New story! Very excited.

I hope you enjoy it. Based sort of off of those soul mate things, but with a twist.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hetalia franchise

A Snap of Color

"The purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love color the most."

―John Ruskin, The Stones of Venice

Alfred had sat through countless 'soul mate' classes. They were very boring things, surely created to send their attendees straight to sleep. The teacher was generally a drab character that bragged on and on and on about the absolute brilliance of the colored world, how one can see different hues, how one finds colors around every corner. Honestly, Alfred wasn't sure whom these people thought they were helping here. It certainly wasn't the students, as Alfred could vouch for a solid majority of them. They were all disgusted with the class.

However, as Alfred discovered rather quickly, that was an opinion that only remained shared in middle school; the 'cootie' years. Of course, once everyone graduated into high school, the tables turned.

Alfred glared daggers at the self-righteous little asshole that was sitting a couple seats over from him. He was crowing about the moment when he'd met his soul mate, how his eyes were "such a breathtaking teal."

Personally, Alfred didn't really know what the hell teal was, presumably a color, but either way, the dude needed to shut up.

Finally, the teacher was kind enough to interrupt him. By now, the majority of the class had somehow managed to find their soul mates. They were seniors at Gakuen High School, and Alfred was one of the only souls unfortunate enough to have not found his other half yet.

Not for the first time, he'd wondered if he even had another half; but he'd heard of kids who were born into a world of color, and he'd heard of how they didn't need a romantic other to complete their world for them. There was no way he was like them, because he still saw in black-and-white.

Sighing, he picked at a loose thread on his gray and black plaid uniform pants as the teacher prattled on with the lesson. Really, there was no point for the other students to be there, as they had already found their soul mates, and this little lesson was very clearly targeted at the two people who still had yet to find their other halves. Coincidentally, it was Alfred and his brother Matthew.

"As Sadik was just explaining, you will know your soul mate because their eyes will be the first color you will ever see," stated the teacher redundantly, as if Alfred hadn't just sat through twenty minutes of Sadik chattering away about Hercules.

"However, in order to see everything else with the same brilliant color as your significant other's eyes, you two must get to know one another. You must fall in love."

Alfred shifted uncomfortably at the sighs that emanated from some of the more affectionate people in the room.

Why the hell were they here again?

The lesson resumed, something about safe sex and how some people weren't born into the black-and-white worlds that everyone else was.

By the time it all came to a much-awaited close, Alfred's face was hiding in his forearms, which were stretched out on the desk in front of him. The teacher had tried to call him out in class and ask where he thought his soul mate could be found, but Alfred remained as unhelpful as he could possibly be.

The odds weren't entirely against him, though. The school was based in New York, and everyone knew that NY wasn't exactly a tiny town in the middle of Idaho. At this rate, and with the amount of people Alfred came in contact with everyday, he really ought to have found his soul mate. Nearly everyone else in the senior class had.

But alas, it wasn't to be. Alfred graduated high school with a diploma but no soul mate. Even Mattie found his other half. It was at the end of the school year, and he and Alfred were walking back from another miserable day, each with a cup of gelato in their hands.

Alfred had been talking really enthusiastically about the the newest discovery in regards to mitosis; he could remember it very clearly. It was the day that he'd lost his twinship with his brother, after all. Because now, by all rights, they were no longer the same. Matthew lived in a different world than he did, and that was just life. "C'est la vie," as Francis, Mattie's soul mate, would say.

Alfred found Francis irritating, but he valued how the man had changed Matthew, so he never really spoke up against the Frenchman's presence. It was fairly obvious how happy he made Mattie, though their first meeting was awkward.

Matthew had dropped his gelato on the guy, as he had tripped on a not-so-stable brick, and the Italian dessert had flown rather fantastically out of his hands and face down on Francis's designer shirt.

Alfred could remember the dread washing over him, his mind immediately launching into cost calculations for the shirt. Francis looked like one of those nasty, snooty rich kids that Alfred had always abhorred.

But the Frenchman surprised both of the twins, as he laughed and offered a hand to help Matthew get to his feet. Alfred's Canadian twin still hadn't looked up from the asphalt of the sidewalk, completely red in his mortification. When he did, however, it wasn't Matthew who was yanked up to Francis's height, but Francis who fell to Matthew's.

And then it got really awkward, as the French dude unashamedly kissed Alfred's twin brother. Which meant, rather obviously, that Francis was Matthew's soul mate. Kissing random people on the sidewalk wasn't a common practice, unless there was a particularly obvious reason.

Alfred wanted to feel happy for his brother, he really did. But it's hard to be un-selfishly happy for someone. Human nature inclines people towards jealousy. Alfred wanted a soul mate, goddammit.

Francis was quick to snuggle up to Matthew—not that the French Canadian put up all that much resistance—and Alfred was left to his own devices for a good few weeks after graduation. He was due to head off to King's College in London, England on a scholarship by the end of the summer. How the hell he got in, Alfred would never be able to tell you, but he was majoring in Genetics.

Science was kind of his thing. He wasn't great with language arts, not being "eloquent enough" as his teachers had so generously told him. Math was a strong point as well, though he wasn't as good as some. It was generally best not to bring up his musical schools (they were nonexistent) but he was average at art, capable of sketching out some solid things if he really set himself to it.

Matthew was the writer. He was going to Concordia University in Montreal at the end of the summer. Francis was already enrolled in a University back in France, though he was quickly making arrangements to switch over to Matthew's school.

Go figure it would be Mattie, the shy, quiet one, who went for the Creative Arts Major. It made sense, though; Mattie was the bookish type.

When Alfred asked Francis what the guy was majoring in, the man just waved him off.

"That is not your concern," he spoke, his thick French accent marring the words in a really annoying manner. Alfred grumbled and chose to leave the two alone for the day, grabbing his wallet on the way out of the flat that he, Mattie, and now Francis paid for.

His and Mattie's parents had divorced when the two were younger. Alfred was stuck with his mom, Matthew with his dad. That was part of why their last names were different, as Alfred had opted to take his Mother's maiden name, and Matthew stuck with their father's last name. Then a quick conference call between the two parents at the end of eighth grade had both Alfred and Matthew moving to New York to attend Gakuen High School so that they could bond. It used to be that their parents would visit the twins on stacked weekends, but gradually both visiting times grew shorter and sparser. By the end of sophomore year, the two were on their own. By the end of junior year, no more money was rolling in to pay for the apartment that they were inhabiting.

Alfred and Matthew were forced to get jobs. Matthew signed on to a small magazine that Alfred didn't even know the name of. He got a good amount of money off of it, and he sent in stories for a small sum to the newspapers.

Alfred was a waiter at a local restaurant. It was a pretty intense one, and he was mainly hired because of his looks and his smile, but whatever brought in the money.

Luckily for both of the siblings, it was their off day, a Sunday. Alfred moved along the bustling streets of New York City, not for the first time feeling like he was really not that important in the greater scheme of things. The people milled around him, only as complex as gray and white and black. Their hair was pulled up in varying styles, or let loose in stranger ones. Clothes, for the locals, were supremely uncomfortable but fashionable. It was always easy to pick out the tourist. They were always the ones wearing gym shoes, with cameras around their necks and a map in their hands.

Alfred's burning curiosity had always wondered what his brother's hair color was. He couldn't help it, really, as he was a scientist and absolutely hated not knowing the answers to things that other people did. Matthew's hair was probably something lighter, as the way Alfred saw him, the boy's hair varied more towards white than black. Same with Francis's. Alfred's, or at least whenever he looked in the mirror, was roughly the same gray color as Mattie's. They're eyes were slightly different, though. Mattie had darker gray eyes. Alfred and Francis's were lighter shades.

Yawning, Alfred stepped off of the white sidewalk and into the Starbuck's to his right. It was packed, as was usual, and the line curved just at the door, forcing Alfred to shift his body to the right so he could squeeze between the door and the people already in line.

While he was waiting, his phone rang. Glancing down at the screen, a small smile ghosted Al's face.

It was Ivan.

Alfred and Ivan used to date, and it was pretty awesome while it lasted. But unfortunately, some differences are too grand to overcome, and so they broke up. Really, it was also the fact that they both had soul mates to find, and so they both were well aware of the fact that they were kind of cheating on their other halves, even though they didn't directly know them.

Alfred answered his phone, glaring at the woman who was taking more than two minutes to order because she wasn't quite sure what a frappucino was.

"Yo," said Al, his old iPhone 4 held steadily to his ear, squinting his eyes to look at the chalk board hanging above the counter along the back wall. The gray and black and white world was blurry for him sometimes, reminding him that glasses wouldn't exactly be a terrible idea.

"Privet," responded Ivan, saying a hello in his own Russian language. Alfred was used to that quirk. "Where are you?"

"Er, dude, why do you wanna know?" Alfred was getting a little distracted as he saw a particularly attractive young woman walk past him, her light gray hair dancing with the lighter sunrays that floated through the window. She was wearing a cluster of flowers in her hair that were an even lighter hue than the strands. But before he could seriously consider getting her number, a white-haired dude sidled up behind her and placed a possessive hand on her left hip as they went to the end of the line. Alfred quickly got over his disappointment.

"Because I want to see you," was Ivan's response. Alfred huffed and blew some air out of the corner of his mouth, one cheek bulging.

"Do you have to see me right now?"

"It's important," Alfred could practically see Ivan shrugging his shoulders. A moment of deliberation had Alfred deciding to meet Ivan somewhere other than a Starbucks.

"Sure, meet me in thirty minutes by the carousel in Central Park."

"Korosho," and then they both hung up. Alfred slid his cell into the back pocket of his jeans, a huge grin beaming through his teeth as he reached the front of the line.

"Thank God! Yeah, I'll have a venti coffee." He needed the caffeine.

Sidling along the walkways of Central Park, Alfred watched the children dance in the gray and white shade. They were laughing, and a ball was being thrown amongst the three of them until a girl randomly tackled one of the boys in the group and the entire organized huddle erupted into one mass exodus of flailing limbs and kicking feet. It was all in good fun, as could be distinguished by the playful laughter emanating from the writhing mass.

Alfred took care to skirt them, as he didn't want to become a casualty of the war.

Their parents, living in their colored worlds, smiled happily at their exuberant children. Couples that were a good deal younger than the parental figures made their own ways past the squabbling kids, both halves of their pairs cooing at the young children.

Alfred didn't know if those couples were just temporary or the pairing that one is supposed to be stuck in forever, but either way, he was jealous.

He was so caught up in his own mind that he was completely unaware of the guy barreling towards him into they were both knocked to the ground, the man staring down at Alfred with his palms on the sidewalk on each side of Alfred's head and with Alfred lying on his back, quite shocked, beneath him. Al's coffee had gone flying into the grass, the gray strands absorbing the white cup in their touches. He was rather upset about that, Starbucks coffee isn't exactly cheap you know.

Before he could bite this random dude's head off, however, he saw the man's eyes.

They weren't gray. Their color was sharp, focused, intelligent. It demanded attention, and all of it, and it clung to Alfred's retinas. Al was never, ever, ever going to forget those eyes, how they looked at him in that moment. The strange comfort Alfred took in being underneath this random stranger he'd knocked into on the sidewalk.

The other guy seemed to be just as stunned as his American counterpart. His mouth was working open and closed in a confused sort of shock, the rush of the earlier minutes appearing to have been forgotten. Apparently finding your soul mate always took the top priority.

"I'm Arthur," said the guy suddenly, a British flavor to his words. He still wasn't budging from his position atop Alfred.

"Alfred. Er, do you mind getting off of me?" Alfred asked hesitantly, hoping to God that the man wouldn't take offense and flee the scene. He didn't want to see those eyes go away. They were so gorgeous, and electrifying, and different.

They weren't gray.

Al's voice caught in his throat after the man flushed and nodded rushedly, pushing himself off of Alfred before standing and offering Al a hand.

Alfred took it, using Arthur's surprising strength to help propel himself off of the pavement.

"I… er… You're…"

"Yes, I'm aware," said Arthur, a small, nervous smile on his lips. This innocent quirk of the lips offset the sharp wit and mischief that could be read into his eyes.

Alfred was dying to know what color to apply to them. He'd heard of all of the colors before, his teachers had explained them in junior year when the majority of the grade was finding their soul mates. It had made sense at the time, but of course, Alfred wouldn't be able to actually know what the fuck green was if he didn't fucking know what it looked like.

"We should get to know one another, shouldn't we?"

Alfred laughed loudly, a nervous tick that his brother Matthew always found annoying. The bold color of those eyes was keeping his own gaze riveted on Arthur's face, distracting him enough so that he didn't notice his phone was ringing until the other pointed it out.

Alfred's heart dropped. Why did Ivan have to call him again? Why did he agree to meeting his ex-boyfriend?

"Er, yeah, just one minute, please don't go," said Alfred, his speech garbled. His phone was quickly fumbled out of his pocket and pressed to his ear.

"Ivan, hi, yeah sorry. I'm just a little late. I promise I'll be there within the next ten minutes."

Before Ivan could say anything in response, Alfred hung up the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket.

"Who's Ivan?" asked Arthur.

"Er, no one important. Just a friend."

The height of one of the other man's bushy eyebrows let Alfred know that he was not very convincing.

"Whatever, dude. Come with me to meet him, then we can go somewhere and get along, alright?"

Arthur couldn't help but to notice how crass his soul mate was, a trait that he found both endearing and irritating. The guy was treating this whole business like it was easy as one, two, three. Well, Arthur would be sure to knock the arrogant young man down a peg or two.

By the time they made it to the carousel, Alfred was more than just a couple of minutes late. But, he knew it wouldn't be a problem. Ivan had past experience with Alfred's clock, and he was no doubt well aware that it ran at least ten minutes behind everyone else's.

Ivan was easy to pick out. He was a good deal taller than the four-foot high children swarming around his feet. Somehow he was wearing a light gray coat that went all the way down to his ankles. Black boots peeked out from the bottom of it, a white scarf clung about his neck. His wispy, near-white hair swooped across his forehead, looking as soft as it felt, his skin an intensely light gray. A gentle smile was on his lips as his eyes beamed at Alfred. They were the same color as Mattie's.

"Hello," he said, for once choosing to speak English at the start of his sentence instead of the normal Russian.

"Yo!" chirped Alfred, though he was more than awkward. What the hell was he supposed to say to his old boyfriend? Nice to see you? How's your love life?

"Who is your friend?" asked Ivan, beaming rather creepily at Arthur. The British man glowered in return, automatically on the defensive because of the strangeness of the entire situation. Why the hell was he stuck with this duffer?

Peeking out of the corner of his eye at Alfred, Arthur had to fist his hands to keep from pushing that tendril of hair that was sticking out from the rest of Alfred's head back. The boy's brilliant, sparkling eyes were clear and lovely and innocent.

Oh, the things Arthur could do to ruin that innocence. It was atrocious, really, the thoughts going through his head.

"Oh, his name's Arthur. I just met him, and yeah."

Why the hell wasn't Alfred mentioning that they were soul mates? Was there something to be ashamed about?

Arthur's eyes narrowed, suspicion working into his thought process.

Were Alfred and Ivan dating?

"Hello Arthur, I am Ivan. It's nice to meet you," Ivan held out one giant gloved hand, his Russian accent making the words sound way more nasally than they were supposed to sound. Arthur grudgingly shook his hand.

Asshole.

Alfred could feel the irritation radiating off of his British companion.

"Right, so why did you want to meet, Ivan?" asked Al, eager to rush their conversation so he could get Arthur away from the Russian.

"I miss you," was the simple response. A soft smile touched Alfred's face then, affection engulfing his previous frustration. To be completely honest, he missed Ivan too. The guy was his first boyfriend, and they'd had some pretty good times together.

"I knew you'd miss my mad driving skills!" crowed the American, trying to play off his surprise through loud, obnoxious actions. Unfortunately for him, Ivan knew him too well. It was obvious that he was aiming for a cover-up, and he was not going to succeed.

Arthur groaned as the conversation immediately dissolved into something that was filled with more memories than actual current events. There was something about a BB gun thrown from Al's lips, and Arthur didn't even bother to listen to Ivan's response. He didn't like the big Russian, more because they guy was closer with Alfred than he was, but all the same.

Alfred was his soul mate, goddammit.

By the time he got to the end of his tether, the conversation was drawing to a close anyway. Alfred was agreeing to a lunch with Ivan when Arthur finally decided that enough was enough.

"If you don't mind my intervening, Ivan," he spat, stepping in front of Alfred and pushing an oblivious and slightly confused American kid out of the way, he glared daggers at the taller Russian. "I would like to say that Alfred and I are soul mates, so don't start thinking that you have a right to make a move on him, understand? Find your own color to pursue." He continued glaring until Ivan raised his hands and reassured the Briton that he had no intentions of sweeping Alfred off of his feet for a second time.

That was irksome, but Arthur made no complaint. "Brilliant. We'll be on our way, it was lovely meeting you."

He began to walk off, dragging the annoyed Alfred behind him. When they got a far enough distance, he let the other man's hand go and turned around, his expression akin to that of annoyance. "Is there anyone else that you dated that I should know about? Can I trust you to even be loyal? My God, you really aren't supposed to even date anyone but your fucking soul mate." His arms were crossed in front of him, his voice waspish. Alfred stood tall, pissing Arthur off even more. The guy just did not know the meaning to the words 'shame' and 'penitence.'

"Dude, I don't have to explain myself to you, we don't even know each other! The only thing I know about you is your name, and that you're my other half. Don't even think that you 'own' me because you don't. And are you telling me that you never dated anyone before you met me?" At the straight face that Arthur kept, Alfred was disconcerted. Jesus, the guy had a hell of a poker face. "Right? You didn't, right?"

Now Alfred was beginning to take the same possessive tone as Arthur had not a minute or two earlier, though he wasn't aware of it.

"So what if I did? We don't even know each other," snapped Arthur, quoting Alfred's words back to him.

"But you aren't supposed to…" Alfred glared then, seeing the trap that Arthur had snared him in. He was going to have to apologize, but he sure as hell didn't want to. "I shouldn't have brought you with me to see Ivan," he grumbled after a moment of expectant silence. That smug grin on Arthur's face had Alfred wanting to punch him.

"Sorry, what did you say? I believe that I must have misheard you," said Arthur, putting two fingers behind his ear and leaning forward to demonstrate that he was hard of hearing.

Alfred childishly puffed his cheeks out before repeating himself, this time louder than before. "I shouldn't have brought you with me to see Ivan! There, are you happy?"

"You're missing a very important phrase, Alfred."

Oh, Arthur was a dick.

"I am sorry," Alfred said finally, snapping the words out with a halted willingness that was bordering on sarcastic.

Arthur was satisfied with it, however, and he beamed approvingly at his soul mate.

"Great, now that we have gotten that nasty ordeal out of the way, what say you to dinner?" Alfred was confused. Dinner? It was only 12:00. Then he realized that Arthur meant lunch, but was for some reason using an old fashioned term for it.

"Sure, but first, I want to ask someone something," he said, his eyes scanning the surrounding people before locking on an approachable-looking couple. Grabbing Arthur's hand, and ignoring the flustered protests, he spirited the man over to them.

"Hello! Sorry, can I ask you guys something?" They both nodded. "What color are his eyes?" Alfred's pointer finger swung to stand just between Arthur's eyes. The Briton slapped Al's hand away.

The couple smiled, well aware of what that question meant. "Ah, they're green. And yours are blue." With that being said, they turned back to their previous conversation, leaving Arthur with a beaming, and very self-satisfied Alfred.

"You have green eyes," said Al, twining his fingers with Arthur's in a gentler manner before beginning to stroll back to the walking path so that they could find their way out of Central Park. "They're very pretty."

Arthur smiled then, a small quirk of the lips that eased his face into a younger version of itself. It was refreshing, and Alfred took a second or two to memorize the transformation. "So where were you in a rush to earlier?"

Arthur froze then, horror arresting his face and widening his eyes. "Oh shite," he mumbled then before scrambling through his bag and quickly pressing his phone to his ear. Assumedly, the person he was calling picked up, as Arthur quickly began to talk to them.

"I'm so sorry, something came up and I-" he broke off, nodding his head and sprinkling 'yes sirs' around the uncomfortable pause on his end of the phone line.

Alfred watched the entire ordeal with a tilted head, his eyebrows furrowing a moment as he bounced on the balls of his feet. Arthur had dropped his hand in favor of searching for his phone, so Alfred chose to stuff both appendages into his pockets, as he was unsure of exactly what else he could do with them.

Arthur finally put the phone away, his face once more blank. The smile from earlier completely disappeared.

"You alright?" asked Alfred, watching the other man with a concerned interest.

Arthur shook his head and managed a wan, pathetic smile. "Chipper. Come along, we won't be going to dinner. I have things to do, and you are coming with me. I don't trust you to not go with that bloody Russian back there," and so they resumed their path, Alfred thoroughly disgruntled at Arthur's lack of faith in him and Arthur completely oblivious to the aggrieved American next to him.

Alfred hated how one had to fall in love with their soul mate in order to see the world in colors. This Arthur character was a real pain in the ass, and he seemed content to butt heads with Alfred on every single tiny, finite little issue. Honestly, Alfred was sure he would end up killing the guy before they could actually make much progress in the relationship.

But even though he didn't get to see these famed 'pinks and purples and reds and oranges,' the color of Arthur's eyes was intense, and Alfred constantly drank their green in whenever he looked at them.

They were verdant, clear, and sharp, just as their owner was. They were what he had heard associated with green: 'jealous,' 'poisonous,' 'demanding,' 'gentle.' Honestly, those eyes could have a ten page report written on them and still have to be cut short. Alfred was obsessed.

After a really confusing string of events that involved talking with a random dude on the subway, grabbing a Christmas wrapped telephone from a toy store, stopping off at a scarf shop, and collecting a strange object from what appeared to be a gun depot, Alfred's brother finally decided to check in on him.

Alfred answered the phone as he watched Arthur dig through a heap of old clothes in a souvenir shop. Apparently they took donations for the needy, though it made no sense to Alfred why Arthur would need those old things. The guy looked far from poor. Matthew's soft tone poured through the phone, making Alfred smile. He loved his brother. After a quick conversation, they both hung up.

Arthur was watching Alfred, suspicion once more hanging in his jealous green eyes. "Was that Ivan?"

"Am I not allowed to talk on the phone to anyone now!" cried Alfred, throwing his hands exasperatedly in the air. "It was my brother, if you must know. He was just wondering where I was."

Arthur scrutinized him a moment before returning to his task, leaving Alfred to pedal around the shop. There were kitschy little items all over the place, from a stars-and-stripes ski cap to boots with Obama's face printed all over them. It was rather alarming. He was startled from his terrifying findings by Arthur's hand settling on his shoulder. The Briton looked a lot less stressed out and he even managed a tiny smile.

"Right then. I suppose we should head off for some supper," he tugged Alfred out of the store, waving good-naturedly at the owner on the way out.

Alfred wanted to ask questions about the array of items that Arthur had collected over the few hours that they'd been on this erratic goose chase, but at the same time he didn't. What was that phrase his mother had always told him? Ignorance is bliss?

However, his curiosity eventually abandoned him in favor of finding out other, more important facts about Arthur. For starters, where the hell the guy went to school, if he did at all anymore.

When asked, Arthur shook his head. His smiles were steadily growing more common, making Alfred relax more. "No. I attended university for two years after high school before deciding that it wasn't quite my cup of tea. I got a job after I jumped ship."

"Where do you work?"

"I work for the government, actually."

"For real!? Dude, that's really boring." Alfred's tone took a sharp dive from completely excited to totally dismissive. Arthur gave Alfred a deadpan expression, swatting at the top of the laughing man's head and sitting back in his chair.

Arthur was grateful that Al hadn't asked which branch of government, because he wasn't quite able to give a solid answer. His branch was, well, secretive.

"What about you, then?"

"I just graduated, actually. I'm leaving for King's College on a full scholarship at the end of the summer," said Al, his just puffed out with pride. He had never been that great of a student back in school, but he was absolutely fantastic in science, which was what the recruiters were looking for.

Some even called him a prodigy.

"Really? Wonderful, so I won't have to move away from England then."

Alfred nodded. "Yup," he said, his lips popping at the 'p' sound.

By the time it was 9:00, both had uncovered one another's favorite artist, animal, and toothpaste flavor. Arthur had scoffed at the last one, but eventually answered it after Alfred wore him down with his begging. Al never would have guessed that Arthur, annoyingly intimidating Arthur, loved the Kids Watermelon-flavored toothpaste.

By 9:30, Alfred was pushing Arthur through the doors into the little hole-in-the-wall that was on the shadier side of New York City. The regulars peered over their shoulders at the two, nodding their heads respectively to Alfred before returning to the bottoms of their pints.

Alfred swung into one of the seats in front of the rickety bar and waited patiently for the owner to take notice of him. When the guy finally did look over at his favorite high schooler, he grinned.

"Alfred!" cried the Danish fellow, moving quickly over to where the American was seated. "It's been so long! What have you been up to?!"

"Graduation, dude, graduation." Mathias, the owner, laughed and quickly poured Al a pint of beer.

"Here you go, drenge. Don't suck it all down too fast, now. I don't need a minor to pass out on my premises." With a grin and a wink, he moved on to a short, silent fellow who had appeared in the doorway after Arthur and Alfred.

Alfred took the liberty of pouring Arthur a cup and placing it in front of the Englishman. "Drink up," he grinned before draining his own cup. The beer slid smoothly down his throat, leaving a pleasant buzzing on his lips and tongue. He waved his hand for another from Mathias.

Arthur watched him a moment before sighing and mimicking the movements.

By the time it was 11:00, both were off their faces.

Mathias eventually shooed them out, watching with a bemused expression as the two toddled off, both leaning on the other in a misguided search for support. Then he returned his attention to the stranger who had entered the shop just after Al and his companion, the one with the startlingly clear eyes; his soul mate.

Alfred was about ten times more sensitive when he was drunk. The ring to Arthur's laughter had him mesmerized, the daring color to Arthur's eyes had him distracted. The smooth texture to Arthur's jacket had him pressing his face into the fabric. The polished luster to Arthur's words had him giggling like a girl. The feel of Arthur's hair had him pushing his fingers through the separate, light gray strands.

When they finally got to Alfred's apartment, Al found that the building wasn't entirely willing to cooperate.

His door was being stupid. Stupid doors. So was his key, for that matter. Where the hell was Mattie? Or even that waste-of-space Francis? Since when was the doorknob so blurry? Ah, there it is, good door. What a good door.

Alfred stumbled on his way inside, nearly ending up on his knees on the floor. Only Arthur's reflexes—still surprisingly quick for being so drunk—saved him from imminent death.

They barely made it into Alfred's room before Arthur fell upon him. They were both drunk off of their asses, and both had an obvious attraction towards one another. As Arthur hovered over him, Alfred found that those sharp little nips of the Briton's were delightful. He found that Arthur's lips were even softer than he'd expected. Calluses ran pleasantly across his skin. Those poisonous eyes stared at him through a veil of lust. Alfred was so fucking screwed, both literally and figuratively.

He was going to have so many hickeys tomorrow morning.

Next chapter will be up whenever I find the energy and inspiration to write and post it!

Thanks for your time. Please review, favorite, follow. I love everyone who reads my stories. :)

Also, let me know if there were any major flaws with what I've written.

Have as un-dolorous a day as possible!