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Alfred let himself in and traipsed down Arthur's hallway, leaving his coat dumped by the door and trailing muddy bootprints behind as he searched for his one-time father-figure. He wasn't in any of the usual rooms he was in when Alfred came to visit, so America started opening doors at random, freezing in shock when he found England.
Arthur knelt at the centre of a candle-lit circle, surrounded by strange symbols drawn onto the floorboards in chalk, his narrow frame swathed in a sinister dark robe. Alfred stayed silent, eyes wide with shock as he watched the older man chanting and gesturing. He stayed standing where he was, just observing England's so-called black magic. He'd forgotten Arthur was into that rubbish. Still, it wouldn't hurt to let him carry on with it if it made him feel better. In reality Alfred was just in too good a mood to spoil it by getting Arthur into one of his moods.
At last the chanting and nonsense stopped and Arthur straightened up, pulling his hood back from his face. 'Oh, um.' He seemed flustered, blushing before it gave way to his customary anger and his voice rose. 'God damn' it, Alfred, would it kill you to telephone in advance before you show up at my house?' He demanded testily.
'Whatcha doin' Iggy?' He asked with a sunny grin, the older nation's criticism sliding off like water from a duck's back.
Arthur blushed, looking ferocious, but not meeting Alfred's eyes, instead he examined the toes of his very shiny boots intently and mumbled, 'I was making a spell to protect you, since you're so crap you can't do it for yourself.'
A bark of laughter spilled out of Alfred's mouth before he saw how miserable Arthur looked. He hadn't meant to hurt his mentor. He fell silent and tried again, voice very gentle. 'Thank-you, Artie.'
Arthur tossed the robe to the floor, revealing his street clothes on underneath and brushed past him in search of tea with a mutter of something like, 'Don't mention it. Don't know why I bother anyway.' the mumbling continued as he got to the kitchen and put the kettle. He'd gotten onto the subject of 'Ungrateful little brats with no respect for their elders working their fingers to the bone...' and was clattering away with a teaspoon and the tea caddy by the time Alfred joined him.
Alfred's answering smile was brighter than sunshine.