Hey there, Fang here.
I know...let's hurt iggy some more...I'm so sorry! I just can't think of any fluffy pieces to write right now...I'm working my imagination as fast as possible, I swear! But for the moment, This is the only fic I have completely finished, so enjoy at your leisure...i guess...
B-T-Dub, this is for the 7/7 bombings...I'm extremely sorry if I don't do it justice, I'm an American...
When Arthur first stepped into the World Conference meeting room, he was slammed flat on his back. The wind was fully knocked out of him, both from the floor hitting his back and the young man crushing him in a bear hug from the front.
"Hello, America, old chap…" he mumbled, once he got his breath somewhat back to normal, but was still muffed by the other country's embrace.
"Hey, Iggy!" America squeezed him a bit tighter, but did let him go. After standing up, he extended a hand to his brother, who took it, allowing Alfred to pull him up off the floor. He dusted off his suit jacket while Alfred, still laughing, adjusted Texas.
"It's good to see you too, Alfred." America grinned widely. Arthur just shook his head and murmured a few curses about the now slightly wrinkled plight of his clothing for old times sake. America knew from experience that Arthur wasn't as #!*% as he seemed to be. Especially now of late, ever since…well, that's why he wasn't getting much of a chewing out form the British gentleman. Alfred hoped his hug thoroughly expressed his thanks for the slight change in Arthur's demeanor.
"So…you been doin ok?" Alfred's meaning held more weight than his light tone suggested. Both of the countries had been the subject of terrorist attacks, sporting wounds that, as they were healing, would open up without warning.
Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "As well as I can be, I guess."
Alfred seemed to take that as an acceptable answer and slung his arm around his brother's shoulders.
"Awesome! Cause I have this insane idea that is totally going to work this time with natural disasters…"
Arthur tuned him out by this point, but by no means had any intention of shutting him up. Actually, he permitted to admit to himself, Alfred's ramblings were somewhat calming, a familiarity that he had grown albeit with some struggle, used to. With all the constant worry about terrorist attacks and economic issues, Arthur allowed himself to forget about that, even if just for a moment.
"-But dude, I totally have to save that for the meeting! After all the countries have had their ideas rejected, of course. Cause in the books and movies, the last point made in a meeting always works, and the hero always says it! This is so gonna work!"
"Don't get your hopes up, dear chap." Arthur shrugged Alfred's arm off, as Germany and France were coming into the conference room The two nations took their respective seats in preparation for the chaotic meeting to come.
Arthur rubbed the back of his head wearily as he stood up with all the other countries. Three long hours of pointless bloody gibberish…it's a miracle in itself that his voice wasn't raw from all the yelling and cursing he'd done. Bloody #!*% , why did certain countries have to be so stupid? Then he could save time by not having to explain in uncouth words, and the meeting would have been over quicker. But, #!*% it, life had a funny way of not quite working the way he wanted it to.
He had gathered up his things, and prepared to go home (As the meeting was taking place in his own country). All of the other countries had found lodgings in hotels, so he didn't have a reason to worry about anything out of the ordinary happening. As he walked out the door, he smiled to himself as he anticipated a calm, quite evening at home, a pot of tea brewing, a newspaper in his lap… #!*% , maybe he would even actually go to bed early! He had already prepared his points for tomorrow's world meeting, and it had been a while since he had taken a day for himself…yes, Arthur was going to enjoy tonight.
"Hey, Artie!" Alfred came running up to him, rousing him from his thoughts. The American had a duffel bag in one hand, and his coat in the other.
"What is it, git…"
"Can I stay with you at your place?"
"…What? Why?"England's hopes for a night undisturbed went up in a poof of smoke before his eyes.
"Cause in all of my hero work, I totally forgot to book a room…"
Git, Arthur thought. Outside of his head, he said, "Git."
"Yes! Thanks, Arthur! I knew I could count on you!"
Well, may it never be said that Arthur wasn't a man of unplanned hospitality. With only half of him in regret for his now lost evening, Arthur led his younger brother to his car, waving him away from the driver's seat. Last time he let Alfred drive…well, he swore upon Earl Grey tea he wouldn't go through such a hair-raising experience ever again.
Arthur's rather large house was six or seven miles outside ofLondon, so after the two of them got past the traffic of leaving the big city, it didn't take long to drive over there. Alfred's non-stop talking never seemed so loud than in that car.
Eventually, though it seemed like an eternity toEngland, they were parking in his driveway. Before Iggy had even touched the brake pedal, Alfred was already out of the car and dashing towards the front door. Arthur simply shook his head fondly and followed his former charge.
Alfred had opened up the door with the spare key Arthur had given him some years back, and now had tossed his crap onto the closest possible piece of floor he could find. Arthur signed as he closed the door behind him' Alfred never intended to go to a hotel at all.
Alfred turned around to face him, stretching his arms out wide, a contented grin on his face.
"Ah…this place hasn't changed a bit!" He smiled widely. But one look at the door behind Arthur melted that smile off.
"Arthur, could you lock the door?"
His face held apprehension…and maybe just a hint of fear. Arthur had seen it many times in the past few years, and he hated it, mostly because he understood the past behind it. He turned and clicked the lock into place, and looked at Alfred's face once again. Just as he had hoped, and expected, Alfred had calmed, and was trying to regain some of his old spirit.
"Sorry about that, man, it's just-"
"You know, you don't have to explain anything to me, dear chap."
Alfred's face took on a look of relief, and Arthur finally checked the time on his watch: 8:03. He took his brother's shoulder and steered him into his tearoom, motioning at any of the comfortable easy chairs surrounding the tea table.
"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back with hot drinks in a moment."
"If it's tea, I swear I'm gonna ruin your carpet with it!" Alfred called after England's retreating form. Arthur rolled his eyes.
A few minutes later, Arthur returned with tea for himself and coffee, decaf of course, for Alfred. He almost, almost, considered making him tea just for the #!*% of it, but he wasn't going to weigh those chances against his carpet's well-being.
Alfred, in the time Arthur was gone, had gone around the room, closing every curtain to every window, double checking the locks on those windows, and had finally sat down in the armchair farthest from any part of the outside. He did accept the coffee gratefully, though a few half-joking comments about American coffee being totally better earned him a piercing glare from his older brother.
Arthur sat in the opposing chair next to Alfred, right next to the window. Alfred stiffened a little, but relaxed a bit as he calculated the number of steps it would take to reach Arthur in case…well, just in case.
The two of them sat in silence, a rarity becoming not-so-rare anymore, simply sipping (Or downright gulping, in Alfred's case) their respective drinks. Uncommon as it was, Arthur decided to break the silence.
"You're still paranoid." It was a statement, not a guess. Alfred remained quiet, though he glanced up at Arthur, and then back to his cup. Arthur wanted a few more seconds for Alfred to speak, and when he got no response, the Brit continued.
"It's been almost four years, Alfred. No major attacks have occurred since. You know you can star to relax."
" #!*% no." Alfred's hand was starting to shake, and the motion began creating little ripples on the surface of the remaining coffee. He looked Arthur straight in the face.
"I can't Arthur. I can't freaking relax. It's impossible. I don't care about how much time has past, because it doesn't matter. All that matters is…" his voice dropped off.
Arthur still remained silent. He would love to say something, oh yes, he would love to promptAmericainto more words, but for once, he held his tongue. He was right to.
"I don't care that there haven't been any huge attacks since 9/11. I care about the small ones, because it means that we still have enemies. Cowardly, #!*% enemies. My people are still in danger, you know? And its hard, because I'm scared I won't be able to protect them."
Alfred placed the cup on the table.
"I'm supposed to be the hero, you know? I put on the mask in front of other countries, the persona they expect me to see. But…I feel totally different inside." Alfred lowered his head,Nantucketstaring to droop.
"Heh…story of my life…" Arthur murmured, and when Alfred looked up at him questioningly, he waved him off, and waited for him to continue.
"And then I wonder, if I can't protect my people without mistakes, then how…how can I protect my brothers?"
"Arthur's head jerked up at this.
"I mean, I'm not as worried about Matthew, because he's barely had any problems at all with any of this. Probably cause he can turn invisible." Alfred chuckled. "But… #!*% , Artie, they attack you almost as much as they do me! I didn't want you dragged into my problems!"
"Alfred, you know I can take care of myself-"
"Yeah, yeah, you tell me that all the time."
"And you know it's true."
Alfred fell back into his chair, letting out a pent-up sigh. Arthur looked hard at him.
"Look. You know it's not your job to protect me. You of all people should know I've been through worse than these attacks-"
"That doesn't make it any better."
"I didn't say it would. I just mean that-"
"And I know what you mean."
Arthur sat back in a huff.
"You know, you could bloody stop cutting me off all the time just when I get going."
Alfred just erupted into one of his old grins. "It's funner that way."
Arthur picked up his tea again, though it had gone cold. He was smiling, even though his ears were burning with Alfred's butchering of his language, as he kindly saw fit not to mention it. Alfred leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded together.
"Can't we just go back to me watching your back more than I need to and you pretending to be oblivious to any action of mine?" he said more to himself than Arthur. The Brit stood up to take the cold tea and coffee in to the kitchen, but stopped next to his brother, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"Alfred, you're doing the best you can. People can't complain about that. So don't beat yourself up about the things you can't do, when you've already bloody done so much."
Arthur left Alfred sitting there as he went into the kitchen, Alfred was still sitting there when Arthur went to the second floor to get ready for bed. Arthur knew better than to disturb him.
At 9:00, Arthur was sitting comfortably in his bed, one last cup of tea on his bedside table and 'Sherlock Holmes' in his hands. From his room, he had heard Alfred turning on water and moving about, which was a good sign. Arthur looked thoughtfully at his back, then reaching for a book mark, he set it aside. A click, and the lights went out, and Arthur drew the blankets up around him.
After a few minutes for lying in darkness, the pressure shifted in his bed, the covers opened up and closed just as fast. Alfred scootched over, and wrapped his arms around his brother's torso, pillowing his head on his shoulder.
"Artie…I'm sorry."
"I don't know what for, but alright."
Alfred's arms grew tighter, and Arthur grinned a hidden smile in the darkness, before letting his eyes drift shut.
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:
Like I said, I'll think of something fluffy...this one kind of was, well, this chapter anyway. The Angsty stuff comes later, no worries about that.
I love reviews, and if I'm doing a good job, or even a bad job, do tell me...I appreciate it more than you know. And also, I like waking up to my inbox screaming, "YOU HAVE 12 NEW MESSAGES, FANG! READ THEM NOW!"
...Ok, no, it doesn't do that, but it should...
-Fang