Letting out a soft sigh he moved forward, his loafers a shade darker than they were this morning from the rain. Each step he took made a faint squelching sound, and his feet hit the ground with a squish. He winced and tried not to think about his once pristine loafers becoming a slimey article for his feet. Green eyes shone forward through the rain, as though it was not even there. Being as used to it as he was it might as well not have been, though his wet clothing did agitate him a bit.

He shook out his umbrella, and let it lean against worn brickwork as he searched his pockets for his key. A faint jingle alerted him of the gold piece of metal's whereabouts. He pushed in the old oak door, and set his briefcase on a small table, toeing off his soggy wet shoes, and leaving them next to the door. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up, hoping that the silky fabric from the inside of the coat would not be damaged from the rain.

To many his life would seem boring. Day after day, getting up early and going to work, then sloshing home in the rain only to resume work and read before heading off to bed, or simply nodding off in the process. But, it wasn't really all that boring. Actually, he would call his life quite a hectic thing. Flitting in and out of meeting rooms all day, and nearly avoiding killing, and getting killed by his "acquaintances".

His responsibilities outweighed many, though he may try to be humble about it he often found that he would end up complaining about it to himself. It was nice to be able to leave work, and go back to his quiet, quaint little victorian home. His home was a safe haven that offered him peace and quiet. A place to actually complete work, and to relax. And despite popular belief he did actually watch a bit of television. Starting with Doctor who, and Sherlock, and sometimes even ending with some kind of anime, or American TV show like House.

He wasn't completely old fashioned, though he appeared so to others. Outside of work he would often wear t-shirts and skinny jeans. Once again it was something that, despite popular belief, he did. He did change with the rest of the world, like most people, and his small figure often allowed the styles of this time to suit him, though he never would be able to wear boy shorts, as they completely swallowed him up.

There were certainly upsides, and downsides to being his size. He was about 160" or 5'3, and he was fairly small around the waist...and everywhere else. He was often made fun of for his size, but he tended to have the advantage in fights, spying, and he was fairly good at gymnastics, and dancing. Because of his small size it was often hard to find pants that were the right size, which led to his often wearing boots, or high top trainers.

He was also often made fun of for his rather...dark eyebrows. In his opinion they really weren't all that bad, but apparently they stuck out amongst his emerald eyes, and golden blonde hair. Despite his outward flaws, and his temper, and "grumpiness", many people complimented his figure, which he tried his best to ignore, and his voice. Frequently, outside of his country, he found himself receiving compliments on his "accent", and smooth tone.

A small smile came to his face as his scottish fold, Aldwin, weaved himself in between his legs. Quite a few people questioned the naming of his cat, but he thought that it was quite a fitting name as in old english it means an old, wise friend. He clicked his tongue, and lead his hand behind himself, basically telling Aldwin to follow him.

He let out a sigh and sat down on a crimson couch, the scottish fold jumping up, and making a bed of his lap. Often he had actually thought of changing the cat's name since he hardly actually called him Aldwin, rather settling for Win, which often led to him accidently calling the cat Winston…

Shaking his head he turned on the TV, and switched it over to netflix where he searched for Doctor Who season 5. He had been watching all of the newer seasons over, and had only barely gotten over the pain of losing the 10th doctor, David Tennant. He found his episode and pressed play, settling back into the couch, and rubbing Win's ears.

He nearly fell asleep towards the end of the episode, and reprimanded himself for almost nodding off during such an important episode. He blinked a few times to clear his slightly blurry vision, and decided that this would be the opportune time to make some tea.

He gently slid Aldwin off of his lap, and got up, walking over to his small yet open kitchen. He inhaled, breathing in the soft ginger cinnamon scent that lingered in the room. It smelled sweet...like home. His lips twitched up into a smile as he took out some Earl Grey tea. It may be a bit stereotypical, but don't blame him for liking rich, and strong flavours. He set his kettle on a burner, and walked over to his big cupboard. It was a small secret of his that he had quite the sweet tooth. He really couldn't help his attraction to most any kind of sweet. He pulled out a small jar of biscuits, and placed a couple on the edge of his saucer.

Looking up and down a small red box caught his eye. He looked around as if there was someone there that was going to catch him, and quickly pulled out the box. He was acting so childish in that moment as he snuck a piece of chocolate, what would others think if they saw him acting like this. Surely they would laugh. Though, some would just find it cute. A faint blush came to his cheeks, as he put the chocolates back, and closed the door. Yes, some would find it cute...like…His kettle whistled bringing him out of his thoughts.

He walked back over to the stove, and poured the boiling water into his tea pot, letting the leaves steep. But, that only gave him time to think about more things that he really didn't want to be thinking about. He leaned forward, and rested his forehead on the bottom of his cool cabinets. Don't think about them, don't think about that, don't think about him. I'm supposed to be mad at him. Why can't I stay mad at him!

Of course, he knew exactly why he couldn't, but he chose to ignore that, and went ahead and poured himself some slightly steeped tea. He made his way back to the living room area quickly, and sat down, Win following him.

"Just don't think about it, it's not that bloody hard! You had another fight so what!? …And you're talking to yourself...brilliant…" He muttered.

"Mraaw" Aldwin jumped up on the couch, seeking attention.

"Right, right. You master could go completely insane for all you care, as long as you get attention right?" He scratched behind the fold's small orange ears.

"Mraaaaaa"

He looked up just in time to get a face full of fur. Reaching up, he pried the cream coloured ball of fluff off of his face.

"Hero?"

The fluffy mixed breed cat, though his owner insisted he was a maine coon, looking up at him with bright blue eyes. He rolled his own eyes, and ran his hand down the cats back.

"What are you doing here?"

Hero just purred and made himself at home on his lap, which seemed to irk Aldwin just a bit.

"He's here with me." A smooth accented voice called out as he walked into the room. Emerald met sky blue.

"Ah...well..."

"Come on." The other male walked closer.

He shot a glare into those bright blue eyes.

"It was just a little fight. We have those all the time right?" The honey blond gave him a small smile. "It's in our blood. Pride. It makes us fight with each other.

The other sat down next to him, but he turned away.

The male sighed. "Everyone fights, because no one's perfect…"

"Stop being…"deep" for the lack of a better word." He turned slightly. "I'm trying to be mad at you."

The other blond grinned. "And how is that working out for you?"

"Not all that well…" He mumbled.

"Well good, because I really wanted to spend some time with you this week."

He looked away again, hoping to brush off some of his embarrassment. He focused on a painting featuring a forest, and a small red fox wandering to the edge of a cliff.

"Arthur?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry."

Well that got his attention. Looking back into those sky blue eyes with his own slightly surprised ones.

"Excuse me?"

He smiled slightly. "You heard me. I said that I was sorry. You know why?"

He gave the other a funny look. "Because you've gone absolutely bonkers?"

The honey blonde laughed. "No." He tilted his head just a bit, a small smile on his tanned face.

He shrugged at the other nonchalantly, and was rewarded with a small huff.

The other, regaining his focus rather quickly for the kind of person he was, shook his head, and regained his smile.

"Because I love you."

No matter how many times he heard the other say that he could never get over it. He could never get over the fact that he, of all people, was saying it, and that it was being said to him. Those three little words that seemed to hold the world and more. Now, he didn't necessarily believe in love itself, but there was something aboutsomeone else saying it to him that he just couldn't help but like.

His cheeks dusted a faint pink, and he bit his lips for a moment before realising how it may have looked to the other, and releasing his lip. And then his boyfriend of 73 years leaned over and kissed him.

...

He sighed. Why would I let him do that? He always does that. He always gets the better of me. It's like his attitude is contagious, God knows his smile is. Maybe it's because of his bright attitude. Perhaps it rubbed off on me. Or maybe it's just his eyes. The way that they shine when he really means something. The bright blue that they turn when he's excited or happy. The dark blue that they turn when he is serious. The searing blue they turn when he is mad, or the faded blue they turn when he is sad. Maybe it's his smile, which is so very contagious. His gleaming teeth, and dimples. A grin stretching across his face, one that lights up a room, or a small sincere smile that seems to put a halo around his face.

Of course I know what it really is. His lips twitched up at the sides, in a small smile. He slowly opened his eyes, connecting them with a bright sky blue. He was smiling right back. Of course he knew. He had known since the boy was just starting out. He had known since that fateful day he had stood on a ship back to his homeland, staring at what was no longer his. Oh he had known. He had desperately hoped for it to be something else, but hoping can only do so much. It was so small then, but it had certainly grown with time, just as the boy had done. It hit him with full force during one war. A war scarring to the world in many different ways.

Hello readers~

This is just a little thing that I started that may have begun to spiral a bit.

Anyway, this story explores the past individually from both Arthur, and Alfred's point of view. Most of it will take part in their heads.

I hope you enjoyed the start, and will (hopefully) continue to enjoy the story!