Title:The Idiot Hero's Back
Disclaimer: Hetalia is not my creation.

Genre: AU/Romance
Pairing: America × England
Rating: PG-13 because they love to swear

Summary:Arthur doesn't want to be saved. Especially not a loud-mouthed blonde, blue-eyed idiot that had more power than sense. Curse his hero complex!

"Arthur, is this a joke? What–ARTHUR!"

Arthur turns slightly, halfway facing him, still refusing to look into his face. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the boy glare at him, defiant as always, but there is confusion in those blue eyes, fear and uncertainty replacing his once unshakable confidence.

"Look at me at the eye, Arthur. Fuck it, why are you–"

"Don't move." Arthur finally fully faces him, and his heart clenches in pain at the sight of the injured boy lying there on the road, bleeding from his wounds, wounds he received in trying to protect Arthur. Guilt eats inside him, tearing his heart to shreds. How foolish had he been to think this would all end differently. He should have known better.

"Arthur–"

"Shut UP!" Arthur growls out, voice cracking like a whip in the air. The boy starts at his outburst, then stares at him with open-mouthed shock that would have been comical had it been in a different time and place. "I told you, don't move, you stupid fool. Just lie there in the pavement and don't move." In a cool, dismissive voice he somehow manages to summon from whatever depths, he adds, "You idiot. You're going to die in a few moments, so just lie there and be quiet for once, and enjoy the time you have left in peace."

Arthur turns his back to him again, unable to bear to stand seeing the look of betrayal that flashed across the boy's face. "And if you follow me," Arthur says, voice tight as he fights down a sob. "I will never forgive you."

He can't let the boy risks himself further for him. Arthur had caused him enough trouble.

I'm sorry, but you can't be a hero to everyone.

Damn him. Damn the boy and his hero complex. Arthur had been ready, had been at peace with the world. He was ready to die, no regrets, but the bloody git just had to–"You idiot!" Arthur screams at the boy standing so casually on the execution platform, as if he wasn't holding back a force that could incinerate both of them into nothingness with only his immense, overcompensating sword. Arthur knows he is crying, he can taste the salt of his tears in his lips, and that is undignified, but he doesn't care, doesn't pay attention. He is too caught up with the chaos in his heart, from the heady mixture of relief (He's alive!), pride, anger and fear. "You fucking brat, I told you not to follow me!"

The boy gives him his familiar confused look, and Arthur had to choke back a sudden urge to laugh (and throttle him with his bare hands, not that he would be able to do that in the moment). "But–"

"I don't need your fucking help! There's no way you'd win against the captains, against him. Why did you–"

His vociferous rant is drowned out at the sudden roar of the fiery-winged spear blade as it flaps it wings back to prepare itself for another attack. Arthur flinches at the intense heat in the air even as his blood freezes in fear. Oh, no, if the dammed birds hits us again–

"All right, let's cut the chit-chat," the boy says, flashing Arthur his cocky, brilliant grin. Had Arthur not been busy panicking, he would have found the boy's newfound confidence annoying, "Let's get you out of there." He jumps to the middle of the platform just above him and raises his sword high over his head, gripping it tight with both hands.

Arthur's eyes go wide. "Idiot! You can't just destroy this platform, it's–"

"Just shut the fuck up, Arthur." The boy looks at him straight in the eye, and the determination in them takes Arthur's breath away.

And then there is a sudden surge of power that sends chills up Arthur's spine, followed by a blinding flash of light, and then familiar hands grabbing hold of him, holding him against an equally familiar warmth.

When Arthur can see again, he finds himself free from his restrains, slung casually across the boy's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

" 'Don't help me. Go home. Don't be an idiot'," Arthur hears Alfred mutter, mimicking his accent (he sounds atrocious). Arthur does not look at him, doesn't want him to see the tears in his eyes, though he was sure Alfred could feel them through the dampness of this robes on his back, where Arthur has buried his face against.

"I told you before, Arthur. I don't have to listen to you. You think I'm going to just let you die? What kind of hero do you think I am?"

Alfred shifts him a bit, tightening his grasp around Arthur's waist. "I told you I'll save you, and I will. And then we'll go back home, with everyone who'd come with me to help me out. I'm not going to let anyone stop me."

Arthur grips Alfred's robes tightly, fighting back a faint smile at the familiar cockiness in his voice. "I won't thank you for this, you fool."

Arthur does not need to look to know Alfred is smiling that stupid grin of his again. "Heh. I know."