APH UsUkUs The Proposal
Arthur woke up slowly, listening to the heavy quiet of his bedroom. Alfred was gone, leaving an almost palpable void behind in his absence.
Arthur reached a hand over, trailing pale fingers over cool sheets feeling them anyway even though he knew that the American's warmth would be long gone.
"Stupid git.", Arthur mumbled, sighing as he curled back up tightly into himself again. Alfred knew that he liked to be woken up to say goodbye before he left even though he would never admit it aloud to him. All things considered, he didn't even mind driving Alfred to the airport. A part of him even enjoyed it though their partings were usually sad and quite tense.
Showing his romantic Hollywood inspired side at the oddest of times, Alfred had let him sleep in and from the smell of it, he had even made breakfast. Bacon and eggs if the scent of severe butter over usage was any indication.
Arthur glared at the slivers of morning light that dared to piece through his pale curtains, reminding him that the day was being sorely wasted and he had things that needed to get done. He got up stiffly, grumbling to no one in particular as he made his way to the bathroom to start his morning, belated now thanks to American's daft concept of romance.
Arthur…..for lack of a better word…..felt…
…..off.
That was saying something considering how old he was. One got to know themselves quite thoroughly after a couple of millennia. Arthur glared at his reflection, the mirror image giving him nothing back of course. Nothing new as least. Same old messy hair, same old grumpy expression, same old scarred body, same old him.
Running his fingers through short spiky strands of pale gold, Arthur wandered back into his room to dress for the coming afternoon. Many nations were under the impression that Arthur was a morning person. Nothing could be further from the truth though. At his considerable age, deep-rooted habits had been so long established and ingrained into his being that Arthur could prepare for the entire day without really realizing it or even actually being awake for it. Which is why he sometimes came to drinking hot water instead of tea or would come to find out later that his sweater vest was on inside out and backwards.
Upon arriving in his kitchen, breakfast's existence was confirmed, eggs and bacon still toasty warm in the oven. Arthur found himself smiling despite his earlier annoyance at his boyfriend and the continual sense of foreboding that seemed to linger over his being. He pulled the hot plate out carefully with a well singed oven mitt(despite the fact they were supposed to be fire retardant).
Popping on the electric kettle, Arthur nibbled on crispy bacon waiting for the water to boil as he tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter, his neatly trimmed nails tapping out a quick tempo….that sounded …..well…off. He had been waiting all morning for this strange feeling to dissipate. Arthur hoped that a solid cup of Earl Grey would help it along.
**tic, tap, tic, tic**
**tic, tap, tic, tic**
Arthur tilted his head, listening to his nails hit the glazed tile countertops. Even that sounded strange to him, his fingers….finger…..feeling oddly heavy.
Arthur woke up fully to focus on a rather large piece of jewelry on his left ring finger. It was a half inch band engraved with roses and oak leaves in a Celtic style, the intricate loopy technique wrought in warm rose gold and icy white gold. The design wrapped around a rather large and very perfect square cut emerald. Arthur wondered briefly how the hell he could have missed it. He really was going daft in his old age.
Arthur blinked in surprise at it, shaking his hand ineffectively. The ring remained stubbornly in place. Since it refused to disappear, Arthur gave it another good hard look. It was a real emerald. Arthur could tell that with just a glance, the fire of the gem heralding its authenticity. It was real gold too. The weight of it attested to that.
Puzzled at its existence and why it was on his finger of all places, Arthur let his mind wander. He actually rather liked jewelry, having worn quite a bit of it during his time at sea. The Victorian Age was another grand foray into the metallic genre. He still had some favored pieces knocking about somewhere. Arthur made a mental note to clean out his closets later on after this was all sorts….
…..But that was besides the point…..
This was the here and now…and it kinda….sorta…. looked like an engagement ring. It was certainly on the correct finger for it.
Arthur stared at it for another long moment, before the electric kettle told him it was time for tea. The morning beverage was brewed as various things were carefully considered. It was obviously a joke of course. An expensive joke, but still one none the less.
Arthur decided to take his tea in his parlor, sitting in his throne like Chesterfield. He studied his outstretched hand thoughtfully with heavy half lidded eyes, sipping at his steaming cup delicately. Arthur savored the drink, rolling it over his tongue as he made the light dance off of the green stone prettily, the emerald's hue a near match to his own eyes.
It had to be France. That snail sucker could never take "No!", "Fuck no!", or "Bloody Hell No!" for an answer. Arthur fished out his cell phone from his pocket, calling the notorious Frenchman.
"I don't know how you did it or when, but the answer is still and will forever be "NO!".", Arthur said in way of greeting.
"Angleterre…I know it iz five o'clock somewhere but don't you think it iz a little bit early to be drinking even for you?", Francis yawned, quite used to irritated Englishmen. That didn't mean he liked to deal with them first thing in the morning though. He had his beauty sleep to consider. He simply didn't do noon bright eyed and bushy tailed.
"I'm not drunk! The ring, you wine guzzling bastard! You are a right idiot for spending that much on something ridiculous like this. It would serve you right if I decided to keep it.", Arthur berated in a calm cool tone, like he was lecturing child and not an ancient nation older than even himself.
"What ring?", Francis yawned, beginning to lose interest. He considered hanging up. His bed was calling him back to its soft depths enticingly.
"Now who is drunk and senile? The bloody engagement ring that is on my finger!", Arthur snapped irritably, wanting Francis to fess up already so he could just get on with his day.
"And I am zayin I know nothing about an….wait….did you zay an engagement ring?!", Francis perked up considerably, waving off bed's call. He suddenly felt very awake and very interested.
"Mon Dieu! Engagement ring! When did Amerique propoze!? How!? Speak you ridiculous man, speak! I want ze detailz! Ze passion! L'amore!", Francis said in impatient, hungry tones, jumping up out of his seat to start pacing excitedly. There would be so many things to plan now. It had been only a matter of time of course. Francis had a sixth sense about these sort of things. It had taken America and England a lot longer than he had originally predicted but better late that never he guessed.
"What rubbish are you going on about now?! We don't have that kind of relationship!", Arthur sighed into the phone, wondering where this line of questioning was coming from or if Francis had somehow managed to become even stupider than he previously remembered.
On his side of the channel, the French nation was staring baffled at his stylish silver phone. "Angleterre….", Francis began slowly, trying to control himself in the face of such rampant idiocy, "What kind of 'relationship' do you have then?" The two nations were utterly ridiculous to him sometimes in their general ineffectiveness in matters of the heart. At times like this, he truly despaired for them.
"….An open one.", Arthur answered weakly, floundering in his own mixed feelings on the issue and doing nothing to alleviated Francis's fears.
"Oh really…an open relationship...hon, hon hon….", Francis chuckled, wondering if Arthur actually knew the meaning of the term.
"Belt up! I was drunk, you got lucky, it was over a century ago! Get over it!" Arthur growled, his slim fingers starting to crush the reinforced exterior of the phone. Alfred had had it specially made for him, complete with a Union Jack decal on the back of it, knowing intimately of the Brit's temper and inadvertent phone abuse.
"So if that iz ze case, have you been seeing others?", Francis asked, grinning widely. He knew when he had an Englishman in a bit of a spot. The Frenchman planned to make him wiggle a bit just for the simple joy of it.
"No of course not! What do you take me for!? Some sort of loose tart?!", Arthur snapped, taking the bait.
"Haz our dear Alfred?", Francis inquired, already knowing the answer.
"No….not to my knowledge..", Arthur answered hesitantly.
"Nor mine. He iz a zuch a loyal puppy dog.", Francis chuckled warmly into the receiver. It was a well known fact among all the nations who the superpower only had big blue eyes for.
"Why are we even talking about this! It can't be him because this is your stupid prank! I'll have you know, I don't appreciate the joke! I have other things to do than deal with your insipid nonsense.", Arthur said gruffly, losing his patience for the entire conversation. It was certainly not going in the direction he originally imagined.
"Ahhhh I zee….Your boyfriend for the better part of a zentury propozes to you… Oui, I can zee the mystery, the intrigue.", Francis said dryly, not even bothering to keep the note of the distain out of his voice.
"He didn't propose, you daft frog! I woke up with this damn ring on my finger!", Arthur yelled, thoroughly put out now. He was met with a moment of long silence from his old frenemy.
"…Really?…..", Francis asked, a bit in awe of the American if he had done what he was thinking.
"Yes, really! It doesn't scream Alfred, now does it?. Subtlety isn't exactly the lad's specialty after all.", Arthur countered though he was becoming less sure of it with every passing second. The ring was a lovely thing, aimed for his own personal preferences. Francis would have done something big and gaudy, like a diamond large enough to see from the moon, accompanied with buckets of rosebud petals and bad taste.
"That iz brilliant!", Francis happily yelled, blowing kisses to some nearby pictures of the American posing with his twin.
"Come again? What are you blathering on about now?", Arthur sighed, slumping deeper into his chair, his fingers toying with the ring in question.
"Do you not zee?! Have you not eyez, mon ami!? I am zo proud of him! I just knew zome of me would rub off on him!", Francis crowed, taking the picture off of the shelf to dance with the frame.
"Ye gods, one can certainly hope not. Stop spouted out rubbish and get on with it, frog.", Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose gingerly. He could practically hear Francis making an ass out of his self, gallivanting round his flat.
"It iz the perfect propozal for you! Do you not zee?!", Francis practically sang in his personal triumph, falling back into his settee at the end of his impromptu dance to prop up the picture of the twin on a nearby accent cushion, "You are not put on ze spot! He iz letting you decide in your obstinate, complex little English way!"
"Rubbish. I'm not stubborn.", Arthur sniffed, a bit miffed at the comment.
"You are about az flexible az zhat stick up your azz. We all know how oppozed you are to the change.", Francis snorted, rolling his eyes at the ceiling.
"I am not! Sod off you daft frog!", Arthur barked, not about to take barbs from the Frenchman lying down.
"Let me azk you zhis then…..Do your courtz still have to wear thoze ridiculous little wigz?", Francis smirked nastily, already tasting victory.
"That is tradition!", Arthur spat out defensively
"And provez my point! Our dear Alfred iz letting you decide in private. If he were to fall on the bended knee in ze public, you would run away, Oui?", Francis predicted correctly.
"I-I…", Arthur sputtered nonsensically as he tried to imagine it. He got quite red and flustered in his various attempts to visualize it though.
"You would! There iz no point in denying it!", Francis smiled widely, loving the feeling of being right as an Englishman stewed in his own issues, " Thiz way, you can simply take off ze ring and throw it into a drawer if you were not interested…..and that stupid."
Arthur found himself chewing at his nails with severe distaste, an old habit of his and one he had never been able to break. His forest eyes went back to matching stone in the ring, studying it again for what felt like the hundredth time today.
It was truly a lovely thing, an item of rare beauty and excellent craftsmanship. It was not some 'out of the case' item. This piece had been commissioned and planned out that much was evident. It even combined some of the most beloved symbols of himself-the rose, the oak, and even the lush green of the emerald. This of a craft of love and one of promise.
"Oh my God! Alfred proposed!", Arthur gasped, "To me!"
On his end, Francis was practically having a conniption, gesturing helplessly about him. Really, Arthur could be so slow on certain concepts, especially the ones that involved himself.
"Oui! Very good! Now that we are finally on the zame page….", Francis sighed heavily under the burden of being him only to find himself interrupted.
"Why would he go and do a stupid thing like that for?!", Arthur shrieked, jumping out of his chair so fast he practically knocked it over.
Francis slapped his forehead with an open palm, whispering a quick prayer for patience and with fools in love.
"I don't know rosbif. Perhaps he iz, I do not know, in love with you?", Francis said overly slow as he plucked petals off of a handy rose. He could hear Arthur making little random freaking out noises on the other end of the line. Francis almost wished he was there to witness it. Arthur truly undone was a rare and very funny sight, the nation usually the master of composed understatement. After a bit, Arthur regained enough of his self-control to babble into the phone.
"What do I do!? What the bloody hell do I do now!?", Arthur blathered, running nervous fingers through his hair. It didn't help. He could feel the cold metal of the ring on his scalp.
"Zay Yes?"
"AWWWWWW!"
"…Non then?"
"I can't possibly!"
"Pourquoi?"
"Because we are nations you daft twat! We have responsibilities! We don't marry!", Arthur snarled, clutching his phone tightly enough it started to crack, despite being made of tempered metal. Being angry at Francis was an old hat and a nice distraction from his current predicament though.
"Austria and Hungary would beg to differ with you. Poland and Lithuania for that matter az well.", Francis countered smoothly.
"That was all political! Alfred and I…."
"Zpecial Relationship.", Francis sang, merrily using the old term to his fullest advantage.
"You are never going to let me forget that.", Arthur grumbled, deflating a bit.
"Not when it haz such a charming ring to it though I have alwayz preferred 'lie back and think of England' perzonally.", Francis purred.
"Christ, you are such a bleeding pervert.", Arthur sighed. Despite everything, he started to chuckle. It quickly turned into a full blown out bout of laughter, bursting of real mirth. Francis stared down at his phone in surprise. Arthur rarely if ever laughed, more given to dry haughty chuckles or snorts of amused disgust. Francis could still count on two hands how many times he had heard Arthur laugh like this in all their history together, all 2000+ years.
"Anglete…Arthur, mon ami? Are you alright?", Francis asked hesitantly after a terse moment of silence following the Englishman's outburst, only occasionally broken by nervous spells of giggling.
"Hmm? Oh…sorry Francis…it's just…", "Arthur finally caught his breath, drying his eyes on his shirt sleeves, "It's just…..he asked me to marry him…."
"Yez, yez he did. Now ze question is, 'What will you do?", Francis asked, his curiosity practically killing him.
"None of your bloody damn business.", Arthur said calmly, ending the phone call with definite snap of his cell phone.
On the other end of the line, Francis stared at his phone in stunned disbelief. He spent the rest of the day cursing at it and the general cruel indecisiveness of Englishmen.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
Arthur settled back into his chair, ignoring his phone on purpose. The caller id kept coming up 'The Bloody Frog' anyway so in his opinion, it didn't really matter.
He kept cycling through several different stages, some of them very similar to death.
Denial of course- "This has to be a joke. It's Alfred after all. When is that prat ever serious?"
Anger- "How could he do this!? Things have been going so well! How could he even think about putting me through this, that sodding git!?"
Bargaining- "This could work, right? Better trade agreements…Stronger political bonds…If I say yes, it could mean a good deal all round for the both of us."
Depression- "This is all a big mistake. No one would want to ever marry a sour old thing like me. I'm blowing this all out of proportion. It's probably just a gift. I'm looking too deeply into this, desperate prat I am."
Acceptance…..with some….er...a lot of help from a bottle of rum- "Smart lad! I raised him right, I did! Good eye for the finer things in life and who can blame him. I am quite a catch!"
This repeated several times….with more bottles of alcohol to help him along…. until Arthur found himself praying to the porcelain gods quite fervently. Crawling up to the sink basin, Arthur hunched over it in a half hearted attempt to clean up, quite sober now having forcefully purged it from his guts and in a lot of pain from his head, heart, but most of all his stomach. He glared at the ring, blaming it for the entire ordeal. Arthur decided he wanted it off. Now.
He found, however, that the ring was actually quite well fitted to his finger and un-agreeable with him about its removal. Copious amounts of liquid soap was used to coax it off finally after a long struggle with it. Arthur glared at the piece of jewelry balefully about to chuck it into the bin just for the sake of it being out of his sight when something caught his eye. He ended up running, tumbling over his feet in his haste, to get to his study to look at it under a better source of light.
On the inside of the ring in its own golden sky were engraved stars studded in with tiny diamonds. They surrounded a line of words written out in flowing cursive.
A-Marry Me-A
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
"Alfred, as much as I love and adore your announced visits, was there an actual reason for this one?", Matthew sighed, burrowing his head into his arms on the kitchen counter, "Or do you just plan on continuing to freak me out by staring at your phone for another couple of hours?"
Alfred had arrived straight from England to his doorstep, full of nervous energy. Despite his seemingly endless reserve of it, the American kept himself in one chair in the Canadian's neat kitchen, getting up only occasionally to wear a hole in the floor from pacing in front of it. The entire time his eyes never strayed from his phone.
"Uh, um, no, yeah, maybe? What was the question?", Alfred spazzed mentally with an annoyed look, barely even glancing at his twin. The American yelped when his phone was plucked up off of the counter to swung precariously between Matthew's fingertips.
"Now that I have got your full attention hoser, what are you doing here, eh?", Matthew demanded, keeping the phone well out of reach.
"Heh-heh…just being awesome bro. C'mon, give me back my phone.", Alfred laughed weakly, debating on the pros and cons of tackling Matthew.
"Non! You are driving me nuts and making Kumanbuma nervous. Nervous polar bears pee on things. I don't like cleaning up pee.", Matthew complained, pointing to his incontinent animal companion who resided on the counter watching both nation curiously. "Who?", Kumajirou asked in self-defense.
"Apparently you gross bear. Seriously…..can I have my phone back now dude?", Alfred whined, his eyes never leaving the phone being held captive. It was sequestered to the depths of Matthew's pocket for safe keeping.
"Nothing doing! Talk. Now.", Matthew stated firmly, crossing his arms.
"I'm expecting a phone call.", Alfred explained, debating whether or not mugging his brother for his phone would be considered an international incident.
"Yeah, no shit. Are you and England fighting again?", Matthew huffed, glaring at a fidgeting American who was trying to look innocent and failing miserably.
"Not exactly….", Alfred trailed off, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. Matthew didn't look impressed by that answer.
"What's that supposed to mean? Al, what did you do now!?", Matthew sighed, moving to lock up his liquor cabinet, "Is England going to show up here drunk again?"
"Um…maybe. I don't know…..", Alfred mumbled, dry washing his hands uncertainly.
"AL!", Matthew snapped, fed up with the entire situation. He really wanted to know if a half naked Englishman was going to be coming through his door or not.
"I kinda…..kinda….sorta….maybe proposed!", Alfred blurted out. He gauged Matthew's reaction or lack there of, pressing his forefingers together in nervous little gestures. The Canadian stared back at him stunned.
"Oh. My. God.", Matthew said excitedly, "That's great! What did he say?!"
"I have no idea.", Alfred said without a doubt in his mind. He grinned uncertainly at his twin who was imitating a fish rather well at the moment.
"What…?", Matthew tried to mentally grasp at the concept, several scenarios running through his head. None of them were good.
"Well…I gave him the ring and flew here.", Alfred explained to him. He was met with a confused look.
"England….the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, our old keeper, that Arthur. He had absolutely nothing to say when you, you of all nations, gave him an engagement ring.", Matthew worked out slowly, really hating to have to ask the next question, "Why not?". The Canadian just knew he was going to hate the answer.
"He was asleep.", Alfred admitted, without an ounce of remorse or real understanding on his handsome face. He watched intrigued as Matthew stared up at his ceiling, making all sorts of faces at it while whispering in long, flowing streams of French. From what he could overhear, it sounded like an odd mixture of prayer and vivid cursing. Alfred jumped in surprise when Matthew turned about quickly to grip at his shoulders tightly.
"Al….", Matthew took a deep breathe, "You are an idiot."
"Huh?", came said idiot's response.
"Who proposes to someone who is still asleep and then runs away?", Matthew asked rhetorically, his bear looking up to add in its two cents, "Who?"
"Idiots that's who!", Matthew told him assertively, releasing his twin to shake his head at him. Alfred's eyes grew wide in sudden realization of his previous inept actions toward matrimony.
"Oh crap! Crappity, crap, crap, crap in a hat! What am I going to do?! I'm so fucked! Iggy is going to dump my ass! I'm so screwed and not in the fun way! Mattie, Mattie, Mattie! What am I going to do!?", Alfred babbled like a madman, getting a hold of Matthew to shake him within an inch of his life.
Both nations froze when they heard Urban Delights' 'Calling London', which was Alfred's ring tone for Arthur. The forgotten phone rang from the depths of Matthew's pocket, the Canadian's eyes going wide at the opening notes. Alfred had that look on his face, like something was about to happen and a concept as trivial as pants were not going to stop him.
"Al…hold on a sec…..let me… give me just a min…Awwwwww!", Matthew yelled as he was suddenly flipped head over heels, his pants the victim of the American's haste and super strength as the phone was forcefully recovered, "Maple…..I liked those….Why?!"
Alfred stared at the small vibrating device, frozen with a sudden, all recompensing fear as it merrily sang away.
"You had better answer that damn it!", Matthew yelled from the floor, debating whether of not his favorite pair of jeans could be saved or were destined for the bin. He would not let their murder be in vain though. Alfred took a deep breath, chanting his mantra, "I'm a hero, I'm a hero, I'm a…."
He expected an long and angry tirade full of English slurs and odd slang. He did not expect the long, tense silence that met him though.
"…..Arthur?", Alfred finally said in a small hopeless voice. He closed his eyes, anticipate the very worst. Arthur was pissed and was going to dump his ass. He was about to be kicked to the curb…..
"Yes." **click**
Alfred stared at the phone blankly.
"Al…..what did he say?", Matthew asked, picking himself off of the floor. He was happy he had decided to wear underwear today. His favorite maple leaf boxers had survived the assault. Alfred didn't answer his though. He ran out of the house, not even bothering with his luggage. His sneakers ate ground hungrily as Alfred ran toward the general direction of the airport, his excitement giving him wings.
His joyous shout could even be heard from within the depths of the house. Matthew smiled despite his loss of lucky jeans, finding his own phone is the remnants of his clothing. He was sure Francis would love to hear about this.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOO
Arthur sat in his parlor, looking down fondly at his ring. He touched it with light fingertips, tracing the outline of the sparkling detail work.
It was only a matter of time now. Alfred would be here soon enough, the noisy American filling every nook and cranny simply with just his very existence.
Arthur smiled.