Puffing sounds echoed as smoke clouds vaporized into the air. Teeth clenched hard to keep it in place, lips puckered on and off to inhale the taste and exhale of smolder floating about. Smoking a pipe was relaxing for the British nation, as his younger brother America idly played with his toy soldiers. In the drawing room, sitting in his hair, Arthur would steal a glance at Alfred and smiled seeing him enjoy his toys. His eyes were mostly on a book he was reading, now and again he would removing the pipe and hold it out to get a bit of clean air. This was a nice relaxing evening for the chap and his little brother.
Alfred himself stole some glances, not to the person but what the person was holding. Smoking pipe. He always saw Arthur sucking on it after dinner or when relaxing in the evening; such as now. Why did Arthur suck on it? Maybe it had something sweet or tasty, he would at times sigh or lick his lips as if savoring the palate of whatever he was drawing on.
Curiosity struck him a hard note, finally he asked. "What's that?"
Arthur paused his reading and looked down at the boy. "What's what?"
Alfred's small stubby finger pointed at the wooden burning object, "That."
Arthur looked seeing he was pointing at his pipe, "Oh this." He chuckled. "It's a smoking pipe."
A tilt of the head gave in. "Smoking pipe?" He still didn't understand by that answer.
Arthur put the book down finding this was going to be one of those '50 questions' moments the American nation gave. "Yes, it's like blowing a whistle or horn." He tried to explain. "Only you suck it instead."
"But there's no sound." He indicted with knotted brows.
"Right, it's not an instrument. It's used to give people relaxing feel to them." Arthur smiled tapping it on the end of the arm chair.
"So, where does the smoke come from?" Alfred sat up on his knees, now fully interested on the object.
Another chuckle, boy was he curious. But, Arthur didn't mind, Alfred was learning and that was something to get the boy to do. Arthur waved him over, Alfred trotted over and watched as his elder lowered to show more details on the pipe.
"See, this end is filled with stuff called tobacco, once it's lit, I suck on this end." He sucked and puffed smoke out, giving a sigh.
Alfred smiled. "Is it good?"
The Englishman nodded. "Of course, it's delectable as one would say."
Blue eyes suddenly bugged out in a sparkle. "Let me try! I wanna try!" Alfred cried jumped to reach for it.
Arthur instantly held it high from his grasp. "First, it's 'want to' not wanna. Second, you can't have it." He stood walking across to the mantle above the fireplace.
"Aww!" He whined tugging at the end of the brown vest. "Why not? You said it tasted delactbell!" Alfred continued to tug on his elder brother's clothing.
Arthur was started to get annoyed. In the back of his blond head he had a feeling he'd want to try it but decided to shove the thought away. It was biting him in the rear end for this.
"Firstly," Alfred groaned at that. "It's for grown men only. Second, its dee-lect-a-ble." He explained putting the pipe on top the mantle. "Now come, dinner should've been made a bit ago." He took the small boy's hand and led him away to the kitchen.
The whole time as he walked out, Alfred's big blue eyes were glued to the object. Oh, he was sure to get it. Even if he had to sneak behind his brother's back.
As the night got darker, crickets chirped out and the wind bristled around the small home of the open meadow land. In the darkness of the house, little foot steps patted against the wooden creaky floors. They were slow and light, at least trying to be. He knew Arthur would hear him and assume he had to go to the 'loo' or look for British nation's room to sleep in from the fears. But little Alfred tried his best to push his fears aside and kept in search of the living room. Sure, it was his house, but at times he can forget where one room was compared to another. Small home indeed, but concerning on keeping a memory on every single detail of everything in the house was not needed.
"It should be this room, since I passed the kitchen." He said to himself in a small whisper.
Going through an archway opening he felt correct, Alfred stuck his arms out in search for the oil lamp by the chairs. Soon he found it almost stubbing his bare feet into the wooden leg of Arthur's favorite chair. Light enveloped the room, the young nation looked around and beamed finding the pipe. Feet padded to the white wooden paneling ending against the brown wooden floor. Alfred glanced up, and reached his arms high, seemed he was only another half of him left to get to it.
A grin stretched as he ran out heading back to his room.
"But, why do I have to get involved?" Yawned the Canadian twin as he was tugged away from his nice room into the only light one.
"Because, Arthur said it was tasty, and I want it." Alfred answered.
His twin, Matthew, didn't see it as a good reason. But, anything to get him to stop blowing air into his ears and rolling the nice warm blankets off of him, was worth doing. Back in bed he was sure the bear, Kumajiro, was taking all the warmth and comfy spots for himself. Selfish bear.
"Promise I can sleep after this, Alfie?"
He smiled and nodded stopping at the fire place. "Promise Mattie." He grinned and pointed up at the mantel. "See that there?"
Matthew rubbed his eyes and yawned again. It's cold, he thought, nodded at his brother. "Sure, sure." He said and suddenly found Alfred trying to climb on top of him. "A-Al! What are-Ow! That's my eye!" He started whining thinking he was doing it on purpose.
Alfred was attempting to climb onto the little Canadian's shoulders to reach the mantel better. "Shush! You're going to wake-"
"What's all the commotion?" Came a British accent.
A light shadowed into the room from a tall thick browed Brit held a candle stick and waving it around to see. He noticed the oil lamp on in here, but what really caught his green eyes were the two boys climbing on one another. They froze looking to have been caught sneaking scones or cookies from the kitchen.
The purple eyed boy started to get a bit upset not wanting to get in trouble or spanked. His eyes welled up with tears and fell to his knees making Alfred fall to the ground with a grunt. "Je suis désolé, je ne voulais pas faire ça! Alfred m'a fait sortir de ma chambre! S'il vous plaît ne pas me punir!" Matthew started crying afraid he would get in trouble.
Poor boy, Arthur thought, not fully understanding what the boy just cried about. He did catch the words Alfred, sorry, please, and room. So, putting as much as he could as well as his crying, Alfred made Matthew get involved to try and get what was on mental. And what was on the mantel. Giving a short glance, his brows lowered seeing exactly what he thought; the smoking pipe.
But the British Empire knelt down to Matthew and picked him up, patting his back as the upset and overly tired boy cried into his shoulder. "There, there," He whispered. "You are not in trouble." He assured.
Mattie sniffled. "I'm not?" He wanted to make sure he heard right.
"No," His eyes shot to a nervously grinning Alfred. "Alfred, I want you back in bed this instant. And if I hear you come out of your room for any other reason besides the loo, you will be punished." He warned still patting the little Canadian's back. "Understood?"
"Yes, Arthur." Alfred nodded and turned to the oil lamp turning it off. When the only thing was Arthur's candle, the boy instantly clung to his side. An 'omf' was giving from the strong grip, but her took the boys back to their room, tucked them into bed, kissing goodnight, and shutting the door to go to his own bed.
Matthew sniffled a bit rubbing his eyes going back to sleep. Next to him Alfred pouted with puffed cheeks and a glare to the ceiling. He was sure himself he would get the tasty pipe and sure he was.