A/N: Woo. Been a long time since I updated something over here. Originally done for a kink meme request; thought I'd post it up. This is my first time writing such a story with such settings (the conditions stated in the request agreed with my stomach; and I had a plot so might as well.) I shall try and make this as less cliched as possible (you know, with this type of story and settings), and constructive critism are very much welcomed. C:
Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia. If I ever do, I'd put US and UK in a bottle.
Really, what was up with Arthur?
Alfred had barely caught up with Arthur-hell for a person who had done below average in physical education classes, he was fast. He had tried to approach Arthur ever since the first day of school and somehow Arthur liked to avoid-if not, insult.
He had also lost count on the number of times Arthur had attempted physical violence whenever Alfred had tried to even get near and surprised hugged him from the back-it seemed as if Arthur was hell bent on avoiding him for some reason.
Alfred couldn't figure out that part. Even his peers around him, when they heard that Alfred had decided (or more accurately, declared in the middle of the cafeteria out loud one day when Arthur civilly told him to 'stop bothering the fuck out of me, I don't need your sympathy') to make Arthur his friend by the end of the year, everyone had sincerely doubted his sanity.
Which didn't matter to Alfred. There was something that attracted him to Arthur.
(Maybe it was how often he had seen Arthur with that permanent scowl on his face, sitting alone during lunchtimes whilst he was surrounded by friends and cheerleaders wanting to talk to him, or how no one was willing to be Arthur's lab partner and how Arthur had simply brushed it off as if it was nothing and did his experiment on his own. Alfred volunteered to be his lab partner for the rest of the year after that session.)
He shut his locker door with a small bang. Love notes from the girls again. Alfred smiled slightly. He'd have to reject those. It was not as if the girls were not attractive, it was just that Alfred wasn't too sure about having a girlfriend just yet, and if he had one and she insisted on coming back home with him-
-Alfred stopped his thoughts here. He was fine without a girlfriend anyway, it didn't matter.
(There were some things better off not knowing-)
And besides, he liked how his life was going right now.
"-alright, got it. Sure thing." Pause, and then a click of tongue. "-yeah yeah got it, Mattie. It's not as if-" Alfred exhaled, sighing. "I know. Don't be such a worrywart! Sometimes I swear you are so damned naggy somtimes, like a mother." Laughter. "K, see you tomorrow buddy!"
Whew. Alfred's shoulders sagged down. Matthew was a good friend, but sometimes he could be rather paranoid. Then again, a snide voice piped up, He knows.
Alfred ignored that thought and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He should perhaps stop by the Chinese takeaway shop first, and then head home-
-house. Alfred mentally corrected himself. Not home, house. Head back to the house. There was not any reason to call that 'house' a 'home'. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.
Man, he was dwelling on things way too much.
"-oh my god!"
For the briefest of all instance Alfred stiffened up, eyes going wide. Had someone-?
-no. Alfred breathed in deeply. He was jumping too fast to conclusions. Too paranoid. That's why he hated thinking. Walking over to the alley, he found a woman standing there, a look of apparent shock on her face. She was pointing to a seated figure leaning against the wall.
Alfred turned, and his eyes immediately widen in recognition.
Arthur.
He ran up to Arthur, kneeling beside him, cursing. Shit, he didn't look too good. He placed two fingers on the base of Arthur's neck.
…Good. There was pulse, which meant that he was still alive and his injuries didn't seem too bad to call up an ambulance either, but Alfred could not possibly leave him alone like that. The dark skies rumbled menacingly overhead.
...there was only one option, which was to bring Arthur back to his house. Alfred frowned. He didn't like the idea of having someone else in his house with that person still in there.
-But there didn't seem like any much of a choice. Alfred sighed. Rolling up his sleeves, he slung an arm over Arthur and lifted him up. Assuring the lady that he would see to Arthur's injuries, Alfred began his way home with an unconscious Arthur.
-and perhaps, Alfred decided to put his optimism on others to good use on himself, that nothing would happen or Arthur would remain like that for some time.
(It would be bad if Arthur got caught up in his matters.)
Arthur woke up to a throbbing headache. He should have expected that it was a trap-which he did-but he had underestimated how many people the other gang had brought-small fry, they were. Arthur winced. His bandaged hand coming up to touch his cheek gingerly-
-wait. Bandage? Arthur froze for a moment. He immediately sat up from the bed (Since when was he on a bed? He had to be dreaming) and took a quick look around. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off, save for the table lamp. The room, he quickly realized much to his disapproval, was in complete disarray. Random pieces of clothing were hastily strewn about on the floor. A huge poster of some American superhero hung far by the side of the room. Books-mostly comic books- were littered everywhere, on the floor, on the desk, on the bed-
-Aha. His eyes finally fell on to a very familiar brown bomber jacket. Oh no. He had to be dreaming. This was pathetic. He was pathetic. Arthur snorted. Really. Alfred? It had to be a big joke. He glanced down at his bandaged hand. It was done rather amateurishly, clumsily wrapped around, and Arthur couldn't help but think that this would be just what exactly Alfred would do-
-and Arthur decided right there and then that when he woke up he was going home, and then find that French bastard later to land a couple of punches at him to make himself feel better-
"SON OF A BITCH!"
Arthur's head snapped up immediately, startled. What the hell was happening? Were his brothers getting into a fight again? (It was dream, anything was possible-) No, it couldn't be. Even though
muffled, Arthur could tell that it did not belong to any of his family member. (Perhaps he wasn't dreaming after all-)
Curiosity eventually got the better of him. Arthur stood up and walked as silently as he could over to the door, the yelling and noises becoming louder as he approached. Turning the doorknob, he opened the door slightly and peeked out.
"-you good for nothing, son of that useless cunt-" The larger man managed to say clearly, a hand gripping the back of the sofa, the other holding a beer bottle with a broken end. "-never should have married such a fucking whore who can't even bear me a fucking son alive-" he advanced towards a figure (Alfred? It had to be. But yet Arthur didn't want to believe that it was-) leaning heavily on to the wall, panting. as he swung his free hand across Alfred's face. "-you should just die. Never should have been born in the first place. That face you have there-" He grabbed Alfred up by his hair and yanked him up roughly. "-don't smile. You think you are that cocky, huh? Think again, brat. One day I am going to pick up that gun and kill you off. How would you like that, huh?" He slurred, before releasing Alfred and kicked him in his leg, standing up fully.
"-if you can, old man." Alfred managed to say after sometime, wiping away the blood away from his chapped lips, a bright smile spreading over his face. "-you can never get rid of your shining son. "
(Arthur felt the icy pit in his stomach grow. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck was going on? What the fuck was Alfred saying? This was not normal. Why the hell was Alfred things like that as if it was normal? What thefuck was happening. He wanted to move and pull Alfred into safety-)
The man grunted in acknowledgement and moved unsteadily towards the kitchen. "-stuck with babysitting this little fucker-" Mutter.
At this point, Arthur gathered enough sense to immediately shut the door. He headed over to the bed and pulled the covers over his head, turning to the side, breathing hard. He didn't even realized that he had been holding his breath for the whole time.
What the fuck just happened? It had to be a dream. It had to be. Heaven had a twisted sense of humour for showing him something this sick.
-but yet, it explained everything about Alfred. It explained why Alfred would sometimes arrive late, sporting bruises on the least likely of all places that didn't match up with his excuses he gave ("I wasplaying with my friend's golden retriever! He likes to pounce on people!" "Ahaha, I know, I know! But I kinda got these while playing football with my cousins. They play rough!"), why he had gave some vague answer and changed subjects immediately or go completely tight lipped whenever the topic of his family life was brought up, that quick falter of his goddamned sunny smile whenever the teachers said that Alfred's parents must really had been proud of him for doing so well-
-"Yo! Arthur? You awake?" Alfred strode in, cutting off Arthur's thoughts immediately. He was holding two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. "Storm's starting up, so I made something hot!" He placed the mugs down on to the bedside table.
Arthur coughed, pretending to rise up of the bed. "It's hard to remain unconscious when you hear a terribly obnoxious sounding voice."
(He was seized with a sudden urge to reach out and wrap his arms around Alfred; and tell him that everything was alright but he didn't.)
"Haha! I don't like your brows either but you have to thank me for waking you up with my awesome voice! It'd be troublesome for me if you remained unconscious; I don't want to lug your fat ass over to the hospital!"
...Splutter. "Who are you calling fat and there's absolutely nothing wrong with my brows you git-"
"I was just joking! Okay, you are all back to normal now." Alfred pushed a cup into Arthur's hands. "Did you get into a fight again? Seriously, Arthur, you should stop fighting and get hurt..."
Arthur wasn't listening. He simply stared at Alfred in disbelief, as if he was some new species of human. Alfred was more worried about him than himself? His situation?
(This was so screwed up.)
"It is none of your business. Worry about yourself more, Jones." He snapped back, glancing down at Alfred's new injuries. "I see you have gotten more." Perhaps Alfred could get this. Get at where Arthur was going.
"-yeah, yeah. I tripped on the staircase just now while getting you up. Don't worry! It's nothing too serious don't fuss too much over it-"
There was when Arthur snapped. He slammed the mug down on the table and socked Alfred in the jaw.
"-the hell?" Alfred winced and cradled his jaw, giving Arthur a weird look. "Is this how you repay people when they rescue you off the streets-"
"Shut the fuck up." Arthur growled, his eyes flashing. He could not bear it. Alfred was acting like some happy normal person after something like that simply did not feel right at all. Any normal human being would have at least showed some sign of by now so why was it that Alfred-
"You aren't the one to talk. How can you act as if nothing had happened after-" Arthur stopped, and grabbed Alfred's wrist, standing. "Learn to lie better. Where's your bathroom? We need to get those bruises attended to." His tone took on a softer edge. "...wouldn't want them to get too obvious, would you? The teachers might sniff out something suspicious." He was not doing this for Alfred because how his heart was clenching for that prat.
Alfred stared at Arthur for one long moment before a slow, hesitant smile start to spread across his face, and then broke out into a bout of small chortles."..You do have a funny sense of humor, Arthur." He reached out and ruffled Arthur's hair. "...But thanks."
Arthur twitched visibly at Alfred's action and grumbled slightly under his breath. "You are the weird one here."
Pause.
"You're...welcome."