This little one-shot is modeled after one of the paragraphs in my fic "Rules for home sweet home." It's number 10 on that list, and I've been asked by a couple of people to write some full length versions so this is number 10, You hear it cry, you kiss it better. Enjoy!
Warnings: Yaoi, a little cursing
Pairings: USUK
Title: Kiss it better
The meeting started out like all the others did. Someone would begin their presentation, this time it happened to be Hungary, and everyone would listen. Normally the presentation would go on for an average of about eleven minutes, Arthur knew because he always counted for lack of better things to do. Elizaveta had gotten to an astonishing twelve minutes before the door was thrown open and the red-eyed Prussian everybody loved to yell at came running in.
Arthur grabbed his briefcase that was sitting next to his chair and grabbed a bottle of aspirin out; taking his glass of water he swallowed two of the small white pills. Should have done this fifteen minutes ago, he thought sourly as the yelling began. Elizaveta was the first to let out a loud screech.
"Get out of here now! You just ruined my presentation you no good," Elizaveta paused for a moment like she was trying to think of what to say, finally she settled with, "Szamár!"
Prussia, in all his idiotic glory just began to laugh, and proceeded to call Hungary a banshee-woman, which didn't go over well to say the least. Thus started the regular flow of the meetings. Arthur could list everything that would happen, and in what order as well. Feliciano would start crying, thinking Hungary and Prussia were going to kill each other, and then he would subsequently hang off of Germany for protection.
"Wahh, Germany! They're going to kill each other!" Feliciano cried as he wrapped his arms around one of Germany's. The German sighed and hit his head against the table.
Then Francis would take the distraction as a good way to grope someone, most likely Antonio, as he was sitting right next to the Frenchman. After Francis got a good feel, Lovino would notice what was going on, call Antonio something mean, and then hit Francis.
"Mon Cher, how are you today?" Francis purred slipping his hands under the oblivious nation's shirt.
"Hola Francis!" Antonio smiled at his blond friend.
"Wh-What are you letting that frenchy do to you, you bastard!" Lovino sputtered as he reached across and tried to strangle Francis with his tie, Antonio looking on much confused.
Pretty much everything else Arthur knew would happen happened. Switzerland pushed Liechtenstein behind him and out of the line of fire in case he decided to calm down the chaos. Austria sighed to himself and buried his face in his hands. Seychelles was reprimanding Francis, Denmark was annoying the shit out of Norway who was trying to get Iceland to talk to him, Sweden was staring at a nervous looking Finland, Russia was looking at Hungary and Prussia with an amused smile on his face while Belarus stared at her brother and Ukraine looked close to tears. He could see Peter's foot sticking out from under the table, little brat must have snuck in again, and what's his name, the blond one was sitting with a polar bear, was that thing even allowed in here, on his lap, looking absolutely mortified like always.
Then there was America. America who was always either laughing uncontrollably, or the one in the fight himself. Right now however, he was just looking on, a bored look on his face. His glasses seemed to be slipping off of his nose, and his jacket was for once draped on the back of the chair and not over his shoulders. Come to think of it, England hadn't heard America speak up once so far this meeting.
Alfred looked up and smiled at the Brit. Arthur could feel his face flush with the embarrassment of being caught staring at the lad. Alfred pushed his chair back and grabbed something from the inside of his bag before heading over to where Arthur sat. Arthur, in the meanwhile chanting in his head for the American to sit the bloody fuck back down.
"Hey there Artie!" And this is how his part of the distracted meetings came into play.
"Don't call me that!" He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Aw, don't be a spoil sport old man!" Alfred teased.
"I am not an old man!" Arthur yelled and then for good measure, "China is older then I!"
"What was that aru!" Arthur and Alfred both ignored the older nation.
"Anyways, I wanted to give this to you!" Alfred said excitedly as he handed Arthur a plain white envelope, one the top left hand corner there was a faded flag, strips and stars waving proudly in the wind, the name on the envelope stated it was for a Mr. Arthur Kirkland.
Arthur was starting to doubt this was a personal invitation from America. It was modest and neat, not at all like Alfred in anyway. Frowning to himself, Arthur turned it over and slid his finger under the flap, opening the letter neatly. He pulled out a white card; his name was embossed on the front in silver scroll. Opening the letter, he saw that it was indeed an invitation.
Mr. Arthur Kirkland
You are cordially invited to the birthday celebration of
Alfred F. Jones.
Your presence would be much appreciated on this date and place
July 4, 2010
The White house grounds.
We look forward to seeing you; presents are not needed, please just bring yourself.
Arthur really was impressed that Alfred would have such an inconspicuous invitation, it was nothing like the others, and none of them had ever been hosted at the white house before either. Arthur looked up to the American wanting some kind of explanation.
"Well, my boss thought it would be a good idea to make it a formal function this year. Said we could promote foreign relations at the same time as my birthday. I didn't really want to have it at the white house, 'cause now we're all going to have to be on our best behaviors. But the boss man was adamant."
"I can't go; I'm doing something that day." Like drinking myself into oblivion, he thought dryly.
"You can't be! Barack talked to your boss and he's even coming!"
"I'm behind on paper work Alfred, and I really don't have time for parties."
"Oh, so that's why you accepted Matthew's invitation then," Alfred started, "Because you don't have time for parties, even though his is only three days before mine."
Arthur looked up surprised; he had never heard Alfred sound so angry before. His blue eyes which were normally wide and expressive were narrowed and glaring. His normally wide smile was a thin set line. Arthur had declined Alfred's invitations before, but this was the first time he had actually seemed angry about it.
"You know what," Alfred said, his voice still dripping with anger, "Forget about it, I don't want you there anyways." He pulled the invitation out of Arthur's hands and walked over to the trash can, ripping it down the middle before letting it fall into the bin.
Arthur watched in terror as Alfred let the pieces fall into the garbage, and then went over and handed Cuba, CUBA OF ALL PEOPLE, an invitation. The Cuban looked at it, and then said something to Alfred, something presumably not nice. Alfred laughed tough, and Cuba nodded his head and if Arthur's talent of reading lips was still as good as it had been, Cuba had actually thanked Alfred for the invitation.
"Oh looks like Amerique has forgotten all about you Mon Cher," Francis cooed into Arthur's ear.
"Get away from me you bloody frog!" Arthur yelled pushing Francis's face away from his own.
"No wonder he declared independence from you," Francis smirked, "If you were anything like you are today, I wouldn't want an inconsiderate and selfish man such as yourself as my guardian."
Arthur grabbed his jacket and fled the meeting room. Elizaveta and Gilbert were still fighting anyways, so it's not like anyone was going to miss him. Not that anyone would if they weren't fighting. Arthur slipped his jacket on over his suit before exiting the building. It was raining.
Raining was an understatement, it was pouring. It was like the sky was crying. Arthur sat alone, outside of the meeting building. By himself, like usual. Why did it have to rain so much here? All rain did was remind him of that day, of that hurt.
Why couldn't Alfred understand that? The fourth day of July was practically the worst day of the year for him. Yet, all Alfred seemed to do was act like it was no big deal. Really, Arthur had gotten in so much damn trouble for the boy. Parliament was ready to go to war with the colonies so much earlier then that and they would have shut down their little rebellion in a couple months, if not weeks.
But Arthur had pleaded with them, war wasn't necessary not yet. The Colonist were just frustrated, when things settled down they would see that England was just trying to do what was best. Alfred was so young. He wasn't ready for the outside world yet. There was too much danger, to many wars, to much hurt. The world was an awful place, and Arthur just wanted to protect his young charge for as long as he could.
"I was just… trying to protect you!" Arthur shouted to the empty streets, tears pouring down his face.
"And I just wanted to protect you." Arthur looked up to see Alfred standing in front of him, soaked to the bone just as he was.
"Wha-?" Arthur wasn't really in the mood to make coherent sentences.
"I know you hate the fourth of July Arthur, I get that. But you don't even understand the half of it! I just wanted to protect you. I always have, always will. I couldn't fight wars for you as a colony though, you would never let me! My birthday isn't about me celebrating my independence from you as you like to think Arthur. It's about me becoming a nation who could protect you."
Arthur wasn't sure when he had stood up, or even when he had moved closer to the American, but the space between them was filled as Alfred scooped the crying Englishman into his arms and began to kiss every inch of him.
Maybe rain wasn't so bad after all…
If any of you have read Rules for home sweet home, you'll recognizethe last three paragraphs or so as the part that was in there. Although it's altered a little to fit the story better.
Reviews are much welcomed and very appreciated!