Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: I wasn't the one to send the original message about writing prompts and whatnot, but one caught my eye and I did want to return something for Snowy's amazing fanfiction. If you're reading this, I hope you enjoy! /blushu/ And any other readers, enjoy it too! Unless you don't want to, then pssh, fine by me.


Royal flush

Alfred was getting annoyed.

Except annoyed wasn't the correct word. It was more...frustration at the feeling of futility-that no matter how hard you tried at something, you'd fail. That was something that he hated the very prospect of. And yet, as every day passed this feeling grew more and more.

It wasn't over politics, oh God no, because as irritating as those stuffy old geezers with their prejudice views could get, he was always able to block them out. This matter was more...pressing. Constant. This 'problem', loathe that he call it as such but that was how he felt the current predicament of the situation was, was everywhere. Peridot orbs in the corner of his eye, descending the staircase with those elegant, slender legs or perching delicately on a bench in the garden with porcelain skin...

Yes, Arthur Kirkland was the difficult problem he had to solve.

Condescending eyes would fall upon him when he tried to tell a joke, but held hidden mirth behind many layers. He would notice the ways in which the corner of his petite lips would curve up into a small smile when reading or embroidering. And God did he notice the way the shorter man's hips would slightly sway as he walked, the subtle curve of his rump pressing ever so gently through the striking royal hues. It was that day when he saw Arthur pass in the hallway for what felt like the millions time that he was no longer infatuated, he was obsessed.

Yet pine as he may, Arthur would always miss the hints dropped randomly. A fresh bouquet of Azalea in his sleeping chambers. Invitations out to a short walk in the gardens. Compliments soon turning into risky flirting. Alfred felt that he had tried everything and was ripping his hair out trying to figure out what to do next.

And that was how he found himself in the verdant courtyard gardens, peering nervously from a prickly hedge to get a better glimpse of Arthur by the sculpted fountain and trying to formulate a plan. How should I approach him? Alfred worried nervously, hands tangling and crumpling in his navy coat to battle off the urge to bite his nails. Will he brush me off like usual? Will he laugh? No, no! I shouldn't be worrying like this. Be in control, you're in command. You're the king, you're the hero, you can do this.

Mind set, Alfred pushed himself forward with a determination that he hadn't felt in weeks. However, just as he was setting off, the queen seemed to have his own idea and swiftly stood up off the bench and started walking the other way. Not on my watch. Picking up his speed, Alfred quickly approached the male and grabbed his figurine wrist, pulling Arthur towards him.

"H-hey, um, Arthur, I-" The cheerful, excited voice was soon but off by the realisation that, maybe, just maybe he had pulled a bit too hard, and with the surprised exclamation of, "A-Alfred!" the two awkwardly toppled into the immaculate fountain.

Quickly, so as not to let the feeling of forceful water invade his senses, Alfred quickly shot up from beneath the freezing surface, shaking his head to rid it of water and inhaling large, deep breaths of air. Realising that Arthur was still in the fountain too, he looked over to find a very amusing, and yet enchanting scene.

The queen's soaked hair stuck plastered to his forehead, eyebrows placed into an irritated scowl and with the puffed out cheeks to top it off, he looked like a sodden cat. However, he also noticed the pixie dust flush that graced his curvaceous cheekbones, how the shallow ripples of the water were reflected by the light and mixed, dancing with his bottomless absinthe eyes and the minuscule water droplets that clung to the end of his honey blonde hair and effeminate eyelashes.

It was with that thought that Alfred pushed past all reasoning and logical thinking of the situation and kissed Arthur. There was surprise at first, firm and still lips opposed to the idea, but to the king's shock, Arthur slowly started to return the kiss, cherry lips moving along with his whilst small yet firm hands gripped the side of his trench coat, gripping tightly and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. Lips, tongue and teeth battle for what seemed like an eternity until the two broke apart, flushed and panting heavily.

The silence only lasted for a few moment before Alfred broke it.

"Arthur..." He waited until the man's eyes reached his, "If you'd felt like this about me too, then why didn't you tell me?"

A look of confusion passed upon the queen's face, before an understanding expression and then settled onto an endearing one. In a flash, Arthur pulled the other man close to his again, kissing him roughly with what seemed like frustration quickly before looking down at the water, an embarrassed blush forming across his face never yet seen before Alfred.

"You dolt. You never noticed the ambrosia I gave you."

And with that, Alfred returned the kiss.


A/N:

Azalea-Love, romance, first love, fragile passion.

Ambrosia-Your love is reciprocated.