Hi guys! So, um, this is my first fanfic, and it's a fragmented UKUS lemon/angst/reminiscing story, but the sex isn't explicit really. I tried to focus more on the emotions these two lover boys were experiencing, hahah. Oh yeah! The words in italics are Arthur's memories of the summer.

Er, enjoy! :) Please review if you have the time! Thank you! :D


The golden brown leaves crunched underneath Alfred's shoes as he took a slow walk back to his Bronx apartment from the local GameStop. He took in a deep breath of the sharp autumn air and slowly let it out. Winter was coming soon, and with it, hot chocolate, daylight savings time, and miserable, lonely nights. All he had was his ratty old comforter and a long distance cell phone to keep him company during those torturous nights. Alfred despised winter. He sighed and jogged up the stairs of his building and up to the door to his small apartment. He fished his keys out of his pocket and let himself in. Alfred basked in the immediate warmth and cocoa scent of his pristine room, but he felt no comfort being in an empty house.

It had been 2 weeks since his boyfriend of 2 years, Arthur Kirkland, went back to London after staying the summer in New York. It was one of those days Alfred suffered without him. Every creak in the floorboards echoed throughout the room, amplifying the emptiness. He glanced down at his watch and despondently tossed his newly bought video game on his couch and flopped down onto it. Alfred glanced again at his watch, willing the time to go faster. Every day at 12 PM, Arthur would call him and they would talk for hours on end until Arthur knocked out, because Alfred took night classes at Columbia University. It was these phone calls that Alfred lived for during fall, winter, and spring. They filled the gaping hole in his chest that would throb at every reminder of Arthur in his small, insignificant life; every photo, every British accent, every pair of green eyes, every head of blond hair (though Arthur's eyes and hair were waaay better than the people he saw on the street). The second hand of his watch stubbornly moved at the same crawling pace.

It was only 11:12.

Alfred groaned and reached for the television remote. He flipped through the seemingly endless and definitely boring channels. He flipped to one of the movie channels; it was playing X-Men: Origins: Wolverine. Alfred smiled fondly as he remembered the last time he saw it.

He and Arthur were sitting on the couch in sweat pants and t-shirts, cuddling and making scathing commentary on the movie. "Dude, did he seriously just pull his spine out? That's disgusting," Alfred complained. Arthur rolled his eyes and said, "Stop complaining, you were the one who wanted to watch it!" "But I was bored," Alfred whined. Arthur sighed and muttered, "Do I really have to spend my last night with you watching shitty movies?" Alfred's eyes widened in sudden realization. "Holy crap, I forgot about that..." His face slowly lost its vibrancy and a dull glow replaced the sparkle in his eyes. Arthur raised an eyebrow and said incredulously, "You just realized?" Alfred pouted and glared half-heartedly at Arthur. "Isn't it obvious?" Arthur tilted his head in mock puzzlement. He took Alfred's chin in his hand and slowly turned his face to look in his sad, blue eyes. A wave of longing and deep depression washed over Arthur at the sight of those normally vibrant eyes wearing such pain. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in to press a loving kiss to Alfred's lips. Alfred sighed deeply before closing his own eyes and moving closer to apply more pressure to the kiss.

It was 4:23 AM. Arthur's tired eyes scanned the bustling halls at JFK International Airport. He spotted a head of dirty blond hair out of the crowd waiting at the exit to the terminal for his incoming flight from London. Ocean blue eyes looked directly at Arthur and he barely had time to register it was Alfred before he found himself locked in an almost suffocating embrace. Yet, he felt relief, being able to breathe easy after months of agony without the other half of his heart.

At first, the kiss was slow and sensual but soon became more passionate and desperate.

After a night of heavy drinking together, Arthur's lips found themselves plastered to Alfred's body, haphazardly tearing clothes off, Alfred doing something similar, but no more organized. Uncoordinated hands roamed contours of sweaty, inebriated bodies, ragged breaths and moans swallowed the silence, the smell of sex hung thick in the air.

The silence of the room was filled with the sounds of anguished lovers; breathy moans, the smack of lips against lips, the rub of skin against skin.

Arthur let Alfred's voice seep into his ears, the moans and cries of "more" just egged him on more. He rapidly thrust into the beautiful boy, he interlocked his fingers into Alfred's smooth, inexperienced hands; the sounds of Alfred's cries were the sounds of angels. He couldn't hold out any longer, and apparently, neither could Alfred; they came together in a symbolic purr of absolute satisfaction.

Arthur pushed Alfred down on the couch with something like a growl and kissed and bit at his neck.

Alfred ran through the playground sprinklers fully clothed, laughing like an innocent child; in a way, he was. He was completely devoted to Arthur and showered his almost tangible love on him. Arthur drew satisfaction from the fact that all of that love was his, but he would never be so bold as to claim the free-spirited creature running so unshackled was his.

Alfred moaned and snaked his arms around Arthur's neck in a tight embrace.

They sat complacently on a park bench, people watching and cuddling. Arthur loved the way Alfred's arms fit around him. It seemed so perfect.

Arthur's hands roamed down to pull the hem of Alfred's t-shirt over his head while Alfred released his lock around Arthur's neck to drag his hands and tug at Arthur's shirt, pulling it over his head.

One day at the YMCA pool, Arthur couldn't help but feel insecure about his body. Compared to Alfred, he was thinner, lankier, yet he still had wiry layers upon layers of muscle; but that was from intense and dedicated workouts. Alfred had to just eat a Big Mac and he would miraculously drop 2 pounds, or add a layer to his toned muscles. Arthur didn't mind the height difference, though; it was only 2 centimeters and didn't bother him.

Once Arthur freed Alfred from his old t-shirt, he gently ran his fingertips over his chest, trailing them with light kisses, all the way down to the drawstring of Alfred's sweats. Alfred 's hips involuntarily jerked up into Arthur's face. He smiled apologetically to Arthur's scowl. The (not) upset man lightly tugged on the drawstring with his teeth and Alfred moaned in mere anticipation.

"What in the hell is a cocito?" Arthur said in confusion. Alfred gasped dramatically and practically yelled, "The way of LIFE during the New York summers!" Arthur's puzzled expression just became more prominent. His flustered boyfriend quickly explained, "It's like an icee, except way more awesome! You NEED to try it!" Eating a cocito with Alfred on hot summer afternoons had to be one of Arthur's new favorite things about summer. He wished he had them in London.

In one fluid movement, Alfred was stripped of his pants. He felt Arthur's eyes on his more… prominent body parts and his face flushed a deep red. He heard Arthur laughing and he blushed even more. "Don't laugh at me…" he muttered. Arthur put a hand on his cheek and stroked it softly. "You make it so hard, though. You're adorable," Arthur practically cooed. "No talking during sex!" Alfred replied quickly, throwing an arm over his face to hide his blush. The next instance, his underwear was gone, leaving his throbbing cock exposed to the cold air and Arthur's devious touch.

Alfred's reminiscing was broken when the shrill ring of "Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall" sounded through the room. He quickly snatched up his phone and read the name on the Caller ID. Arthur. He answered the call with a very loud and bright, "Hey babe!" "Hello, love. Sorry I took a while to call, I was a bit busy with some students," Arthur replied tiredly. Alfred said, "It's no biggie! How was work?" He could just imagine Arthur sitting in his favorite loveseat with his tie loosened and his hand on his temple as he groaned, "Tough. The headteacher is such a bitch. He's always complaining about student teachers to his secretary while I'm standing right behind him. Doesn't have any bloody respect… On top of that, I have to deal with Francis, ugh, just saying his name gives me a migraine." Alfred laughed and said, "Hang in there, old man! You'll be fine. The school year only just started right?" He could hear the smile in Arthur's voice when he replied, "Who are you calling old? And yes, I hope so. How have you been?" Alfred sighed deeply, "Got class at 9 today, so I have to go at 7:30 if I want to make it to school in time. Then I have work from 12 to 7, so I'll be pretty beat when I get home tomorrow. Other than that, I'm feeling fantastic!" Arthur was quick to catch him on the lie. "You don't sound very fantastic. What's bothering you?" It always amazed Alfred that Arthur picked up on the small things through his voice alone. It just made him miss the whimsical man even more; the pain grew so hard to bear sometimes, and it broke through Alfred's shell of false happiness. A single tear slid down Alfred's face. "I miss you," he said softly into the receiver. There was a pause on the other end. "So do I, love. So do I."