The darkening blue sky, where it met with the restless ocean, was tinged with swaths of pink and orange, and it was for this reason that Arthur, as he gazed at the dulling, falling sun from the kitchen window where he stood washing dishes, heaved a heavy sigh. It was getting dark, and Alfred, who was ever losing track of time to a degree that pained punctual Arthur, had been fixing the shingles on the roof since noon. He had only come down twice since then: once for Arthur to fix him a sandwich, and then again because he was feeling spontaneously romantic and wanted to dance with Arthur for a song on the radio or two, in spite of how busy they both were. Otherwise, he hadn't left his work.

Arthur finished washing the dishes, dried his hands on his apron, and then he proceeded outside, mumbling things to himself under his breath as he was prone to do. He didn't even realise he was mumbling most of the time, only rarely being caught doing so by himself and stopping and looking around to make sure no one heard with an embarrassed blush, but more often than not Alfred would point this habit out to him and make him all the more embarrassed. The things he mumbled weren't of high importance; they were mainly just dates, times, chores, and curses directed towards his American partner. But, trivial or not, he muttered them all the same.

When Arthur made it to the ladder propped up against the house, his gaze followed the rungs up to the roof where he then searched for the roof lights. Arthur quirked his brow in befuddlement, however, as the lights weren't on. Odd. Had Alfred finished a while ago and slipped past Arthur? But he was clumsy – definitely not the slippery type. Arthur shrugged and decided to just climb the ladder and see if clumsy Alfred had broken the lights and was working in the dark or if he had fallen and needed assistance or something of the sort.

But when he reached the top of the ladder though, there was Alfred, laid flat on his back with his hands behind his head and a smile playing about his face. His head turned as he heard Arthur scrabbling over the shingles, and he smiled wider yet, "Careful, babes. Don't want you falling off."

Arthur sniffed and crawled closer to the lounging American, "Well I wouldn't be risking my life on this roof in the first place if you weren't up here so late, sitting so casually on the roof. You aren't even working. Have you done any work today?"

"Yeah, I finished up a while ago." Alfred chuckled, dimming Arthur's rumpled attitude with his boyish charm, "Come and lay down beside me."

Arthur wasn't one for going along with any of Alfred's barbaric ideas. But he supposed this idea wasn't really so barbaric. Yes, they were on a roof, but they were just going to lay there; so he just shrugged silently and went to lay down beside Alfred, clasping his hands over his chest and waiting to see what the big deal was. He then looked over at Alfred, who beamed back at him so sunnily that it seemed impossible for it to be night already. "Now look up" he said, and Arthur did.

His forest green eyes glanced over the sky, darker than it had been before through his kitchen window, but still with faint whispers of pink and orange, dotted with winking stars, and the clouds hovering along it all being illuminated by a glowing full moon. He guessed it was rather pretty.

"Yes, very nice, Alfred." he said, "I've got a good look at the sky. Can we go in now?"

"No, Arthur!" Alfred almost cried out, but still managed to whisper for the sake of their neighbours, "Isn't this romantic?"

"Uh…" Arthur looked some more at the darkness, balls of gas, clouds, moon, "…I guess?"

"Not guess; you know." Alfred replied, taking one of Arthur's hand and pulling it in to press his lips against Arthur's pale knuckle, "And whenever I see you, I feel like I could just glide up there and dance with the stars under the light of the moon."

"My God," Arthur rolled his eyes, pulling his hand back into place over his chest, "you are such a sap. Why did I go for that?"

"Because you love it really."

"Like hell I bloody do." Arthur sniffed, although a slight blush betrayed him. Luckily for Arthur, the darkness hid his pink cheeks from the oblivious Alfred.

"I love you, Artie."

"Yes, what-bloody-ever, Alfred."

"Should I take that as a "I love you too, Alfred"?"

"Do what you want – I can never convince you otherwise once your mind is set on something."

"Sweet." Alfred chuckled, and Arthur could practically hear his smile as his hand was taken into Alfred's again, because Alfred never could quite let go. And Arthur smiled, because the washing up was done, and the roof shingles were fixed, and the sky was pretty, and he needn't convince Alfred otherwise anyway because he was completely and utterly right.

Author's notes: This story was thought up by pie1313, and it is a reward for her passing some mathematics test of some sort or other (I don't know how American tests bloody work). Anyway, she's been trying for quite some time, and her efforts deserve some acknowledgement.
I actually quite like how this turned out. It all just went smoothly from the moment I started it, and I finished it sharpish, and thank goodness too because I need to sleep now.
It's a headcanon of mine that Arthur mutters and mumbles to himself unconsciously. It's also a headcanon of mine that although hard-working (as long as he likes the job), Alfred gets distracted a lot. And another headcanon of mine is that Arthur does most of the domestic chores, because "heroes don't do laundry. Or polishing. Or washing up", and because Alfred would never do the chores to Arthur's high standards anyway. However, Alfred would definitely take over the domestic task of cooking in a heartbeat, rarely giving in to Arthur's urges to cook.
Critique is welcomed, comments are appreciated!
Thank you and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Alfred and Arthur belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

AnorexicWalrus~