Alfred F. Jones looked outside, his face set in a small frown. The blizzard still hadn't let up. It had been raging for days – Alfred had been trapped inside, with nothing else to do but wait it out, and he was bored.

It wasn't that Alfred hated snow or anything; he still liked to jump into the drifts that piled up near his door, and one of his favorite things to do was to look out the window and see children laughing as they played in the white, magical fluff that graced their yards.

But Alfred was a summer man. He enjoyed being able to bask in the warmth of the sun, laugh with others in a shared good mood, and exercise without freezing to death. And he definitely didn't like being stuck inside due to a blizzard, of all things. Not to mention the snow had become so bountiful it had cut off his power.

That was the kicker, right there. He could have weathered the storm had he still had television or video games or a heater. Instead, he sat in front of his fireplace, wrapped up in nearly ten blankets, rubbing his hands furtively back and forth in a sad attempted to create friction. Still, he figured he wasn't so bad off – the fire was a blessing to be sure – so he tried not to complain all that much. Regardless, he would still glance outside occasionally and have a one-sided swear-off with the snow.

Oh well.

Alfred considered calling his brother, Matthew. Mattie was visiting his mom in Canada right now, but Alfred couldn't fathom why he had chosen now to go. If things were bad here in Chicago, the American reasoned, Canada would look like an arctic tundra. Maybe Matthew would bring home a polar bear?

Alfred turned once more to look out the window. The moon's glow illuminated the clouds, but the moon itself was not visible – just enough light filtered through for Alfred to see the street, assuming the snow let up enough to allow Alfred to actually see anything.

It looked really lonely out there, Alfred thought suddenly. Like there wasn't a soul in the world. Like no matter how hard you looked, the only thing you'd find was traces of human life, but you were always unable to find the actual thing.

And suddenly, as if to respond his thoughts, Alfred caught sight of something moving down the street. The American stood, blankets falling down around him as he moved to the window and looked out.

For a moment, he didn't see anything. Perhaps he had been wrong; perhaps there had been nothing there after all. But then – there, between the raging white tears, something moved again.

It was a man, Alfred noticed with due surprise. A man was trudging ever so slowly down his neighborhood, head tucked in to defend against the cold. Alfred watched as the man worked his way to one of the houses opposite Alfred's, walked up to their door, and knocked. He knocked again, and again, but nobody answered, and the man sighed and slumped to the ground on their porch.

Anger and unnecessary guilt washed over Alfred's mind as he stared at the darkly-clad figure at the other end of the street. He knew those people. They were a friendly family, with two kids and a grandmother. Why weren't they letting this man in? Why couldn't they even answer the door? Didn't they know someone was freezing outside?

Letting his impulses take over, Alfred threw his blanket aside and ran to his closet. He slipped on a pair of boots and threw on a winter coat. He wasn't going to let that man freeze to death out there. It was wrong, and if he did nothing, he'd be just like that family he thought he knew.

So Alfred F. Jones whipped his front door open and barged outside. At least, he tried to. If the cold that tore into his flesh despite the coat didn't stop him in his tracks, the seven-foot drift in front of his door did. Alfred swore to himself as the snow tumbled inside his house, stretching out and dousing his carpet. But he'd just have to deal with that later, he reasoned, after he helped that man out there.

Alfred jogged as best he could through the snow, and he stumbled more than a few times, but he was determined. The little voices in his brain berated him for not dressing more appropriately or this weather, but he ignored them.

It took him longer than he would have liked to fight his way across the street, but eventually he managed. With large steps, Alfred came up to the porch.

The man was huddled against the door, facing away from him most likely in a vain attempt to shield himself from the wind. Up close, Alfred could see that the man's clothes were thin and ragged, not suited in any way for the cold. He had a scarf wrapped up around his face, and he was trying desperately to rub his hands together for warmth. Alfred had been doing the same thing not too long ago, he realized.

If he wasn't sure of this before, he was sure now. Alfred took the final few steps forward and laid a cold hand on the man's shoulder. He jumped visibly at the touch, and Alfred backed up a little, holding his hands up passively. "Whoa, dude, it's okay. I'm a friend," Alfred said in what he hoped was a comforting voice before flashing him a warm smile.

The man had short, messy blonde hair and thick eyebrows that rested above startlingly green eyes. He regarded Alfred with equal parts alarm and disbelief, his mouth opening and closing in an attempt to say something.

Alfred made sure he didn't have to. "You look cold. If you don't have anywhere to go, do you wanna wait out this blizzard in my place? I don't have electricity right now, but I do have a fire, so…"

The man narrowed his eyes, obviously thinking tis over. Just then, an exceptionally strong gust of wind tore through the two men, causing them to cringe. The man nodded then, his mind made up.

"Great! Now come on, follow me."

Alfred took ahold of the stranger's hand (so he wouldn't get lost on the walk back) and pulled him back the way he came. Already his footprints were fading back into the snow – however, the trail was still much easier to navigate than if he were to go trudging through the deeply packed stuff, and he made much better time returning home, even with the man in tow.

Alfred stepped over the mound of snow that had invaded his house as he opened the door and signaled for the stranger to enter first. He showed an initial reluctance to entering the dark house – not that Alfred blamed him – but eventually did as he was told.

Alfred followed him inside and frowned at the mess before struggling to close the door once more. Once it latched, Alfred went to the kitchen and came back with a lighter, setting fire to the candles that had gone out when the wind blew in. he fireplace was still burning, though, so Alfred gently pushed the stranger towards it.

"You can use any of those blankets next to the fire there. Except for the Captain America one. That one's mine."

The stranger still seemed too bewildered to comment. "Thank you," he said instead, so quietly that Alfred scarcely heard him.

"Sure thing, dude! Make yourself comfy – I'll be back with more blankets."

Okay, so Alfred had way too many blankets. What of it?

Alfred discarded his snow-covered coat on the floor and slipped off his boots before walking to his closet. When he came back with the blankets, he saw the man had discarded his wet clothing and was buried under only a single blanket, shivering against the fire. Alfred frowned and laid the extra heap on the floor next to him before sitting down.

"Dude, you can use more than that one blanket, you know."

The stranger blinked as he stared into the fire. "I wouldn't want to impose…"

That made Alfred laugh. "Um, do you even see all these sitting here? If I tried to wear them all, I'd probably pass out. Take as many as you want."

Hesitantly, carefully, as if Alfred was going to suddenly change his mind and get rid of him for taking so many covers, the man picked up another and laid it on his lap. Alfred narrowed his eyes and sighed. This was taking way too long.

"Here," he said, slipping off his bomber jacket that he wore everywhere. He handed it over to the stranger with an encouraging gaze. "I've been wearing it all night, so it's really warm. Wear this."

The stranger, as expected, shook his head.

"Dude, wear this jacket or I'm kicking you out."

The shock was evident on his face as he stared at Alfred. His eyes lowered to the jacket, and ever so hesitantly, he took it and put it on.

It looked far too big for his small frame, Alfred noticed. He looks really cute like that.

"Good, now you have to take at least five more blankets, got it? And scoot closer to the fire."

The stranger stared at him speechlessly for a long moment before his lips quirked upwards into a small smile. "Huh," he half-laughed, "very well then."

Alfred smiled when the stranger did as he was told. He still shivered, but that shouldn't last for much longer. "So, what's your name?" Alfred asked, draping the remaining blankets over his own body, slightly missing the warmth of his jacket.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland," the man said with a tiny smile.

"Arthur, huh? Good to meet ya! My name is Alfred F. Jones."

"Well, Mr. Jones-"

"Alfred."

"-right. Alfred. Er, thank you for letting me stay the night. I don't think I would have made it much longer out there."

That made Alfred's heart twist painfully. "Yeah. About that. Are you okay?"

Arthur nodded gratefully. "Thanks to you, I am. I don't think I have frostbite, anyway."

"Oh. Good." A thoughtful silence fell over the room. Alfred shifted uncomfortably. "So, Arthur, what were you doing out there? Don't you have a place to go?"

Arthur shook his head slowly. "No. My mum just died recently; without her, I haven't been able to pay any bills. My books aren't selling, and all the jobs I got hired at were too low-pay. My house got taken away from me."

Alfred winced. That was horrible. "That really sucks, dude. Sorry to hear about it all."

Arthur waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. There's nothing to be done now."

Again, silence fell over the two men in the living room. Alfred wasn't sure why, but he wanted Arthur to keep talking. So he asked, "So, you're a writer, then?"

Arthur laughed humorlessly. "I was a writer, you mean. Apparently not a very good one, either."

"No way," Alfred replied with interest, "I'll bet you're a totally awesome author. America just must not be ready for your talents, that's all."

Arthur blushed at the praise, and he turned his head away with a cough. "A-Ah, you haven't even read it yet…how can you say anything right now?"

"That's true. You'll have to let me read your book sometime, then, Arthur. So I can give you a real vote of confidence." Alfred flashed a grin. "What do you say?"

Eventually, though, he relented with a sigh. "Very well, then. If you insist, I shall let you read one of my books sometime."

"Hey, great! Thanks, man!"

Arthur huffed, but he didn't anything by it. He turned and looked at the fire in front of him with a fond expression on his face, and Alfred smiled at that. He really was cute, even if he still looked a bit worse for the wear. It didn't help that he was curled up upon himself, and wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, and wearing Alfred's jacket…

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, tensing up under Alfred's touch.

Alfred had scooted over and leaned against Arthur without even knowing it. Nonetheless, he simply smiled and replied, "Extra warmth."

Arthur's face was bright red, but he didn't say anything, perhaps still concerned about offending his host. This gave Alfred the chance to press himself even closer to the other man, laughing as he did so. When Arthur started to shift away, Alfred looked up at him.

"Aww, what's wrong, Arthur? Don't you like me?"

Arthur seemed taken aback by that comment. "I – you – I don't even know you – not to say that I don't like you, but – I mean –"

Alfred burst out laughing. "Dude, it's okay, just a joke! If you don't want me invading your personal space, I'll get up."

Alfred began to push himself up, but at the last moment, he felt something pull him back down. Arthur was pointedly looking anywhere but at the American, and a light blush dusted his cheeks still, but… "No. It's okay. You…are really warm, so…"

Alfred wasn't sure why, but Arthur's words sent his heart leaping through his chest. The cold escaped from his body and was replaced with a wave of happiness that crashed up against him in an instant. For once, he didn't speak. He smiled softly and returned to lying up against Arthur's side, humming to himself in pleasure.

They remained like that for some time in comfortable silence. Alfred wasn't sure just how long it'd been, but at one point he remembered waking up with his head on Arthur's lap. The man was fast asleep on the floor as well, and for that, Alfred was thankful – if his quick jerk upwards in shock didn't give him away, his burning face most definitely would.

The American glanced outside to distract himself and was pleased to see the snow was beginning to let up some. The softest glow of dawn's light colored the otherwise pure white as it fell from the sky. So he and Arthur must have slept for the remainder of the night, then… not that it was past 5:00am anyway, but the idea still stood. The fire was still burning, but only barely; he realized this with a suppressed shiver and a forlorn look at the embers dancing on the wood.

Then, hesitantly, he turned his attention to Arthur. The man was lying on his side, with one arm up above him and the other arm curled in close to his face. The blankets he had worn had long since fallen apart from their cocoon-like hold, instead covering him haphazardly.

But he was still wearing Alfred's jacket. The American hadn't been this giddy in a long time – just the sight of Arthur made his heart leap, and before he registered what he was doing, he leaned over and pecked Arthur's forehead.

The writer mumbled something incoherently as he stirred from his sleep, and Alfred berated himself for waking a man who clearly needed his rest. Arthur's eyes blinked open lazily and he pushed himself up with one arm, yawning loudly. Alfred watched with a sort of fascinated interest – as a child would watch an animal from afar – as Arthur's consciousness slowly came to life. He looked confused, like he wasn't sure exactly where he was. When his eyes landed on Alfred, however, he visibly relaxed. It seemed he remembered.

"Mornin', Arthur."

"Mm," Arthur hummed in reply as he moved himself to where he was leaning up against the couch nearby. "Good morning to you too, Alfred."

"Were you cold last night?" Alfred asked, a little concerned considering Arthur's condition before.

But to his relief, Arthur shook his head. "No. You were right…your jacket really is warm. At least, it seemed to work for me."

Alfred grinned. "Good to hear! And, uh…sorry, dude. I meant to offer you a bed, but I guess I fell asleep."

Arthur's lips quirked up into a smile, as if he was reliving a fond memory. "Alfred, it really is okay. It was quite nice just to sleep indoors, all things considered."

Alfred wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he instead positioned himself where he was sitting cross-legged before Arthur, draping a blanket over the man's lap for more warmth. Arthur huffed, but watched Alfred with a tiny smile. But then, as quick as it had appeared it was gone, and Arthur's gaze narrowed as he thought of something.

"…Alfred, might I ask you something?" Arthur asked, his voice thick with worry.

Alfred nodded.

Arthur opened his mouth to ask, but he seemed to have trouble forming the words. Eventually, he just settled for, "Why did you choose to help me?"

This wasn't the kind of question Alfred had been expecting. "Huh?"

Arthur sighed, and seemed to be fighting with himself. "It's just…I had given up. But you came out to me, in the middle of a blizzard, and you allowed me to stay here." He swallowed before continuing. "I mean, you had no reason to. You had plenty of reasons not to. So…"Arthur fiddled with his thumbs uncomfortably, unable to look Alfred in the eye. "So…why?"

Alfred allowed his gaze to bore into the unresponsive Arthur. "Arthur, look at me."

Arthur hesitantly raised his eyes to meet Alfred's, his expression clouded with…fear? Loneliness?

Alfred grabbed Arthur's shoulder and stared into his face. "Arthur…"

Arthur swallowed and trembled under his gaze.

Alfred shook his head. "Arthur, when I saw you out there, I just…I couldn't leave you, you know?" At the look on Arthur's face, it was quite apparent he didn't. Alfred sighed. "You just…you were going to freeze. If I had just sat aside and done nothing, you would have frozen and…" he gulped down the word he couldn't bear to voice, "…yeah. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd just looked the other way. Does…Does that make sense?"

Arthur didn't move. Alfred averted his eyes sheepishly, suddenly feeing rather embarrassed. Part of him still expected the jeering remarks he'd received as a child – though he knew Arthur was more mature than that, the idea still flashed through his mind.

Something soft pressed against the side of his face. Alfred looked up just as Arthur was leaning back, his face red and his green eyes pointedly looking in another direction. Alfred raised a tentative hand to his face, where the skin burned (in a good way) where Arthur had just touched. He was speechless. All he could manage was a weak, "…Arthur?"

Arthur forced his face into a frown as he sat back on his laurels, crossing his arms and turning his head to the side. "I-It's not like I kissed you or anything. I just…you did save my life and all, so I just thought-"

Alfred felt himself move more confidently than he actually felt. He lurched forward in a sudden fluid motion as he pressed his lips to Arthur's. He pulled away quickly, unsure if he was stepping over any boundaries – he had just met this man yesterday, after all.

Slowly, trying to comprehend what just happened, Arthur muttered, "…Do you do that to every stranger you meet?"

Alfred gasped indignantly. "Arthur, we aren't strangers!"

Arthur sighed, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I guess."

Alfred nodded, as if his point had been proved completely right.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "So…you didn't really answer my question."

Alfred pursed his lips as he tried to recall…Oh. Yeah. Alfred felt his face burn once more as his rash kiss came back to mind. "O-Oh. Um, no. I don't normally…but you're not a stranger, Arthur!"

Arthur looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just let out a humored chuckle. Then, with a sigh, he glanced outside at the window.

"I think it's about time I head off, mate. The snow's letting up – and I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."

Alfred grabbed Arthur's wrist just as the man was about to stand. "Hey, wait. Dude, where do you think you're going?"

Arthur furrowed his brows. "Didn't I just say…?"

"No, you just said you were leaving. Not to where."

Arthur made a face that looked like a pout, but he didn't reply.

"…Do you have anywhere to go, Arthur?" Alfred asked skeptically.

Arthur wanted to say yes – it was written on his face – but he found he couldn't lie. Not to Alfred. He shook his head slowly, eyes downcast. "No. But I'll figure something out. Don't you worry."

Alfred sighed, and didn't relinquish his hold on Arthur's wrist. "Arthur…how would you like to stay here for a while longer? At least until the weather becomes nice again, or you have a place to go. I…" Alfred swallowed, his breath caught in his throat. "I really wouldn't like to see you get hurt. And it looks so lonely out there…"

Arthur stared at him incredulously. "I – you mean – stay?"

Alfred nodded eagerly. "Yeah! Just until you get back on your feet. Come on…what do you say?"

Arthur didn't reply for a long time. When he did, it was with a laugh so cute and lovely and heartwarming that Alfred believed he could never hear enough of it.

"If you'll have me, Alfred, I would love to stay."

Little did these two know that Arthur would not be staying for a couple of weeks, or a month, or a year

Arthur would eventually move in officially, paying his own rent

They would fall in love – a love which would stand the test of time, regardless of their arguments or their differences

On cold nights, they would bundle up in blankets and sit around the fire, and Alfred would offer Arthur his jacket

And in the late hours of those nights, as they leaned against one another, they would look outside at the falling snow

And remember how lucky they were on that day

When an angel emerged from the white.

Here's a short-ish USUK one-shot that I wrote for my sister's birthday. I know their romance-thing is kind of hurried, but I hope it doesn't bother anyone that much ^^; I wanted it to still be cute, you know?

Anyway, I do hope you all enjoy!

Hetalia - Himaruya