Oliver swings his legs gently underneath the table, his feet crossed at the ankle. He's doing his golly gosh hardest to not hum aloud. He's just trying to be happy. It's been so long in his opinion since they've had an all country meeting. He loves them. It's so nice to get everyone together and have meetings and talk and just figure things out. It's five days of meetings, a whole week of which he and the others get to spend in the other world. Oh does he love the other world. It's so nice here and the other America is so sweet to let them stay. The trip to and from the worlds make him a little queasy but nothing a quick snack won't fix.
He bites his lip as he almost lets out the first note to a random tune with no name. He draws a few squiggles on his paper and looks up to the speakers. He pouts a little. Oh he really does wish Francois, the France from his world, would smile sometimes. He'd be so much more friendlier if he didn't scowl day in and day out. Oliver is struck with a spike of worry. He honestly hopes Francois is making friends in this world. Oliver taps his pen to his lips. Scowling reminds him of something. He peeks to the nation sitting beside him shyly.
Arthur is leaning over the desk taking notes, glancing up every so often to the Frances speaking on about the monetary issues going around Europe. Oliver represses his urge to sigh like some lovesick schoolboy and watch Arthur. He snaps his head back to his own paper. He admires Arthur a lot truly. His other is strong and smart and always in control. He peeks once more out of the side of his eye. Arthur is glaring at the front of the room. Oliver's smile slips just a little.
He remembers clearly how they all got into this situation. They had been in the middle of a meeting in their own world. Oliver dare say he felt it coming. In the middle of Luciano speaking he felt a deep tremor in his body making him shake. Francois noticed. He almost asked about it, when an explosive sound came from the doorway. The room changed on them, Oliver felt a pulling sensation. The nations around him jumped from their seats. A crowd of people stood in front of them, screaming on their own. Oliver didn't want to fight. He felt on instinct to do so. He had a knife in his hand before he could think.
He remembers staying right by Francois, swiveling around anxiously trying to find his boys. More yelling came and then suddenly everyone froze with Luciano screaming out for everyone to stop. They all backed away from each other instinctively. Oliver let out a sigh of relief at seeing Matt and Al unharmed. He didn't know what he would do if they got hurt. He turned his gaze back to Luciano on a table, a new person next to him, holding the bridge of their nose with a pained expression. Oliver hoped they hadn't been hurt.
"Ah shit," the person said. Oliver cringed. Oh how he hated swearing. He had to hear it enough when he visited Al. The person removed their hand and a few people around him gasped. The person looked like him, vaguely, but his eyes stopped Oliver's breathing with their bold color.
"I have accidentally opened a portal to another world," He said with a grimace. A few people snickered. Oliver gulped. Francois elbowed him. It did nothing to stop his gaze from the person. After saying there are now two of them, Luciano suggested finding their other selves. Oliver didn't listen as Francois tried to bring him a different direction. He weaved through the crowd right to the grumbling man with gorgeous eyes.
"Ugh bollocks," They whispered to themselves, climbing down from the table, and pinching the bridge of their nose once more. Oliver cringed again, letting out a soft displeased moan.
"Oh I really wish you wouldn't swear, it's quite unbecoming." He said with a simple nod of his head. He smiled brightly when the stranger's eyes landed on him. He held out his hand with a bubbly giggle.
"My name is Oliver, it's so nice to meet you," He couldn't stop the smiling. He couldn't. The stranger who looks like him dragged their eyes up and down him judgmentally. Eventually they sighed and shook his hand.
"Arthur," He said plainly. Oliver smiled wider.
"Oh this is so exciting," He said clapping his hands together. Arthur let out an exasperated sigh, putting his face in his hands. Oliver stared wide eyed. Is Arthur okay? He hoped so. He reached out a hand to comfort his new friend when Francois came over with a smiling man who looked better trimmed than Francois ever did in his whole life. Oliver made quick friends with Francis, the other France. He definitely made more of an attempt to talk to him than Francois did that's for sure. Arthur just groaned in pain.
Oliver glances over to Arthur again. He really likes his other half. Then again, there is very little Oliver doesn't like. He has some problems with his own freckles. He rubs unconsciously at his face. There's just something about them that he doesn't entirely like. Arthur's face is freckle free. He shakes his head quickly. Once or twice before he's caught himself thinking it would be better if he acted more like Arthur. He has to love himself dang it. He sighs. There's a huff from besides him.
Oliver jerks in his seat at the noise, turning his head slowly to face his other. Arthur is glaring harder at the front of the room. Oliver smiles sadly, going back to writing his own notes. Every so often drawing a squiggle, and when he feels adventurous a cupcake. Okay, so maybe he more than really likes his other half.
Of course there are times where he can't stand Arthur. The huffy 'gentleman' has a terrible problem with foul language. Oliver tries to block it out the best he can but sometimes he just has to put his foot down and demand money to be put in the jar. Arthur will give him annoyed looks, but he always puts a quarter in to satisfy Oliver's nagging. It's not nearly as much as he should be putting in, but Oliver will let it slide since he did listen.
Right now he's confused more than ever. He loves Arthur, truly and utterly. A big part of him however, is downright furious at his other. During their last round of meetings, Arthur flat out insisted that his son Alfred is the better one between the two Americas. Now that just hadn't been fair. Arthur had already been in a bitter mood that whole week, but that didn't excuse his actions. He hurt Al, Oliver wanted to defend him. Though he may have accidentally made it worse. He started tearing up when Al tried to lunge at Arthur. A small resentful part of him knew Arthur deserved it. He knew Arthur felt he had won that argument. It's not Oliver's fault he can't say his words the right way. He had been so angry that day. Francis knocked sense into both their heads.
Oliver apologized profusely to Al after words. His son deserved every ounce of his love and trying. Al waved it off and said he was used to it, but Oliver still felt bad. He supposes he had that coming. Now though, no matter how many times he tells himself to get over it, he's still angry and upset at Arthur for causing that expression on his precious child. How dare he treat him so unfairly. Oliver is nothing but sweet to his boys and this is the treatment they get in return. It just doesn't sit right in his tummy.
He wishes he could get Arthur to smile. He wishes he could get Arthur to realize he doesn't have to be angry at whatever ails him. He just wants him to be happy. It hurts him to see his other so upset, but he knows he can't do anything. If not for the blatant crude words from Arthur, it's everything else. Oliver wipes at his face to make sure there are no tears coming down. He puffs up his cheeks, mentally telling himself to be strong.
The meeting is called and Oliver instantly begins to hum like he's been wanting to the whole day. It's a small protective measure to keep himself happy. He takes his time packing up, no use wasting a marvelous day with speed. He fumbles with his bow tie just a little, making it look better before he takes his briefcase and heads outside. His face twists up with puzzlement at Francis shoving Arthur his way.
"Hello Arthur, wonderful afternoon yes?" He says once his other half gets closer. His tone isn't fake or forced, he's always genuinely happy to talk to Arthur. He just wishes he could sound upset to show his other how much he's still hurting, not that Arthur would do anything about it. Arthur's eyebrows furrow together with his typical scowl on his face. There's a soft blush on his face. Oliver thinks it's adorable despite his deep seated anger.
"I was wondering," Arthur starts, completely ignoring Oliver's question. The bubbly Englishman doesn't mind. He steps in the direction of the hotel and Arthur walks beside him.
"There's this, restaurant down the street, and-" Arthur cuts off his words with a groan. Oliver blinks at him. Is Arthur okay? He hopes his other half isn't sick. That would be bad new for all of them he's sure.
"Would you like to go and get dinner.. With me?" Arthur still isn't looking at him. He's glaring at ground looking for the world uncomfortable. Oliver's eyes light up.
"Oh I would love to, that'd be so nice. Oh can we?" He asks excitedly letting his true happiness come through. Arthur relaxes, standing up straighter. Oliver thinks he's very handsome. Then he wonders if that's narcissistic. Oh he hopes not. Arthur tells him they should head there in about an hour to get some time to change and relax. He tells Oliver that he will stop by his room so they can walk together. Oliver giggles. Maybe he can talk to Arthur about last time and clear up his feelings.
The walk to the restaurant is filled with Oliver's chatter. He doesn't mind talking for the both of them. Arthur has a smile wanting to twitch itself into existence, so Oliver figures he must be enjoying himself. At least a little. When they get to the diner Arthur handles all the people and Oliver is giggling beside himself. Arthur is so cool and collected. Oliver can't help it.
Dinner is wonderful in his opinion. The service is sweet and the food is phenomenal though he knows he could probably make it better. There's no harm in splurging and letting others cook for you. Arthur talks very little, his words slightly forced. He does smile at Oliver every so often, so Oliver will overlook his tone earlier that day. Often times Arthur will grumble something incoherent and glare at him. Right now Oliver is over the top smitten with the attitude he is receiving.
It doesn't last long. Dinner turns sour when Oliver brings up the last meetings. Arthur's slight happy moods drops and he stands abruptly, not letting Oliver explain himself or his words or anything really. Oliver stares at the table sadly, wondering what he could possibly do to make Arthur smile again, though a dark part of him thinks it'll never be him to make Arthur smile. He puts his head in his hands and takes a deep breath.
He wants Arthur to be happy, but he knows he needs to talk about his feelings of anger. Bad things tend to happen when he lets his anger sit and fester. He plasters a smile back on his face and exits the diner, paying as he does so. Tomorrow will be better he tells himself. Tomorrow will be better.
AN: The first chapter to the fifth story in Infatuation, hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Hetalia ain't no belong to me