the UN Security Council." Francis pointed out. "He's just been the only one of us who gladly volunteers to walk your drunk ass back to your hotel room after you get pissed at a bar after you very plainly reject him. He's the only one who makes an honest attempt at eating your horrible cooking, enough to know that you're not horrible at baking, the only one I've ever known to tolerate your downright horrible behavior and keep pushing it even though you're an absolute bear to him. He's also the only one I've known in recent history who ever talked to me about wanting to make love to you, rather than just wanting to fuck the mighty British Empire." Francis looked at him, haughtily. "And it took him literally over a hundred years to be officially disheartened by your constant rejection and disapproval, along with your brothers badgering him to leave you alone."
And Arthur was thoroughly hushed by this set of proofs. This was a logical set, even though every fiber of his being desired for it to simply not be true, to find the fallacy with France's words.
But, if A and B were true, and C was true, then that meant that the argument held. And where did that leave Arthur?
"Well." He said, at a loss for words about Alfred F. Jones since the bloody American Revolution.
"You fucked up." Francis said for him, taking a sip of his red wine as his counterpart from Britain nodded solemnly. Arthur simply put the wine list away, and asked the waiter about stronger alcohol available for purchase.
XXXXX
It had taken him a bit of planning to figure out what he wanted to say to the man. Sorry would come in handy, but there had to be a bit more to that then just apologizing, Francis had told him, or Alfred might have the final nail put in his coffin for the potential relationship between the two English speaking nations because he could interpret it as an apology for not having his feelings returned.
And he found himself in at one of Alfred's pride parades in D.C., not that he minded much the event, he just stuck out like sore thumb. He was maneuvering his way through the crowd to the White House, knowing Alfred was probably working at the moment, since the current President was doing his best to make his last years in office count.
And once he had made it, security didn't recognize the glitter-sprinkled man, and he wanted to punch them for their disbelief, having to get out all of his fucking ID for them to be able to let him in the building, before he could even get to actually checking into the place to find Alfred.
He was almost certain President Obama's kids recognized him for who he was, even though he was cursing a storm to rival his pirating days.
However, they left him to the fucking wolves of secretaries and other bureaucratic bullshit while they ran off somewhere. No good brats, he found himself thinking. He'd get them- and their little dog too.
However, that tune changed quickly when suddenly, he was greeted by a rather confused Alfred, who was more questioning why he was here than how he was dressed. "Lay off him." He told the secretaries. "It's Arthur, or uh, England." He explained to the people in office, interns quickly getting lost at the behest of the higher ups, who then dispersed upon Alfred's order. "Is this business?" He asked, tilting his head. "Cause, I know that the secretaries get in a tizzy when nations don't make prior arrangements for political stuff."
"No." Arthur said, brushing off more of the fucking sparkles. "Good god, no. The Tories don't like your current President any more than they have to, and I'm sure he trusts them as far as he could throw the Parliament building."
And Alfred laughed a bit, before nodding. "God, Arthur…that's…rather true, I think." He snickered, before he went quiet again, the awkwardness settling into his demeanor again. "So, what are you here for, if not political stuff?" He looked a bit unsettled. Arthur coughed a bit, and Alfred laughed again, this time seeming more genuinely. "Oh man! I forgot, you get sick like, every year around this time, dontcha?" He snickered. "That's so funny, yanno? It's just me and Hong Kong and Matt's B-days, old man."
But Arthur just looked at him with some displeasure. "Oh…" He took in a breathe, and then let out another. "Look, it's hard enough for me to talk about this sort of thing." He admitted. "France has me unfortunately pinned down correctly as a man whose emotional capabilities more closely mirror a rock than a functional human being." He sniffed, disdainful. "Which, by no means is strictly my fault- he and my brothers all did a fair good amount in making my people skills absolutely horrid." Alfred had a raised eyebrow, and was clearly confused, but when he opened his mouth to butt in, Arthur hushed him furiously.
Once he had his attention again, he bit his lip. "Alright- well. I would like firstly, to apologize for my lack of response at the café the other week." He nodded. "I'm sorry that I didn't say anything, in truth, it was because I was shocked." He nodded. "I never imagined that someone like you could actually…well, be romantically inclined towards one such as myself." Here, he went a bit flush, and Alfred's eyes were wide, his mouth gaping a bit.
"I was so convinced that you would never consider someone like myself, that I admit I acted more like a spoilt brat than a grown man. And for that, too, I'm sorry." Arthur ran his hand through his hair. "And I, I, I, uh." He paused, not sure of where to go from there. "I don't know what else to say, honestly. I forgot what I had planned out before I came here."
Alfred laughed again, this time finally sounding a bit easier. "Oh my god- you didn't know? Like, you actually, honestly didn't know?" He howled with laughter. "Oh, I thought I was being obvious!" He looked at Arthur, who was clearly uncertain and a bit nervous, and opened his arms for a hug, bringing the uncomfortable man close. Arthur tensed, before Alfred rubbed his back and reassured him that it was all okay, and Arthur slowly wrapped his own arms around the younger nation, letting his guard down and letting Alfred in.
"You smell good." Arthur said even though and probably because his voice muffled against Alfred's shirt as he held him tighter.
Alfred pulled him away from his shirt, and looked into his eyes, affectionate. "You're a silly one, that's for sure." He laughed again, but it was soft, and warm. "Now, since you understand me now, will you come out with me to dinner?" He offered, still grinning brightly, and Arthur nodded, still flushed.
"Yes, now, I demand you take me to a place with a large amount of alcohol. I don't particularly care what kind as long as its not just your fruity little cocktails you get with your fake ID- and don't think I don't know you have one, America." He muttered, and feeling warmed when Alfred's big, muscular arm wrapped around his back and his right hand squeezed Arthur's left shoulder reassuringly as the American spoke brightly.
It was all he could do not to lean into the gesture, but he was quickly taken by surprise when Alfred stole a kiss from his lips, making him blush a far brighter shade of red and give into his urge to lean on America, taken aback by the suddenness of a gesture like that.
Now he just had to focus on not showing off his boner around the city.
XXXXX
A/N: HAhh, did u know that in WWII when American soldiers would romance british women, it led to a lot of sex? That's bc in American society its normal for young, blooming relationships to kiss a lot- but in Britain the common idea was that kissing symbolized a long-term deal and was a lot closer to outright sex than the start of a relationship. This mishap led to a lot of problems in communication + the idea in American soldiers that british girls were easy lays.
I like to think that England would be that old fashioned type who still thinks that its more sexual to kiss than its not. B)
(Someone's getting bizzay tonight!)