Arthur didn't know why it always ended up like this. These… meetings, for a lack of a better word, between him and Alfred. Not America and England; he felt the need to make that distinction. This wasn't a relationship of convenience between a well-meaning 'hero' and a stuffy old colonizer- it was something much more fragile. A single thread, connecting two broken hearts. One of them a child grown up before his time, another a shattered soul who wished he could go back to the simple naivety of older days.
Whatever the reasons, whatever the times, some things always stayed the same, Arthur mused. When it had started, Alfred had just purchased a house in California- albeit a part of the state that wasn't stereotypically sunny and bustling. He'd invited Arthur over for a housewarming, saying some joke about the Brit being able to preemptively perform an exorcism. Arthur wasn't too surprised to find himself the only one there; Alfred had never been consistent with who and how many he invited where. They'd had a relatively civil conversation, put back more than a few beers between the two of them, and stumbled upstairs. But what happened afterwards hadn't been the usual drunk nation routine (a rough one night stand, with no mention of it in the morning). The two of them had taken it slow and soft, both afraid to say what they thought they felt for fear it would ruin what could be- and maybe already was.
The next morning, Arthur was the first one to wake. He didn't move, just gazed at the ceiling and tried to figure out what was happening. He knew that while they had always been close, neither of them were ready for a relationship, and probably wouldn't be for a while. So, where did that leave the two of them? Just the way they were, Arthur supposed. Two lost souls, sharing- what had Alfred called it? Oh, yes. A 'California king bed'.
Arthur sighed and tried to sink back into the warm mattress, closing his eyes when he heard Alfred stir.
"Arthur?" The American asked in a surprisingly vulnerable voice, even though it was still a bit husky from the previous night's activities.
"Mm?" Arthur hummed in response, not really ready to talk just yet. He didn't want to instigate an argument, especially after what had happened.
"Is it… Are you…" Alfred stumbled over his words, and then dragged a hand over his face, searching for the right question to ask. "Would you be okay if we didn't make this, you know, official? I mean, it's not like I hate you or anything-"
Arthur rolled over and placed a finger over Alfred's lips, effectively quieting the younger blonde. "Hush, lad," he murmured, exhaling slowly. "Let's just… leave things be for now."
Alfred smiled in agreement, not his trademark mega-watt grin, but a smaller, more sincere upwards twitch of his lips. "I'll be your California king," he whispered as Arthur pillowed his head on Alfred's chest, taking solace in the other's heartbeat.
Alfred and Arthur had more than a few 'meetings' like that, quiet nights where nothing more than necessary was said. While an official relationship was far from reality -they were both much too broken and too far apart-, the two of them gained an understanding that rivaled one of a committed couple. One of Arthur's fondest memories was of a night in that bed, with him laying spread-eagled over Alfred, trying to maintain as much body contact as possible. He was trying to forget, trying to sink into the soft skin and sweet smiles of his California king. Alfred didn't question it, just kissed him sweetly and locked eyes, a promise shining in a way that he couldn't verbalize. I'll always be with you.
Arthur had managed to drift into a fitful sleep that night, waking in the Alfred's warm embrace. He eased out of the two strong arms and snuck out to the patio that was attached to the room, taking slow, deep breaths of the cool air. As the Brit stared at the shimmering stars, he couldn't help but feel tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked a few times, but did nothing more to dispel them. It wasn't like anyone was there to mock him.
Arthur had come to the conclusion that Alfred was like those stars- beautiful and wondrous, but much to far away to be obtained by someone like him. Arthur resigned himself to the fact that all he'd ever have of Alfred were those stolen moments in the soft sheets of that bed.
When his small tears had finished with their quiet tracks across his cheeks, Arthur walked back into the room, swallowing past the lump in his throat when he saw his golden boy curled underneath the sheets, one hand still outstretched to the side of the bed that Arthur had vacated. Arthur crawled back into his embrace, determined to savor the moments that they had left.
Arthur wouldn't ever talk about the wish he'd made on the stars that night, and Alfred pretended that he hadn't felt something hurt deep inside him when he saw Arthur crying and leaning on a balcony- after all, who else had Arthur ever had to support him but himself?
Alfred could try to ease his loneliness with these weekend getaways, but afterwards… It killed him when he was at world meetings and he couldn't stand up for Arthur whenever he wanted to- even if America disagreed with England, Alfred still wanted to support whatever Arthur decided to devote his time to. But Alfred didn't know how to show that; America couldn't afford to be pulled around by Alfred's heartstrings.
So Alfred just hugged Arthur tighter to him, silently wishing that he would never have to let go, but knowing that as soon as the sun came up, he would have to let the small Brit go. He may have been Arthur's California king, but he couldn't be anything more.
Then, one morning, something changed. Alfred had planned to leave that Sunday, but something made him stay longer than he'd anticipated.
He'd been getting dressed, but had barely gotten his pants on before he heard a small noise emanating from the bed that sounded suspiciously like a hiccup. Alfred turned around, and saw Arthur- curled into a ball around Alfred's pillow, inhaling deeply and obviously fighting back tears.
"Arthur?" He asked quietly, not wanting to agitate the Brit.
"Are you coming back?" Arthur blinked a few times and lifted his tear stained face from the pillow, not noticing the effect his imploring gaze was obviously having on Alfred. "Every time you leave, I… I think it's the last time." Arthur's voice trailed off into a whisper, and his face plunged back into the comforting plush of the pillow.
"Arthur…" Alfred sat back down on the mattress and pulled Arthur onto his lap. He leaned into the headboard and gently ran his fingers through Arthur's sleep tangled hair. "Arthur," he repeated, sliding a finger under the Brit's chin and tipping the small face up to meet his. "I've been your California king for a while, but…"
Alfred saw new tears well up in Arthur's eyes, and hurriedly clutched Arthur to his chest before the other blonde could run away from what seemed like a break-up. "Hear me out, Artie." Alfred turned his gaze from Arthur to the ceiling, gathering the courage to say something that would either make or break whatever was developing.
"I want to be more than that to you, Arthur." Alfred looked down again to see Arthur staring back up at him, pain from more than a few broken relationships gathering in the corners of those green eyes. More than willing to deal with Arthur's weak side, Alfred wiped them away with his thumb. "So, whaddya say?"
"If you're suggesting turning this mess into an actual relationship…" Arthur completed his sentence with the biggest smile Alfred had ever seen him wear in that room.
Alfred whooped and rolled across the bed with Arthur in his arms, ending up sprawled diagonally across the bed that had been their foundation for so long. Arthur was a comforting weight on top of Alfred's body, pushing the grinning American further into the comfortable mattress.
Later that night, the two of them sat on the patio together, Arthur tucked snugly under Alfred's chin and the both of them gazing at the stars.
"Even though we're… together now," Arthur murmured, not wanting to break the stillness of the night. "You'll still be my California king, right?"
"Always," Alfred whispered back, planting a kiss on the top of Arthur's head. "Always."
Authoress' Random Ramble
Yes, I'm back. Yes, the first thing I'm posting is a semi-depressing UsUk story. Yes, some of you probably want to stab me repeatedly.
I'M SORRY. I could spend hours explaining excuses for not updating, but I'll sum it up in one word: school. Don't worry though- I intend to write prolifically this summer.
Seriously, I shall immediately get to working on updating my other stories so I'm not murdered in my sleep. For those of you who hadn't given up on me (few though you may be), I'd like to extend to you my sincerest gratitude- although since gratitude doesn't transfer well from Macs to PCs, I'll just leave you with a promise that several new, interesting things (one-shots and chapter stories) shall be posted soon (and dedicated to you).
Less than three, less than three.