BREAK YOUR LITTLE HEART
II
Disclaimer: Nope, Hetalia doesn't belong to me. Marlboro and Havana cigars are not mine as well. They're just mentioned.
"…48 hours have passed and yet there is no clue of where the missing diamond is. Investigators are trying their best with a huge financial help from the Royal society in the search of the Royal family's most prized possession. The American Heart, two centuries old red diamond had been ceased by the then British Government right after the American Revolutionary War in 1786. The case report…."
Arthur groaned and shut his eyes tight as he stirred from his sleep and was hit by harsh head poundings. His fingers massaged his temples as he tried to lift himself up. Scanning his surroundings, he found himself wrapped in a white quilt on a queen sized bed. He found a LCD television currently on and the noise from the bathroom was the running shower. The window near the bed had let the sun rays in the light coloured room. He clearly understood this wasn't his room or a place he knew, the moment he woke up. His paranoid abilities were locked away for the moment due to the severe hangover hence his calmness had taken over his brain.
He was still figuring out what happened when he heard the shower stop. There was soft pitter-patter on the tiles and humanly sighs after that. The bathroom door opened and Arthur couldn't do anything but watch as his previous acquaintance walked out half naked, a white towel wrapped on his waist. The American eyed the Brit and smiled like the morning sun.
"Morning, beauty."
Arthur groaned as he felt pangs on his head again and lowered himself, shifting his weight to his elbows and watched the blond approach him. Holy lord. The novelist had continued staring the young man's body despite having head throbs and still foggy in his memory or sight. However, the twenty nine year old watched on, his hazy mind calculating and his eyes licking the scene laid before them. The water droplets trailed down from the man's wet hair to his smooth jaw then down the neck, trickling down the wide but sculpted chest and slowly, very slowly to those goddamned hard abs. His eyes were plastered over the body when he failed to notice the slightly sun kissed man had walked towards him.
The American bent down, his hands settling each beside the man's lithe body caging him. He crept forward, gingerly closing the distance between their foreheads—making sure the other was comfortable. "Hm…you're not having a fever. Just a hangover from last night, Arthur." The butterflies tickled the Brit's heart and made his languid breaths turn into a fast paced ones. Unable to regain his calm state of mind, the man lowered his gaze and tried to stop his mess of breaths—all while having his forehead stuck with Jones's.
The fast paced breath turned into anxious pants as his emerald eyes scanned his own body which in this case was—naked. Alfred had his face so close that Arthur could feel the man's hot breath on his face and the warmth sent chills all over body and amusingly a certain part of his anatomy had started to arouse itself.
Blue gazed over green, "Arthur."
Green gazed right back at the blue, "Alfred."
"Arthur, do you have a map?"
"A map?"
"Yeah…I think I got lost in your eyebrows."
Arthur pushed himself backwards, away from the American's touch. A slight glare adorned his eyes, "One more word of my eyebrows and you will find your heart out of your body."
"Just like the American Heart? The red diamond…?"
The novelist's breath hitched but he pursed his lips. Quickly grabbing a glass of water from the small table beside the bed, Arthur gulped down the liquid. His eyes fell upon the wall right next to him. "Oh, look at the time… I have to get back," Arthur watched the wall clock turn nine, "Um...may I know where are we? How did I get here? Why am I naked?" He blushed at the last part of the question.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold that train, mister…" Alfred got up from the bed and walked over to get the hair dryer, "You remember the four glasses of gold label?" Arthur nodded and got up from the bed with the thin sheets covering body.
"You collapsed after the third drink. I tried asking Gilbert dude where your apartment was but the guy had drowned himself in vodka after a challenge with Ivan. That guy was totally wasted! And there was another blond German…um...Lu-Ludwig! Yeah, Ludwig nearly crushed Ivan's face after seeing the wasted dude…" the blond finished drying his hair and walked over to the couch and handed over the clothes to their rightful owner.
"Anyway, since the hotel I was staying at was way too far and I couldn't drive since I had the drinks as well… I went to the nearest hotel, brought you in and then you barfed for like five minutes and then barfed again all over my clothes and yours. I took off your clothes, got you in bed and got myself a nice time washing both of our clothes… And wallah! Today here we are…"
Arthur listened to his words carefully and moped when he heard he had ruined the young man's clothes and wasted his time and money. The main point to be noted was—the young lad hadn't taken advantage of his drunken state! The man was an idiot yet a hero; his hero. At the moment, he knew Shakespeare would've been laughing at his foolish presumptions but that wasn't going to change his thoughts of the American idiot.
"Alfred, I'm so sorry…I must have been a huge burden—"
"Aw…come on, Arthur. You weren't a burden. You're my first Brit buddy!" he cheered as he slipped the last of his clothes.
Arthur smiled and watched the man slip into his bomber jacket. "But, Alfred, if there's anything I could do for you…" The man walked towards the Brit and smirked with mischief glistening his eyes, "Well, I have a few things in mind." "Pervert!" The Brit laughed as he watched the bespectacled man step back and shield himself in jest.
"You could treat me some nice breakfast though…"
"I can do that," the Brit proudly declared, "Let me get dressed first."
Few minutes later, both the males were fully clothed and ready to take on the day. The duo walked out the fairly large hotel in silence—Alfred skipped as he followed the older man. As the two polar opposites walked together their hands seemed to touch every time they walked at each other's side; the law of attraction may have existed between. Alfred loved how the other would blush furiously whenever their hands got attracted while on the other hand Arthur found it embarrassing as hell.
Alfred took out his premium Marlboro cigarette and his favourite silver lighter with the flag of USA imprinted on both the sides. Blowing thick circular smoke reflecting the cirrus clouds above, he smirked at the smaller man and offered the cigarette, "Want one?"
"I thought you wanted breakfast. Anyway," the Brit dug his pocket and took out his Havana cigar and his silver lighter which was precisely a twin of Alfred's silver one but only differed with the flag of Great Britain on each side, "I have stronger taste than yours, boy."
Alfred made few cheesy comments on how coincidentally their lighter were of the same company and Arthur just smiled at how it just had to the same as the American idiot's.
As they walked on, Arthur's cell vibrated in his pocket. The blond quickly took the device out and answered the caller. "What?!" he exclaimed, "Bloody hell! I'm not coming over! I-I…am busy, you twat!" Alfred watched the man scream at his phone. "I have work! No! Don't you dare you monster! Alright, alright! I'll come! Positive!" With the screaming fit over Arthur placed the cell back in his pocket and stopped in his tracks.
"Alfred, look…I really would have agreed to take you out for breakfast but," Arthur pouted in grimace, "My bloody brother wants me to attend to his so called urgent business…"
"It's cool, Arthur. I was just kidding about the breakfast…I just wanted to spend some more time with 'ya," Alfred followed suit and gave his grimaced pout. The Brit's emerald eyes suddenly lost its clear gratification and were filled with despair. He too wanted to spend some more time with his American idiot.
"Hey, Arthur… I think I'm lost," Alfred grinned, "Can you give me directions to your room?"
The moping Arthur was replaced by the original one who laughed and slightly leaned against the American for support. The man happily caught the other's hand, his warm hand—Arthur noted that was bigger than his and his own hand fit into the other's palm as if his hand was crafted for the very purpose. Smiling to himself at his dwelling thoughts, the older man guided the younger—to his room.
"I hope that demon doesn't attack you," Arthur spoke under his breath as the duo walked up the stairs leading to the Brit's apartment.
Alfred chuckled. "Demon, huh? Your brother must've bullied you so damn hard…"
"If only it was typical bullying…" Arthur sighed.
They finally reached the third floor and were greeted by two small flags on the main door. One of England and the other of Scotland, Alfred noted. He had somewhat figured the Brit was as devoted to his motherland as he was. But he couldn't understand what the Scottish flag was there for. If he loved the Great Britain then there should have been the flag of Wales as well.
The host opened the door and walked in as the other followed quietly. The apartment as Alfred thought was super vintage fashioned with Victorian furniture, dark colours and ecstatic prints on the walls, a huge portrait of their Queen, a murkily crafted door leading to the kitchen, two similar closed doors, a huge LED placed on the wall right above a fireplace and classic 18th and 19th sensation draped all over the wide space but with modern touch. The couch was unusually faced towards a large window that let the morning sun streaming inside the open living room.
The apartment unexpectedly had no other human being than themselves. Or that's what they thought.
"Mmm…Alistair, more….Don't stop."
"Ye' delicious being…let meh gnaw ye' down to the bones…"
"ALISTAIR KIRKLAND! GET YOUR DAMNED ASS OFF THE COUCH!"
Arthur snapped at his older brother whose head suddenly appeared from the couch with a cynical smirk spread all over his face. Alfred noticed the man was half naked or maybe fully; he couldn't see for the man was behind the couch. The man had fiery red hair with ginger hues, emerald eyes slightly dustier than Arthur's and eyebrows tad bit smaller than his brother's.
"Ye' back, eh? Go on, prick, and prepare the breakfas' quick!" Alistair said; a demanding pitch in his voice.
Another head popped from behind the couch—spiky blond hair and somewhat less built than Arthur's brother. "Whazzup people?" the man's eyes widened upon seeing the American, "Alfred—the fuck are you doing here?!"
"Mathias Kohler! Danish dude! What the hell, man! I thought you were out with your tiny Norwegian partner!" Alfred shot back with hints of amusement in his voice.
"The freaking guy ditched me and well I came back with Alistair," the Dane replied as he wrapped his arms around the Scott's neck for support.
"Alfred, I'm sorry for interrupting but this certainly isn't the time to be discussing those things!" Arthur threw his hands up in the air and walked towards the kitchen. He was followed by Alfred shortly. Arthur left him alone in the kitchen and went on to scold his brother and ramble on of how his decency was always in the gutter and how his couch was now stained and other things Alfred had no idea of—probably because he was already done with the pancake batter until then and heating up the pan to start on the preparation of the meal.
Half an hour and few brotherly riots later, the four were all seated at the dining room with Alistair and Mathias already dressed and freshened up and Arthur finally giving a time-out on his screams. The table was decorated with traditional American breakfast, keeping in mind who took the trouble to prepare it. Pancakes, syrups, coffee, tea, bacon, eggs and fresh salad were served on the table which was usually filled with burnt scones and bitter cups of tea. The conversation was fairly normal apart from the Scott and the Dane's occasional flirty tit-bits in between (which Arthur noted was the first time happening in his dining and feeling seriously uncomfortable of it given he had another guest whom he had seen half-naked and flirted countless of times).
"So..ye' two dating, huh? Since when?" Alistair sipped his tea.
Alfred chirped, "Since yesterday!"
Arthur narrowed his eyes, "Uff! We are not dating! The git is lying!"
"Come on, Artie… You're single. I'm single. Coincidence? I think not."
"Don't you dare call me that, idiot! And stop with the nonsense pick up lines already!"
Mathias gulped down the tea before he spoke, "Man, what were you doing? I thought you were one of those egoistical flirts who were 100% straight!"
"Stop talking about yourself, Kohler…" Alfred humoured.
"Mathias jus' a fuck buddy, that's all. Last night's encounter was jus' concurrence," the Scott raised his legs to rest them on the table. The other two weren't quite affected but the Brit certainly was. Arthur glared at the red head but rolled his eyes focusing his mind on the wonderful breakfast.
"Hey, Artie," Alfred turned towards the thick browed man.
"Yes, my love," was his reply dipped in sarcasm.
"Do you have any raisins?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Then…how about a date?"
The American and the Dane left right after the breakfast was peacefully over—apart from Arthur murdering his brother a hundred times in his mind for staining his dining table with his damned legs. Alistair had settled down at couch and was gazing hazily at the news while the other getting the dining as it was before.
"The American Heart case has no evident fact on the suspects however the investigators are pointing their fingers at the Americans and claim that they had stolen the diamond to get back at what Britain had ceased from America two centuries ago. The Americans, enraged at the accusations have…"
The younger Kirkland finished clearing up and exited the kitchen quietly but stopped upon seeing his brother focused on the news. Clearly, Arthur wanted the man to say at least something about the blond he had brought along but as they say…expectations lead to disappointments. Alistair didn't mention anything even after the guests had left.
"The publishing house called yesterday," the blond broke the maintained silence, "They said they had the pages printed with ease. They are waiting for the edited portion—"
"He's suspicious'…"
Arthur raised a brow. "Who is suspicious?"
"That guy you brought… Alfred Jones, ain' it?" Alistair lifted his legs and settled them on the couch with his upper body leaning back.
"Sus—what nonsense are you sprouting?"
The older Kirkland sighed as he flicked the channels. "It ain' nonsense, prick. Haven' seen the news? Ya' know who ya' must trust and who ya' musn'… Don' repeat Gilbert's mistake."
"The Hungarian woman was the one at fault. I am quite sure Gilbert hates himself for trusting her that easily. But Alfred…isn't like that. He's just a foreigner visiting London. There's nothing that—"
"Yer fuckin' him—"
"I am not! We are just acquaintances! We aren't even dating!"
"Exactly what 'em sayin'… Ya' jus' met and yer already getting into him."
"I was not even saying anything related to him! You bring him in the topic from nowhere and—"
"Don' give me that shit, Arthur. The momen' that man stepped in this apartment, I knew ye' were literally expectin' me to say that 'the guy was great and I like him' stuff. I fuckin' knew that!"
Arthur was blinded by anger. His brother had no right of telling him whom he should trust and he shouldn't. He had no right of accusing an innocent man. Alfred was whom he came to know and he may not know much of him but there was a huge part of him that wanted to spend more time with charming American and get to know him more. The attraction might just be a slight infatuation yet Arthur loved that feeling of being alongside another human being who actually acknowledges him—who actually understood him the moment they met.
"One more word about Alfred, I swear I'll—" the novelist didn't finish. He knew any drama writer would have laughed at his foolishness for trusting someone he just met and not his own. But that wasn't of interest to him.
"I'm leaving."
The blond took his coat from the hanger.
"Yeah, jus' leave already! Cool that shitty brain of yer' and come back! Or jus' abandon me… like father did." Alistair sank back into the couch.
Arthur clutched the doorknob with a heavy heart torn between stepping out of the apartment to run away from the confrontation or stay back to defend what he felt he must.
Author's Note: Hello again! Thank you for waiting patiently for a week and as promised, I updated! Thanks for the follows and favourites, guys! I'm also grateful to those who took time to go through this stuff. Thanks to GarGoyl for that wonderful review!
Second chapter was tricky so there might be few mistakes here and there that have missed my notice. The American Heart is a RED diamond. I know, even I didn't believe there were red diamonds in the world. Well, that's probably the case now. It's stolen! And who's an American?
Gilbert is like totally wasted and didn't appear in this chapter (thanks to the magical treats from Ivan). And… If you noticed, there was a HUGE hint of ScotDen there. Don't get me wrong. I adore DeNor but ScotDen is just super sexy. But of course, as Alistair mentioned, they are just sex friends. Well, that was that. The slightly angst end wasn't actually planned but I thought it would just fit there. So, you have the second chapter and the third… well I'll try my best for an update on upcoming Thursday.
Reviews are love.
Have a wonderful day~ Namaste, SuPa4Natural.