Hi~

So I'm back with one of my uninteresting fics and supposedly to become unpopular about Alfred, lol. It's somewhat pointless, but I like it. I really like writing stuff like this on occasion, pointless but sweet, you know? And I'm really ashamed of myself... I have two fics that I need to update, but haven't in, like, a month? hell! I've been so busy irl, *sigh*

ANYWAY!

R&R

ENJOY~!

Fascination For Flowers -

By: Mi-moon

Alfred didn't know when it had started.

One day when he had returned from his daily duty to do paperwork for his country it had just been there when he walked up to his door on his doorstep.

The flower.

He had barely noticed it, since it lay on the ground beside his feet and all, but he did and he couldn't help but to stare confused at it.

Just a simple flower lying there on his doorstep.

Although, the flower couldn't really be described as "simple", it was far beyond that.

It was the most beautiful flower Alfred had seen in his whole life, and believe him when he said that he had seen many flowers in his days.

He had picked it up and looked around, as if someone might have dropped it there on accident and would come running back for it. When no one did, he twirled the flower in his hand, thinking nothing special of it. He then shrugged and opened his door and walked inside, taking the flower with him.

It was a big surprice to him when the next day, on the exact same spot, laid, once again, a flower.

It was a different speice this time, though. The flower the day before had been red, this one was purple leaning towards blue.

He bent down and picked the new flower up with his free hand and stared disbeliefing at it. It was… kind off strange to find two flowers on his doorstep two days in a row. Not that people didn't send him flowers, they did, but normally there would be a bouquet, a card with lovely greetings and maybe a chocolate box, but it was never just a flower.

Never.

That's why Alfred found it strange. He looked on the ground, but true, there was nothing there that could have been delivered together with the flower, nothing.

Just a flower.

He smiled, feeling as if he had a secret admirer somewhere, and he chuckled at his stupidity, because that couldn't be it. No way. He brought the flower inside and placed it in the same vase as the red flower from the day before.

Things got really strange the next day, however, when he once again found another kind off flower waiting for him on his doorstep when he got home.

This time he quickly picked it up and eyed it suspiciously.

Today the flower had a clear green colour, the same as its' own stalk and leafes, making it look pretty… odd, but beautiful nontheless.

Alfred looked around on his neighbours' houses and on the street, but nothing gave the impression of that anything should be out of the usual, except for the flower in his hand.

He scratched his head confused, and maybe he was mildly worried because he didn't know who or what had left the flower at his porch.

Maybe it was poisonuss…? He suspiciously eyed the flower from afar, and then he blinked. He was acting stupid.

It was only a flower.

After casting a worried look over his shoulder he walked inside and closed the door behind him.

The fourth day came along with a fourth flower.

Alfred stared at it before hesitantly picking it up.

He was seriously thrown off now.

Sure, the flowers were pretty, this new one holding a soft yellow colour, but it felt kind of stalker-ish to find flowers coming from an unknown source in front of his door.

Was someone stalking him? What if it was some kind of psycopath that had decided he was his next victim?

He quickly spun around and et his eyes dart nervoulsy over his neighbourhood, pretty much alike the day before. He then shook his head and let a nervous laugh escape his lips. He was just being silly. These flowers probably came from someone who wanted to show their affection by dilivering flowers to him everyday… yeah. That was diffinitely it.

Even if the flower made him fidget and feel nervous, he still brought it inside and put it together with the three other flowers in his old vase on his coffeetable.

To Alfreds' surprice and maybe not so much pleasure, there was another flower waiting for him the next day again.

And the next,

and the next,

and the next…

Everyday he returned from his work there would be a different flower lying on his front porch, waiting for him.

This continued for a long time, and at first it terrified Alfred.

He imagined that someone was after him, or something as the like.

When he after three weeks figured that, no, that probably wasn't the case since the flowers hadn't done anything except giving his livingroom a more colourfull envoirment, he started asking around out of pure curiosity.

He caught the mailman and asked him if he dilivered the flowers to him everyday and if he knew where they came from. The mailman had just shook his head and said that he had no idea what he was talking about, for he had surely not dilivered any flowers to Alfreds house the last months at least. Alfred had thanked him for his time, feeling a slight dissapointment in his chest, but he refused to give up! He had started feeling rather determined to find out where the flowers came from and who sent them.

He had asked his neighbours if the had seen anything while he was away for work, like, a woman or a man going to his house or such things but they had all shook their head and said that 'No, nothing was out of the usual'.

Alfred then went to the local flower shop and asked them if they had been delivering all these flowers to his adress. Once again his aswer had been no, and he tried to describe the flowers in hope of that they would change their minds and maybe remember something.

They didn't, but they did ask him, rather excitedly, if he could take some of the flowers with him so that they could take a look at them, because they just sounded 'Oh, so interesting and exotic!'.

Alfred had done as he'd been told, also rather anxious to find out abut the mysterious flowers that kept pouring into his house as every day passed, and had brought some of the flowers with him down to the store. The storeowners had gaped and fussed over the flowers, saying they had never seen such spieces before and that this was indeed very interesting.

Alfred himself started to get curious about the flowers when he watched the gardeners fuss over them and before he knew it, every time he got a new flower, he would go down to the library and rummage through the books and read up on the specific spiece. Soon he was pretty well-knowing in the 'flower spieces' area, and his curiousity started to turn into excitement.

He soon found himself running home after a long day of work with a smile on his lips, wondering what kind of flower would be waiting for him today and what kind of colour it would have, what would be special about this one?

Questions like that spurred him throughout his long working hours and he often finished his paperwork earlier so that he could go home and see what flower was waiting for him this day.

This kept on going for days, weeks, months, but Alfred didn't get bored.

Everyday held a new flower for him to learn about and this kept him entertained.

He grew to feel some kind of fondness towards the person who sent these flowers to him, because really. The action was kind of… sweet and Alfred felt flattered by it. He felt that he got to know this person, simply by receiving the flowers that were sent to him, which sound pretty weird since he doesn't know who sent them and had never met them before or caught him/her in the act of delivering the flowers, but he still felt as if he made… friends with this person somehow.

Since he was working so effectivily, he was done with his preperations to the world meeting on Monday when it was still only Friday.

His boss, being proud off him, gave him the weekend off so that he could relax, and boy, did he relax… Well, not really. He planned to at least get a glimpse of his secret admirer and hopefully catch him in the act of delivering the flower.

So that weekend he spent by constantly keeping check of the street infront of his house and his sneces fully on alert, even while he was watching TV.

So there he had been sitting, in his sofa with the TV on mute, watching some Awesome American soap opera (awesome because he made it, duh) while listening for any sound coming from outside his front door. A small scratching sound could be heard and Alfred perked up, his ears tensing gradually as he tried to listen. Then a thud and Alfred was up running towards the door.

As he swung it open he really did think he had won and that he would see the mysterious person that had been sending him flowers since fabruary that same year, but no.

God disliked him or something because there was nothing, no one, there. Just his porch.

A little dissapointed, Alfred sighed.

Then there was a thud from the backdoor and Alfred jumped surpriced at the sound. He quickly spun around and dashed through the house to the other side and flung, this time, the back door open and there it was.

A lone, beautiful flower, lying just outside the door.

He stared at it, mouth agape.

There was no way…

Then a broad, wicked grin spread over his face as he bent down and picked up the orange flower. His smile was almost triumphant, but it held a more surpriced and pleased twist to it. That mysterious bastard had outsmarted him and sneaked to the backdoor instead. He hummed a soft tune as he walked back inside and closed the door behind him.

Monday came without succesfuly finding out his admirer and Alfred hoped on a plane to Berlin where the world meeting would be held this year.

He was excited to tell someone, anyone about his little "adventure", if you could even call it that.

When he dashed into the meeting room, he was instantly greeted by Arthurs briefcase flying past dangerously close to his head and then a few swearwords coming from the great Brittish empire as he and Francis had an all out brawl on the meeting table.

Alfred chuckled, familiar with the scene and was about to say something when Ludwig walked in and told everyone to take his or her places. Alfred quickly took a seat between Arthur and Francis, mostly to tell them about his admirer, but also to stop them from strangling each other.

When he sat down, said men both threw quick glances at him as he beamed, obviously in a good mood compared to the other two who were pretty sulky about their argument.

"… Bounjour, mon ami Alfred." Francis smiled pervertedly, or was it normally? You could never tell with him… Arthur glared at the man from the other side of Alfred.

"Yo, Francis! Iggy!" Alfred greated them both. Arthurs scowl deepened at the nickname.

"Good morning, Alfred, and my name is not Iggy, for the millionth time..." He muttered darkly and rested his head in his hand. Francis gave Arthur a dissaproving look and would have commented that it was not good to be grumpy in such a young age if Alfred hadn't spoken first, obvious to the slightly gloomy mood to his left.

"You guys have no idea what's been going on at my place this year!" Alfred beamed, his cheerfull aura stirring the interest in the two older men.

"Do share." Arthur said, succesfully hiding his curiosity, or maybe he just wasn't curious because he thought this would be another one of Alfreds' long ass boring speeches of how awesome he had been and so on.

"Oui, please do." Francis agreed. Alfreds' smile widened as he told the story about the mysterious appearances of new flowers every day on his doorstep. The two other nations listened interested and mildly surprised to the story.

"Mon dieu! Alfred! This is so exciting, non? Someone out there has a crush on you!" Francis burst excitedly when Alfred was done with his tale. This caused Alfred to blush, doubt showing in his bright blue orbs.

"No… I don't think…" He trailed off.

"Oui, oui! Trust me, mon ami! I, the country of love, know what I am talking about! C'est et un magnifique! I am so happy for you~!" Francis gestured with his arms in a lovefull manner, his voice dreamy.

"Oh, belt up, frog!" Arthur spat from beside Alfred. Francis ignored him and held a speech; not noticing it was falling on deaf ears as Alfred and Arthur talked with each other. "Although…" Arthur continued, ignoring the Frenchman. "That is one wicked year you've had so far, boy… Flowers? A new one every day? Really?" Alfred nodded excitedly.

"Yeah! And every time, it's a new kind of flower, it's just so exciting! It's like Christmas every day, you know? You know there's going to be presents, but you don't know what you'll get!" Arthur nodded, showing that he understood and Alfred went on. "And also, this guy, or girl, I dunno, seems so nice! And you know, I learn more and more about different flower spieces every day and I just can't wait to find out more!"

"That is… fairly interesting." Arthur agreed, averting his eyes. "A different flower each day, huh… But, Alfred?" Alfred turned to him, goofy smile across his face.

"What, Iggy?"

"It's Arthur." Arthur growled irritated, but coughed in his hand afterwards, his cheeks holding a light red colour. "If he, or she, sends you a different flowerd every day… Won't that…? I mean, like…" He struggled for words.

"I'm totally not following you right now." America said confused and crossed his arms. Arthur hissed at him.

"What I mean to say is that you are aware that there's a limited amount of flower spieces around the world, right?" Alfred nodded slowly, understanding what Arthur's getting at. "And I might be wrong, but does that not mean he, or she, will stop when there's no more flowers to send?" Alfred blinked.

And then he blinked again. Arthur was right! The person would stop sending flowers when there were no flowers left to send.

It was pretty obvious but right now Alfred was doumbstruck by knowing the fact that it all would end some day. Arthur watched his former charge stare shocked out at nothing in particular and heaved a sigh.

"Not that I know for sure, I'm just saying is all…" He shrugged and shook his head.

"Mou~!" Francis shouted and both of them jumped in their chairs. "You are not even listening to moi! You impolite bastards!"

"Shut up, frog! Why would anyone waste their time on listening to you?" Arthur snapped back, and they were quickly at it again.

"Silence!" Ludwig roared and the meeting room went quiet. "Everyone sit down so we can start this meeting and actually try do something usefull for once! Any objections to this?" No one said anything and Ludwig nodded satesfied.

As the other nations talked *cough*argued*cough* about different subjects, Alfred wasn't paying attention. He sat in his chair and let Arthurs' words sink in.

He couldn't imagine how his days would look like once the admirer ran out of flowers.

What would he do all day? What was he supposed to look forward to every morning he had to force himself out of bed? What was going to happen…?

When he arrived home, back to America, that day a flower lay waiting truthfully at him on his front porch. But today it only succeded in making Alfreds' mood go down further as he picked it up and twirled it between his fingers before heading inside the house.

Arthur had been right, the flowers did stop coming.

After couple of years (and mind you they fly by pretty fast when you're a nation) when Alfred came home one day from his brother's place, there was no flower waiting for him.

At first he had only stood there for a long time, staring at the spot where the flower usually lay, as if expecting it to pop up any second so that he could bring it inside.

After a few minutes he gave up and with a depressed sigh he went inside his house.

The coming weeks Alfred would be down for count.

He would lull around and work, doing in particular nothing and when he was at home he would be restess and lie in his couch and stare at his ceiling.

He had nothing to do, nothing to fuss over, and no flowers to inspect and read about.

Sure, he could call someone and force them to keep him company, but he didn't feel like it. So he spent many days locked inside his house, becoming nothing more than a ghost to his neighbours.

Eventually, Arthur had had enough of his sulking and came for a visit.

Knock, knock.

Alfred sighed. "Urgh… I'm coming!" And he rolled of the couch, averting his attention from whatever show he'd been watching and made his way to the door. Once he opened it a scowling Arthur met him.

"Oh." Was his simple sentence upon seeing his friend. "Hi."

"Don't you 'Hi' me, you git! Not after dissappearing from the meetings, moaning about how some stupid flowers stopped being delivered to your house and locking yourself in for god knows how many weeks now! Bloody hell, grow up already! It was just flowers!" Arthur was right on cue and harsh at all times, all right. Alfred pouted, feeling as if Arthur just had insulted him and not his flowers.

"Hey! Don't disrespect the flowers! I actually enjoyed participating in that little act of affection someone out there directed towards me." He said, and crossed his arms, sulking further. Arthur just eyed him, the annoyence gone from his face. He sighed and shook his head.

"What am I to do with you?" He mumbled, "Come on. Move out of the way so that I can come inside and keep you company." Alfred stepped aside, feeling a little gratefull to Arthur for actually caring.

"Thanks man… It means a lot." Arthur just shot him a look, but nodded as he walked past him. "It's just… I really liked getting flowers…" Alfred trailed off. Arthur studied him with those green eyes of his, then he patted the Americans back comfortingly.

"Let's talk about it inside, git. I'm sure it will sort out eventually, you'll see."

"Yeah, thanks." Alfred smiled and for a second or two, Arthur returned it.

"You're welcome."

A few days after Arthur pepp talked Alfred, something maical happened.

When Alfred came home from work that day, a lone herb plant lay in front of his door, waiting for him.

He frooze, staring at it and it stared back at him, and if he dare say, it was as if it challenged, urged him to pick it up and exemine it.

A smile spread across his face as he picked the plant up, something in his gut telling him there would be another herb plant waiting for him the next day.

And the day after that,

and the day after that,

and the day after that…

Alfred skipp-dashed inside his house, burning with new passion to learn a lot, this time, about herbs.

Omake.

Francis walked down the lovely neighbourhood he was living in.

He loved his house and his neighbours and he loved the peace and the quiet that came along with them and the beauty of life and he loved wine and roses and trees and flowers and also nations of all kinds and he loved cats, and dogs and bunnies, difinitely bunnies! And also, also… he loved Arthur and cafés and crossiants and…

Wait… what?

Francis stopped abruptly, staring at the unusal sight of his since long friend and enemie walking down the street in his direction.

When Arthur came close enough, Francis found his own voice again.

"Mon dieu… Bonjour, Arthur…" He said as he stared at the petite male.

Arthur looked tired as hell, bags under his eyes and his perfect compusre cracking along with his slumped shoulders.

Arthur dull green eyes stared up at him and Francis found himself desperately searching for the usual spark of anger flash through them, but it never came.

"Ah…" Arthur said absently, recognizing the Frenchman. "Good day, Francis. Beautiful day, no?" He said straightening up slightly and smiling lightly. Francis gaped. No insult whatsoever, something was off!

"Oui… It is a beautiful day…" He said awkwardly. "So how are you these days, mon cheri? Is everything running smoothly over at your place?"

"Ah, yes." Arthur nodded. "I do like tea, now if you'll excuse me…" He staggered onwards past Francis who stared disbeliefing after him.

He hadn't said anything about tea, what was Arthur babbling about? He must appearently be so tired he hadn't heard a word Francis had said.

Francis smirked. He wanted to test something on exhausted Arthur.

"Attendre, ma belle…"Francis purred, wrapping his arms around Arthurs' slim waist, hugging him close. "Vous avez l'air fatigué. Pourquoi ne pas venir à ma place et se reposer? Je vais vous faire sentir bien…" [You look tired. Why don't you come over to my place and rest up? I'll make you feel good...] He whispered with a husky voice in Arthurs' ear.

As he suspected, Arthur didn't even put up a fight, instead he answered him on Francis own beautiful language.

"Cela me semble ... tentante. Mais vous êtes un pervers et je n'ai pas envie d'être flirté avec aujourd'hui..."[That sounds… tempting. But you're a pervert and I don't feel like being flirted with today…] Arthur mumbled tiredly.

Then he paused and blinked.

Then he slapped a hand over his mouth, life returning to his eyes as he spun around towards the triumphantly smirking Frenchman.

"AHA!" Francis shouted and pointed at Arthur. "I knew you knew French! Ahahahaha! Viva la France, WOOOO!" He did a little victory dance and Arthur scowled.

"S-shut up!" He growled irritated. "Just… throw yourself at a wall!" And then he abruptly turned around and stomped off somewhere Francis did not know. Maybe he went to bully Spain or something.

After Francis laughter had died down, he looked down at his feet and he raised his eyebrows in susrprice.

There, on the ground, lay a herb.

Of what kind, he did not know, but he assumed Arthur had dropped it when he broke free from him. He picked it up and eyed it.

Why would Arthur carry around herbs…?

He shrugged, not really carig and walked on down the street.

Ignore my grammar fails, please... I know they're in there somewhere (# =`д´=)

(Baaaw, like my new cute smilie? I do :D)

THANK YOU FOR READING! You made this pretty girl happy!

Owari...