For The First Time
A USUK song fiction.
Song: For The First Time – The Script (all rights reserved to them!~)
I DO NOT OWN HETALIA OR THE CHARACTERS IN IT! (yet, ufufufu~ )
*Just thought I'd let y'all know, I wrote this out of sheer boredom. I heard this on the radio just like...twenty minutes ago, then thought "Hm. Well, since it's 6:30 a.m. and no sleep was obtained tonight, then, hey, how about I write a completely useless America and England tale, hm?" Pff…anyways!~ Enjoy? 8D
- Taco Porn *
She's all laid up in bed with a broken heart
While I'm drinking jack all alone in my local bar
And we don't know how we got into this mad situation
Only doing things out of frustration.
Tryin' to make it work, but, man, these times are tough.
Arthur curled up on his side, clutching the sheets to his damp and heated face. His caterpillar-like eyebrows conjoined as he tightened the ball his body was wrapped into. Heavy tears pranced out of his eyelids like their little life depended on it, practically creating a waterfall along the Englishman's cheeks. It hurts… thought said man, only making himself hurt more. His heart twisted and turned along with his stomach, creating the sickest, most disturbing feelings he had ever felt before. His watery emerald eyes stared at the beautiful wallpaper ahead of him, trying his very best not to sob again; trying not to choke on another painful sob. He was afraid his heart would crack again, and send it tumbling to the bottom of his very being into a million shattered pieces. Of course, that didn't work. The very thought of that blond-headed American sent Arthur into a frenzy of sobs and choking breaths.
…
Alfred glared down at his small glass of alcohol. He twirled the bronze-colored whiskey in circles, as if each drop was in a drag race, finishing each lap around the inside of the glass, and the clinking of ice cubes were the fans of those drag racers, cheering on and on and on until Alfred grew tired of their cheering, and eventually hooked his lips around the rim of the glass, swiftly tilting it up until he felt the slight burn of liquor trail down his raw throat. He winced at the sting, but fought through it and took another swig.
The American's blue eyes held a look of despondency, and the way his face drooped every time he thought of something (rather, someone) would tell you that he wasn't holding up the 'happy act' anymore. Why would he? Why should he? This was the fifth fight he has had with his boyfriend, Arthur; all of which ended with a good slap to the face and one of them running out of the house in a fit of anger. Obviously, this time around, Alfred had left the hell hole and came to his favorite bar, The Thirsty Camel *, leaving a fuming (and possibly sobbing by now, if he knew the Brit at all) older man behind at their shared home. All because of what had happened merely ten minutes ago…
F L A S H B A C K
Alfred growled at his boyfriend, swinging his arms to just miss the smaller man's face. Arthur had blinked, emerald eyes wide with fury. There was a broken vase on the floor, and the two men tried their best not to step on the shattered pieces. The softest music was playing from right down the hall in their shared room. A song by The Script, Alfred knew, but didn't pay any mind to it. He narrowed his eyes into an intense glare that shot right through the Englishman before him.
"What the HELL, Arthur," he snapped, face as red as a tomato. From anger, that was. "What's your problem, huh?"
Arthur gritted his teeth, pointing around the house. "You don't see this, Alfred," he sneered, "This fucking hell hole? You leave me on fucking purpose just so you leave all of the bloody cleaning to me, don't you? Don't dare you lie to me, Alfred Jones!" He pointed accusingly at the sun-kissed man before him.
Alfred stared in disbelief. His eyes squinted to a hazy glare at the rash Brit. "What," he asked, his voice rising in anger. "What the hell, Arthur! I go out because I have to work so you can have a so-called hell hole, jackass!"
Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms. "I fucking bet, asshole. Your bloody job called just last week. Your employer said to 'go collect your things from your office' before the end of the month." He spat with disgust. "Where the fuck have you been then, huh?"
Silence overtook the American. His eyes were wide with surprise. H…How did he… Alfred's thoughts were cut off by the others sudden "Well?"
The younger blond scoffed, then whipped around and grabbed his jacket, pulling on his shoes and hurrying to the door. He heard the light patter of socked feet rush after him and he finally reached the door. "Alfred F. Jones, if you walk out that door, then don't think of coming ba-" BANG!
The door was shut right in Arthur's face.
E N D
She needs me now but I can't seem to find a time
I've got a new job now in the unemployment line
And we don't know how we got into this mess
It's a gods test
Someone help us 'cause we're doing our best
Trying to make it work but man these times are hard
"Alfred…Alfred please, come home…" came the hoarse voice of Alfred's British boyfriend through the other end of the cellular. The American knitted his eyebrows and shook his head.
"I can't."
"Why?" He insisted.
"Because…" Alfred sighed, narrowing his tired eyes. "…c'mon, Art, I'm trying to work here."
Silence was heard as a response, then a few deep breaths and the very familiar choking sounds. Alfred bit his lip. "Artie, don't cry," he whispered. "I don't like that sound coming from your mouth. Stop crying, alright? I'll be home as soon as I can."
Arthur sniffed, covering his mouth and choking on another messy sob as tears rolled down his cheeks. "Alfred, please…I..I need you…" he cried silently, followed by an exasperated sigh from the American.
"I said I can't right now. Just wait a little," Alfred forced from his mouth. When nothing was heard from the other end except for more sobbing, Alfred rubbed his temples. "I love you, Artie."
"I…I l-love you…t-too..A-Al..fred.." Arthur responded almost immediately, making Alfred smile lightly.
"I'll call later, okay?"
"A...Alright, then…" the Brit huffed, obviously trying to calm himself. "Good b-bye…"
"See ya."
Click.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
But we're gonna start by drinking old cheap bottles of wine
Sit talking up all night
Saying things we haven't for a while, a while yeah
We're smiling but we're close to tears
Even after all these years
We just now got the feeling that we're meeting
Alfred smiled brightly at his lover, while Arthur gave a weak one in return. A bottle of old French red wine sitting on the coffee table and two full glasses in one of each man's hand. The younger man chuckled a bit, taking a sip of the expensive liquid; the action being repeated by the older Brit sitting cross-legged in front of him on their old couch. It was probably already three in the morning, but it had seemed like two seconds to each of the blonds. They had spent the whole afternoon and night just…talking to one another. About their problems, their good qualities, how much they loved each other, and maybe a little heated session or two involving each of their lips.
"No, no, no," Alfred laughed, "you don't even understand, dude! Hamburgers are like…sex, man. Sex right to my tongue. Y'know what I'm talkin' 'bout?"
Arthur tried to suppress a chuckle, but was very unsuccessful. A low laugh escaped the usually dull Brit. He brought his hand up to cover his lips, which were stretched out into an amused smirk. Alfred frowned suddenly, though, making Arthur blink and frown as well. "What's wrong," he asked, knitting his caterpillars.
The American sighed and reached out, pulling down the other man's hand to uncover his mouth. "Artie, you can't just cover up your smile, alright? It's too beautiful to hide."
The Englishman blinked again, then turned a bright shade of red before narrowing his eyes. "That was really sweet…git," he grumbled.
Alfred huffed, puffing out his cheeks. "Why'd ya call me that, Art? It's true!"
"It most certainly is not."
"Is to!"
"Not."
"Mhm."
"Don't lie."
"I'm not!"
"Liar."
"Ugh~" Alfred rubbed his forehead, but laughed nonetheless. He groaned and pouted. "Artie, your smile is so beautiful!"
"…" Arthur looked away with embarrassment, "h…how beautiful..," he grumbled.
Alfred laughed and pulled the other into a tight embrace. "It's so beautiful, that whenever I look at it, I smile, and I go so wild it's not even funny. It's so beautiful that the world stops and stares whenever they see it. It's so beautiful, that dentists are upset that they can't improve the perfectness of that god damned smile. It's perfect. Everything about you is super beautiful and gorgeous that I can't sit still whenever I look at you."
Arthur's eyes widened and he bit at his lip. Very slowly, a smile formed on his lips. "You could have just said 'very beautiful'," he murmured, stuffing his heated face in the other man's shoulder, taking in the warmth of Alfred's skin behind his wrinkled white T-shirt. "That was corny."
The American laughed outwardly. "But it was sweet, right? I didn't know I could turn into Picasso in a matter of minutes."
"Alfred…" Arthur shook his head, then laughed a bit, "Picasso was an artist, you twit."
Alfred stayed silent, as if thinking of what to say next. "Uh…oh! Okay, then Shakespeare!"
"There you go." Arthur chuckled more.
Silence came between the two hugging men. Arthur was busy taking in the scent of Alfred's clothes while Alfred was breathing in the fresh strawberry shampoo scent that radiated from the Brit's hair. Each of them was trapped in their own planet of complete content.
"Artie," Alfred broke the silence after a few minutes.
"Mmm..," Arthur responded.
"I love you," he whispered, narrowing his eyes.
Arthur blinked, looking up at the taller blond with confused eyes. "I know you do. I love you, too," he smiled a bit.
Alfred shook his head. "I don't think you understand how much I do, though."
The Brit tilted his head, and then smirked. "Can you show me, then..?"
The American smiled back and nodded, leaning in and closing the gap between their lips. Arthur closed his eyes, curling his fingers to hook onto his boyfriend's shirt, arching his back and pressing his lips more possessively to his American's. Alfred reached up, trailing his fingertips along the spine of Arthur's back. The smaller man groaned behind Alfred's lips, running his slender hands through the other man's wheat-gold locks.
Alfred poked his tongue out, licking across Arthur's lower lip, as if begging for entrance. The Englishman chuckled breathlessly and allowed him access, opening his mouth and going into a war of dominance, which Alfred had one pretty quickly. Arthur panted and moaned quietly as the American's tongue snaked its way along the walls of the smaller blond's mouth, and massaging over his tongue with his own.
Before the battle for oxygen was lost, Alfred pulled away, leaving a thin bridge of saliva still connecting the two men's mouths. Both were panting lightly, a lustful look clouding their eyes.
"To the room," Arthur asked, licking his bruised lips.
"Yep," Alfred responded, standing up.
Arthur chuckled and stood on the couch, wrapping his arms around his lover's neck and his slender legs around his waist, being held up by the American's brute strength as he was carried to their shared room. Their lips were locked the whole way, in a passionate, heated kiss that led all the way to the room, where they made love the rest of the day, nothing other than the words 'I love you' were spoken in that period of time.
For the first time.
*Kay guys! How'd ya like it? O U O I know, I know, pretty…horrible. But, hey, it's ten thirty now, and I'm just finishing! That says I actually tried really really hard, right? 8D Well, anyways, I know I didn't follow through the ENTIRE song…but I got lazy. Can't blame me, right? O U e Okay well, that's it for right now! Remember to review so you can tell me how horrid I am at writing! See ya 'til next time! 3
- Taco Porn*