A/N: NO idea where this idea came from. Just sitting in English today, spazing about math (makes a lot of sense huh?) and somehow started writing this.
The office was rather quite this Friday evening. A number of employees had already gone home for the day. This was Alfred's favorite time to get work done. It was not his fault he easily got distracted by the other workers, nor was it his fault that he often felt the need to help them with their projects before completing his own. He was the office hero and as such was responsible for keeping the company in tip top shape. Some people would have fanned away from this position, but the boisterous American had accepted it with open arms. He loved the look on someone's face when he solved their programming problem, or the pat on the back his boss gave him when he finished a project before schedule. Still being the office hero did mean a lot of work on his part. Sure he had a natural affinity for math and could do any problem three times faster than most, but that did not make his work load any less cumbersome.
Every day he would start on one of his many projects, get about half way into all three (he could not help but multitask), and then be called out by one of the other employees to aid them in whatever it was they needed. Sometimes it was not even a computer issue; sometimes they needed help lifting a large box of equipment, books, or paper. That was the curse of having both bronze and brains, still he enjoyed it. Helping everyone, friends or not, with everything, being the go to guy for every problem, he loved feeling needed.
But, it was this time of day, the hour just before the boss locked up. Everyone one else would be home by now, a peaceful air would always fall upon the office and Alfred would finally be able to focus on his own work. That was why he got into programming in the first place, he loved it. He loved the history of C++ and Java, the systematic approach to the languages. He loved the complex algorithms behind the many computers he had a part in creating. Ever since middle school algebra he had loved math, loved it. It was calming and sound and fascinating and always updating. Sometimes he got chills just think about the amusingness of it all, the almost coincidental equations that somehow explained everything in the universe.
His favorite one of these 'coincident' had to be the natural log, log base e: the thing that seemed to come from a whole in integration rules. A definite integral from one to x of one over t, where x is greater than zero somehow was a log function whose base was used to explain the way telephone lines droop down from pole to pole. He always smiled when he thought of this and often spaced out while sassing about math history. He quickly shook his head to wake back up and look up at his computer screen.
He had been working on this project for a full two weeks and still could not quite crack it. No matter the changes he made there was always some glitch when he tried to run it. He had gone through each line making sure everything was programmed as simple as possible, but still the program stopped about three fourth of the way through the line. He had tried to run it on a number of compilers wondering if that was the issue, but still nothing. It was not like it mattered too much, he had at least three weeks till the deadline, but he loved being early.
After what seemed like twenty hours of tedious sifting through a collection of symbols and letters, he face planted into the keyboard, enlisting a variety of beeps, clanks and other noises from his computer. For a few minutes he rested his forehead on the spacebar staring down at the edge of his wooden desk. Sighing he slowly peeked up at the monitor with one eye. In the lower right corner he noticed the time.
6:45. Shit. He sighed realizing he was only fifteen minutes away from being locked in. Before turning to gather his things into a brown canvas messenger bag (with the American flag painted on the front) he saw the date.
February 17. Double shit. His eyes grew wide as he closed in closer to the computer screen expecting the numbers to change. When they did not he, faster than humanly possible, gathered everything and more into his patriotic bag.
"Oh shit, oh shit. Damn it, how did I get the dates messed up! How did I not realize the 17th was a Friday not a Saturday!" He ran out the building and almost crashed into his motorcycle in an attempt to start it while hoping on. After quickly shoving on a helmet, revving the engine to life and peeling out of the parking structure he headed towards the nearest drug store.
Some people in the store would later tell of a strange breeze that blew down the aisles that night. He ignored the angry expressions from the people he almost knocked over in his hurry to collect everything he needed. The line moved much to slow. That plus one very annoyed looking checkout woman, who knew from Alfred's face and purchase exactly what he forgoten giving him a disapproving stare only added to his embarrassment and frustration. He could not afford to be any later than he already was.
Luckily his destination was only a few blocks down from the shop, and somehow the universe had loved him enough to prevent any red lights on the way. He quickly parked behind the apartment complex, gathered his bags and ran through the back entry. The elevator took an obnoxious amount of time to reach the eighth floor- Alfred almost wished he had taken the stars. Maybe a sweaty appearance would have made him come across as less of a forgetful ass.
When he finally reached his door he hesitated for a moment before opening the door loudly enough to be sure its resident heard him.
"You are late," an irritated British voice sounded from the living room. Alfred took a deep breath and walked into the room only to meet large furrowed brows and tightly crossed arms. In an attempt to lighten the mood he forced a sideways smile and somewhat asked, "A hero is never late."
The reference only made Arthur's face grow angrier as he flew his arm up in rage. "You bloody wanker! Every single year you do this. Every single year I get my hopes up and you bloody forget it and show up an hour past the time you usually get home! Is it engraved in your blessed mind to work especially late on this specific day?"
"Oh come on I did good the first year." Flashing the grin that usually got him a little forgiveness did absolutely nothing.
"And managed to fail for the next five? Oh goody for you, remembering our bloody anniversary once, but (and this may come as a shocker) these sorts of things happen annually. Hence the term ANNIversary!" Arthur's eyes indeed looked angry, but Alfred saw the hurt behind them which made his heart sink. He looked down at his hand and remembered the dozen roses he had gotten, quickly looking up and pushing them towards the furious Brit.
"I remembered to bring roses this time." Arthur's eyes softened a little at the appearance of his favorite flower, but the softness only made them look sadder.
"Vast improvement, git." The words were soft and solemn. Snatching the bouquet from Alfred's outstretched hand he turned and headed towards their bedroom. The door did not slam, but the slow click shocked Alfred just as much.
"I really screwed it up," he sighed to himself, letting the unsealed card fall out of his hand and onto the floor. The living room looked very empty and made Alfred feel like a complete ass. Also, he felt Arthur would surely shove him out if he tried to enter their bedroom, so he decided to move into the kitchen. Food always did help him think.
By the looks of it Arthur had tried to cook something and by the smell he had probably failed miserably. Arthur was good at many things: writing, sewing, kissing, telling stories, even singing, but cooking was defiantly his weak point. Sure he could manage scones or stew, but anything else and Alfred would not be able to breathe in the kitchen for weeks. The fact that Arthur had tried to make him anything at all made him feel even worse, causing his shoulders to drop as he heaved a heavy sigh. Before he could reach the refrigerator and pour himself some milk he noticed something on the corner table. At first it simply looked like a lump on a plate, but as he grew closer it became more and more appetizing.
Sitting neatly center on one of their nice china plates was a rather large hamburger. It had everything from sesame seed buns to bright green lettuce. Alfred's mouth began to water and he almost grabbed the thing and shoved it down his throat. His sudden realization was what stopped him; Arthur had made this for him. Arthur had risked his life, quite literally, by attempting to prepare a nice hamburger for his sixth anniversary with the troubling American.
With that Alfred promptly turned and headed towards the closed white door. He did not hesitate in swinging open the door nor walking over to a surprised green-eyed man and enveloping him in a tight hug.
"Wha-what are you doing bloody wanker! Do not think a simple hug with make me grant your forgiveness." He tried to push the taller man off of him, to no avail. Alfred's hug only tightened with every struggling movement Arthur made.
"Dude, I seriously can't believe you did that! Way to make a bigger ass out of me, right?" Alfred slowly peeled himself from his love to gently look him in the eyes. Arthur looked away with a tint of red on his cheeks. Even after six years together, the American's bright blue eyes always made his heart flutter when they looked at him with such boundless, fathomless love.
"Git-" he muttered before Alfred's lips lightly pressed on his, quickly pulling away before Arthur could even decide to kiss back.
"I love you." the blue eyed man smiled lightly as he squeezed Arthur's shoulders lovingly. "And honestly I did not mean to forget. I really thought I hadn't. I know this will sound like a stupid excuse, but work has been too busy lately and I've the dates got all jumbled in my mind. I swear I was convinced the 17th was on Saturday."
"And I suppose you want me to forgive you based on your pleading voice and possibly true excuses." Arthur was trying very hard to be angry at the man before him. The puppy dog eyes where in no way helping the situation.
"No, but maybe something else will?" Alfred's eyes shown bright as he remembered what was in his bedside table. Arthur watched him curiously as Alfred dug through the mess of papers, candy and McDonald's wrappers and the occasional pen, before pulling out two long slips of laminated paper.
"I got these thinking that Saturday was the 17th. I know how much you like this kinda stuff and when I heard it was in town I thought you'd like it." Alfred smiled, handing the slips to Arthur's curious hands. Upon seeing what exactly they were Arthur's jaw dropped open. Two tickets to the annual Shakespeare festival, something Arthur had always wanted to go to, but had never gotten the chance to.
"I'm really sorry I suck so much, but I bought these tickets a while back and somehow got the idea in my head that our anniversary wasn't until the Saturday of the festival. I really wanted to have it all planned out. I was going to wake you up early and make you an English styled breakfast in bed. Then we would just lounge around and talk and spend time together until it was time to leave for the festival. I even made reservations at that restaurant you always beg me to take you to and after the festival we would go and have a nice dinner and then we come home and have a nice romantic night." Alfred's disappointed expression brought joyful tears to Arthur's eyes. "But, I went a screwed it all up by mixing up the god damn days of the week."
Alfred looked straight into Arthur's soft and tearful eyes. "Shit, now I've gone and made you cry! All 'cuz I'm an idiot who never checks the fucking calendar. I really am so sorry Arthur. I really wanted to do it right this time. I love you so fucking much, but every time I try and plan a way to show you I go and fuck it up!" Alfred was on his knees in front of Arthur, who sat on the bed looking slightly down into the crushed blue eyes of his wonderful boyfriend, watching as small tears fell out of the man bright green eyes.
"You bloody git." Arthur whispered lovingly as his cupped Alfred's cheeks in both hands and quickly pressed his lips against the American's, smiling ever so slightly into the kiss. As they deepened the kiss neither could refrain from looking forward to what would no doubt be their best anniversary yet, even if it happened to be a day late.
A/N: Please comment! Remember every time you don't comment another person forgets about Canada.