Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.
Ten
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The sun was high in the sky, its light drifted through the window and lit up the room through the white curtains. With a start, Alfred woke up and quickly looked to the sleeping man next to him. He felt the fading effects of panic, but couldn't remember the cause of his distress. Softly, he ran his fingers through the untidy mess of hair besides him, reassuring himself everything is fine. Alfred trailed his fingers down his love's pale cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear.
"Arthur," he called, a smile played on his lips. He wrapped his arms around the Brit's waist.
The body shifted and an intelligible mumble followed in reply.
"Come on, Artie. Don't make me kiss you awake," he whispered playfully in his ear.
Another grunt and a hand halfheartedly moved to push him away.
"As you wish." He smirked, taking advantage of Arthur's sleepy state to press a soft kiss to soft lips. Alfred never usually got kisses so easily from the stubborn Englishman, who always snapped at him and blushed if he stole a kiss in public.
Arthur's eyes fluttered open and his lips slowly stared to move, kissing back in a sort of drunken way.
Alfred pulled back and chuckled. "I win~"
"It wasn't a game, you git," Arthur grumbled, half annoyed to be awake and half annoyed he pulled away.
"I know, but I'm the Hero and the Hero always gets the girl." He laughed at the Brit's offended expression.
"Excuse me! I am not a fucking girl!"
"I didn't say you were-" He was cut off as a pillow connected with his face. "Hey! Not nice-" Another well-aimed pillow hit its mark. With a growl, he grabbed Arthur's hands and pinned them to the bed.
"No fair! You know you're stronger than me!" He tried to struggle again the vice-like grip.
"I know," he said through smirked lips. Alfred chuckled at the glare Arthur sent his way.
"You're a real ass." Arthur scowled fiercely at him.
Alfred smothered his scowl with a heated kiss, their tongues battling each other for dominance. He smirked as he claimed victory by sliding his tongue past Arthur's swollen lips into the hot wetness of his mouth. Alfred hadn't started out as the best kisser when he began dating the Englishman, but after a few months of Arthur putting him to shame in the tongue department, he finally mastered kissing enough to quiet Arthur's constant jabs at his inexperience. Alfred pulled back, leaving them both panting.
"Don't do that again," Arthur said and then mumbled under his breath, "Or we might never get out of this bed."
He grinned widely. "You love it when I wake you up with kisses though."
Arthur blushed rather brightly and sputtered out, "I-I do not! Don't be foolish!"
Alfred laughed at him and got up, stretching his arms out over his head. "What are we doing today?"
"There's a meeting at eleven." Arthur glared at the clock. "It's nine o' clock now."
He looked out the window. The sun shone brightly, chasing away the chill of winter's tail coats ends. Alfred smiled and silently thanked the weather for such a beautiful day, the echos of his disturbing awakening fade from his mind, leaving nothing but the hope of a new day.
"Earth to Alfred." A pillow flew through the air and hit him in the head, knocking him from his happy castle in the sky.
"Huh?" He looked back to the grouchy man, who was now sitting up in the bed. "Did you say something?"
Arthur glared at him for not listening, not to say that was an unusual occurrence. "As I was saying before, go take a shower while I make breakfast. After you're done, I'll take a shower too."
"Wow, wow, wow! There is no way I'm letting you cook. You take the shower, I'll handle breakfast."
"I beg your pardon!" Arthur gave him an insulted look and scoffed, "My cooking isn't that bad. It's just...an acquired taste for a far more advanced person than you."
"If by person, he means Lord Death himself, then yeah," Alfred mumbled under his breath.
"Shut up, your stupid American!" There went another pillow flying towards him, but this time he caught it, much to the Brit's dissatisfaction.
"I love you too, Artie." Alfred grinned at him.
Arthur blushed furiously. "Oh, be quiet already!" He huffed and stormed away into the bathroom, grumbling curses under his breath all the while.
Alfred laughed his loud, obnoxious laugh and wandered to the kitchen. In the background, he heard the running of water. I wonder if Arthur will let me join him again, he thought to himself. No, stick to the plan, you have breakfast to make. He pouted as he started on making his coffee, only brewing a small amount, knowing Arthur won't want any and not even bothering to try to make tea. Arthur had already told him many times he made the worse tea the finicky Brit had ever tasted. He grumbled as he popped bread into the toaster, remembering how many times Arthur had poured the tea Alfred so kindly made for him down the drain.
"Uptight Brit," he mumbled under his breath.
"You're just an unrefined American with no taste in the simple pleasures of a good cup of tea," Arthur replied from behind him.
Alfred spun to face him. "Would you stop sneaking up on me like that?! It's not cool, dude!" Arthur stood in front of him, some baggy sweatpants hung low on his hips and he didn't have a shirt on. His wet locks of blonde dripped with water and fell over his forest green eyes like a curtain.
"But it's so fun to see your shocked face, love," the Englishman chirped, grinning widely at him.
"How did you even now I was thinking about making tea?!" Alfred angrily thew the toast on to a plate, trying to ignore the fact his lover was wearing almost nothing. "Would you stop with that damn mind reading crap too? I'm not a kid you can trick with a few fancy guesses."
Arthur rolled his eyes, placing a pot of water on the stove. "It was a lucky guess," he grinned devilishly. "Or maybe it was a little more than just luck."
"Arthur," Alfred whined. "You know I don't believe in that magick mumbo jumbo."
The Brit sighed and glared at him. "Seeing isn't always believing, you ignorant boy."
"Don't treat me like a kid, I'm only a couple of years younger than you!"
"You mean four years?" Arthur raised one of his thick, dark eyebrows. "I would say that's more than a couple."
"That's not the point! You're older than me and you talk to flowers!" Alfred was tired of constantly being looked down upon, and Arthur kinda seems crazy when he mumbles to his stupid flowers.
"It is a proven fact that talking to flowers help them grow," Arthur retorted back calmly. "You're acting like a child by bring my roses into this."
Alfred's face went red from embarrassment and anger, knowing in the back of his mind, he was getting too working up over this. "You talk kinder to those silly flowers than your ever have to me!"
"Of course I do. The roses aren't half as annoying as you are!" Arthur felt his anger rising to meet Alfred's. "Are you seriously jealous of my flowers?!"
"No, but you should treat people with more kindness than stupid flowers!" He turned back to the coffee pot, and mumbled under his breath. "Aren't I more important than girly flowers...?"
"Alfred..." He started to say.
"Forget it! You've always cared about things that don't exist before you ever cared about me or anyone else," Alfred yelled, and then, just to hurt him, he added, "No wonder Francis couldn't stand you! You'll never be able to love anyone with your attitude!"
Arthur froze, letting the words hang in the air.
Alfred stared wide-eyed at him, knowing he crossed the line. "Arthur, I'm sorry! I didn't mean-"
"You meant it, don't pretend you didn't," he spat the words in his face. Arthur glared hatefully, his eyes hardened into two icy blocks of green, but Alfred could see the beginning of tears he was trying to hide.
"I'm sorry," he tried to say, but Arthur slapped him across the face and sprinted out the door. "Wait! Arthur!" Alfred chased after him, soon gaining on the smaller man, but even with Alfred's speed, Arthur managed to stay ahead of him, jumping fences and ducking around people.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion right before his eyes. He reached out to grab Arthur's arm, his hand was inches away as Arthur ran out into the street. Just as he did, a dump truck seem to come out of nowhere. In horror, he cried out a warning, but it was too late. Arthur stared at the truck, eyes wide. His scream was cut short by the sickening thud of metal against flesh. Blood sprayed across the concrete, the warm substance hitting Alfred's white shirt, staining it red.
"A-Arthur," he choked out as he approached his love's broken body. Bones jutted out in directions not natural for the human body, blood pooling around him. Alfred fell to his knees beside him, his gazed locked on the deathly pale fave of his Artie. Arthur's eyes stared dully towards the sky, the once beautiful green eyes that had held so much fire, were now blank. Alfred stared into those eyes, searching for that spark of life, but they remained cold and lifeless.
Then everything went black...
More coming soon. I used different methods to write this story, so please, tell me what you think of it. I would like to know if the approach I used to write this was perhaps better than the one I use for my other stories. Thank you for Reading~
-Windy
