Title: Flappy Bird Took It
Rate: K+ - T
Pairing: America/England
Genre: Humor/Romance
Summary: "... where are your trousers, Alfred?" was what came out from England's mouth as he stared at the American up and down. US/UK
Disclaimer: Hetalia's not ours, Flappy bird's not ours as well, neither does both pictures we based this roleplay on.
A/N: This is based on a roleplay between Arkanine and I, which is based on two pictures we found on facebook, one being a tumblr post of Alfred and Matthew arguing over their Flappy Bird's score, and the other being a picture of Arthur asking where Alfred's pants are. I changed into trouser because it was more England-like. (I lost the link to the first picture though, sadly. For those who wanted the other link, please just PM me!)
England was currently in America. You see, his boss currently was in a meeting with America's boss, but the git didn't seem to be there, at the moment, so England decided to go to America's house and see what the American twat was doing. You see, he was worried at the American. Usually, he would be in his boss' office around this time of the day—Wait! Why was he saying that he was worried? He was certainly not!
Okay... maybe a little... alright, he was worried. But don't tell the American.
Now he stood in front of the door and knocked it. One minutes passed, and another one. No answer. He decided to knock the door once more, this time also calling for America, "Oi, Alfred! Open the bloody door!"
Immediately, he heard footsteps. But rather than the usual running steps he always heard, this time it was a normal walking steps. He raised one of his bushy eyebrow at this, but decided not think too much on it.
Finally, the door was opened by the American, who looked quite tired, a sight England wasn't used to, unless if it was in war. This made England more worried, not that he would say it out loud. He wouldn't want America to found out he was worried, did he? Much less find out about England's feeling toward... ugh, that shall be discussed later.
England stared up and down at the American.
"...Where are your trousers, Alfred?" was what came out from England's mouth as he stared at the American up and down.
"Flappy bird. Flappy bird took it." America answered with a blank face. Not the cheerful one he usually used.
England frowned at that. Has he been playing that game again? He remembered that at one meeting, Germany was doing his presentation, until Canada screamed out at his brother that the Canadian has obtained a higher score from America in the Flappy Bird game, resulting on the American arguing with his brother, claiming that he cheated. And then, the two argued for the whole meeting, and they achieved nothing at that meeting as well.
He sighed, he remembered what he and France commented about that.
Anyway, back to the current situation.
"Alfred... are you playing the game again and get stressed over it?" England asked, using the tone he usually used at America when the American usually over-worked himself.
"I DIDN'T GET STRSSED!" America quickly yelled, before he froze and quickly explained, "I just, um, still searching for the way to beat Mattie's score!" He didn't want the Briton to think that he was stressed over something as... as... as petty as a game!
England quickly scowled at that, "You are definitely stressed Alfred." He started, annoyance was clear in his voice, "Stop. Playing. That. Game." He stressed every word, just to make sure the American understood what he was saying.
"NOOOOOOOOO!" America whined childishly, "I HAFTA BEAT MATTIE!"
"Git, first, it's 'have to', NOT 'hafta'!" The english nation corrected, before he went to the other point, "And at least, rest for a while!"
"But-!" America whined once more, but before he could say anything else, England cut him off.
"ALFRED!" England yelled, "You said that 'your pants have been taken by the flappy bird' for Pete's sake! That's proof enough that you are stressed over the bloody game!" he reprimanded, "Now rest!"
Seriously, America was beginning to think that England was in his 'mom' mode or something. That or he was just PMS-ing.
"Sure thing, MOM." America said sarcastically, emphasizing the 'mom' word
"Alfred, I'm not your mum." Oh look, England's scowl deepened!
"Whatever you say, Mommy!" America mocked again, trying to hold his urge to smirk.
Meanwhile, Arthur's annoyance level has been rising and rising, "I am not your mum, Alfred!"
"Then don't tell me what to do! Just... let it go~!" Alfred exclaimed in a sing-sang tone.
"But you're stressing yourself, Alfred!" Oh, there he came back, nagging about that.
"I'm not stressing myself!" the blue eyed nation denied.
"You are! People who kept denying when they are clearly stressed proves that they are indeed stressed!" And now the brit's trying to be a psychology doctor, hm?
"But I'm not, mom!" the American whined
England couldn't help but roll his eyes. Fine, if America's going to keep calling him 'mom', then he will play along. "Oh, but you are, SON." England insisted, stressing the word 'son'.
"Oi! I'm no son of yours! And I'm a-okay!" America countered. Heh, he kept on calling England 'mom, but didn't want to be called 'son', right.
"Then stop calling me mum!" England sighed, "And you are not 'a-okay', as how you put it!"
"But I am, oh mother dear!" there was the American's mock voice again
"Oh, I assure you that you are not, son." Play along, England, play along with the brat till he give up!
"But I'm not stressed out!"
Keep denying it, Alfred, and we'll see how this turns out. England thought, "Oh, but you are!"
"NO I'M NOT!" The American raised his voice, hell-bent on proving the brit that he was not stressed.
"YES YOU ARE!" England also raised his voice.
"I'M NOT!" America yelled, as he stomped his feet to the floor, and suddenly, a vase that was placed close to the door fell and crash. The crash was loud enough for England to hear it, "I'M NOT STRESSED OUT!"
England tried to keep his footing when Alfred stomped his feet to the floor. Seriously, couldn't the twat control his strength? "Yes you are! Look, you managed to make a vase fall and crash just by stomping the floor! Usually, you are able to control your strength better than this, git!"
"BUT-!" America knew he couldn't argue to that, so he sighed and gave up, "Yeah, I'm stressed."
England could only shook his head and sighed, "See?" he muttered, "Now stop playing that bloody game and rest."
Alfred nodded, "Yeah..." then he slumped himself down to England, "Carry me, mom."
England scoffed at first, "You prat, I'm not your mum." Then, something else came to his mind. America asked him to carry him. ALFRED asked ARTHUR to carry him. He blushed a bit at that, but didn't let the American see it. Instead, he tried to carry Alfred, but he was failing miserably at that. So in the end, he chose to drag him, "You're heavy." He commented as he closed the front door.
America chose to ignore the comment about his weight and chose to cheer like a kid, "Yay! I'm dragged!"
England face palmed with his free hand, but dragged him to the American's room anyway. He opened the door, drag him some more –which was really tiring the Briton, actually-, and then shoved the American to the bed, "There."
America just grinned and pulled Arthur to the bed, "Sleep with me!" He exclaimed
That made England blushed, "W-Wha—Git! Don't just pull me like that!" He scolded, but not trying to scramble away, anyway.
"I don't care~!" America pouted
"Wh—b-but—You are already big! Why should I sleep with you?" The Briton asked, glancing away. His face was still red.
"Because you told me to rest and I want it with you~" the American nation reasoned
"W-why do you want it with me, anyway?" England asked, trying to sound annoyed, but it came out more of an embarrassed question.
"Ah, well..." This time, it was America who looked away, blushing.
"Alfred?" England's face turned from an embarrassed one into that of a confused one.
"Well, it's because... you're my special someone." The American answered, seemingly not realizing that he said that out loud
"E-Eh?" England was caught off guard at that, and he blushed once more, "S-Special someone?!" He squeaked
America, realizing what he just said, blushed even more and hides his face under his pillow, Oh my God, why did I say that?! It was embarrassing! Oh no-!
"O-Oi!" England called, "What do you mean by me being your special someone?!" he asked. D-Did he just implied that he love me?! W-Wait, there are chances that he just thought me as a best friend or something...
Meanwhile, America could only produce inhuman muffled noise from the pillow.
England, being curious at what the American mean, quickly acted and pulled the pillow away from Alfred. "Oi! Speak more clearly! I can't understand you!"
But America just covered his flushing red face with his hands, and shook his head, not wanting to answer.
Well, it seemed that England needed to try playing innocent to get him answer the question, "Al, Alfred. Please, tell me?"
America peeped a little from between his fingers, "...Promise you won't laugh?"
England nodded, "Promise."
"I-I..." America began, stuttering. Then he said in a really quiet voice, but not quiet enough for it to go unheard by the brit, "Love you..." he looked really flustered after saying that.
At the same time, England's brain seemed to freeze for five second, not giving any reaction. "You... love... me...?" he asked in a blank voice.
Alfred nodded.
Arthur became silent once more for five second, before blushing furiously. "Eh, euh, uh, ah, um—" He was seriously lost for words here.
"Do you..." Alfred trailed off, hesitantly asking, "Do you love me back?" He looked at Arthur with those goddamned adorable puppy eyes.
That only made Arthur blushed harder, if that's possible. It looked even redder than Spain's tomato. Bloody hell! Stop using that face, Alfred! It's too cute! He thought, "Eh, um, I..." what came after those were incoherent words
Alfred moved to get closer to Arthur, "Well? Do you?"
Arthur stopped his incoherent muttering, looked at Alfred, before he answered, "T-Tá grá agam d-duitse f-freisin." He accidentally slipped into Irish, a habit that usually came out when he was to embarrassed. He couldn't seem to get rid of that habit.
"I'm guessing that's a yes... right?" Alfred asked, unsure. He just hoped that it was true.
Arthur nodded shyly, not trusting his voice to say anything.
And it seemed that Alfred was now having brain technical difficulties, and he was blushing beyond the colour red, if that was possible. The Briton was also blushing, and like he said, he couldn't trust his voice to say anything else at the moment.
So it was silence.
Alfred attempted to broke the silence, "So—"
But he was cut off by a slam of the door and his twin's scream, he heard Matthew's running to their room, and screaming, "YO AL! BETCHA CAN'T BEAT MAH HIGHSCORE Nooooow..." his scream died down when he stared at Alfred and Arthur blankly, "What are you two doing?"
Arthur just couldn't stand the embarrassment and passed out, falling to the bed.
Meanwhile, Francis came up from behind Matthew. He was with Matthew before, attempting to stop his former charge from playing the Flappy bird too much, but he was ignored. When he saw Matthew stood up and ran to the direction of Alfred's house, he was sure another argument would come up, so he decided to follow Matthew to prevent any other arguments between the teen.
"Matthieu, wa—eh?" That was till he saw Alfred and Arthur together in the bed, "Amerique et Angleterre...?" He was silent for a while, before a perverted grin made its way to Francis' face, "What are you two doing? Solving your UST?"
"Wh-WHAT?! N-NO! N-NOTHING OF THAT SORT!" Alfred exclaimed, denying what Francis' was implying.
"Aww." Francis pouted, "Then why are you two on bed together?"
And somehow, a same expression appeared on Matthew's face. Oh God, please don't tell Alfred that Matthew's French blood was acting up, "Didcha' do 'something'?"
"NO! HELL NO, NIGGA!" Alfred shrieked
"Aww, that's a shame!" Francis said in a mock disappointed tone, "But it seems to me that you actually wanted to do 'something' to petit cher angleterre~" Please, all Alfred wanted to do right now is wipe that perverted grin out of Francis' face. As well as Matt's.
"NO! JUST GET OUT!" He shouted, as he threw a pillow at Matthew and Francis.
Sadly, that didn't wipe out the grin from both French speaking nations; instead, it grew even wider. "Oh, it seems cher amerique didn't want us here, mon cher Matthieu. Should we leave the both of them so they can proceed to what they want to do?"
"Oh well, it seems so~ let's go, eh, Francis~?" Matthew said in a teasing tone, directed to Alfred, before both went outside, leaving the two new lover behind.
And Arthur was still out cold.
Alfred sighed, looked at Arthur who was still not conscious. He gave him a peck on the lips, before grumbling, "... Stupid Artie..."
That's when Arthur slowly regained his consciousness, somehow. Alfred couldn't help but feel like he was a prince waking up Snow White, seriously. Waking up someone with a kiss?
"U-Uh... what happened?" Arthur asked
Alfred pouted like a child and answered, "You left me alone to explain things while you pass out."
Arthur just blushed at that, "W-Well! I was just embarrassed!"
"Well, so was I! And I can't forgive you for that!" Oh, great. Alfred's acting like a child once more.
The brit then tried to thought over something that maybe would make the American forgive him, "U-Uh... I-if I k-kiss you, will you forgive me?" he stuttered, giving a sideway glance. His face grew redder again.
"Yes~" Alfred grinned
The grin eyed blonde could just huffed playfully and kissed the American on the lips. Alfred kissed back. It was just an innocent kiss. Both pulled back, and Alfred's grin grew even wider, before he pulled Arthur into a hug, "Now sleep with me~!"
Arthur could just smile fondly, and hugged his American back, "Fine..."
And they both fell into a peaceful slumber.
Omake:
"I wonder how much Japan and Hungary would pay for this video." Matthew wondered as he clicked the stop button at his iPhone. He and Francis never really went away from the house, just outside the room. Both have been spying at them the whole time.
"Probably with a high price, mon cher." Francis answered, still trying to hold himself from squealing at the cuteness of the scene.
A/N: and that was it, I hope you like it! Now for papa's random rant~ So about England's habit slipping into irish. In my headcannon, if nations became really flustered, then they would slip into their second language or ancient language. For England, if he didn't slip into Old English, then he will slip into either irish, welsh, or scottish gaelic. Why did I use irish here? Because I knew some irish, but I didn't know any welsh and scottish gaelic, at all XD
Arkanine: This drama was brought to you by: Flappy Bird and Hetalia. Contribute your money (Aozora: please don't mind this XD) to the NTT (Aozora: Don't ask.). We need it for randomness (Aozora: What he meant was that we need review to get more RP ideas, okay, not really). Directed by NTT and acted out by FACE family. Copyright is yadda yadda yadda, oh I give up.
Aozora: Read and Review! ^^
Translations (This is based on my limited irish and french, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.):
-Tá grá agam duitse freisin: I love you too
-Amerique et Angleterre: America and England
-Cher: dear
-Mon cher: My dear
-Petit cher Angleterre: Dear little England