January 5th
Twelfth Day
12:43 p.m.
"You are, by far, the most ridiculous nation I have ever known," Arthur stated, gazing down upon his guest, who lay sprawled out on the carpet. I cannot believe he passed out… all from me insisting that he live by a healthier lifestyle! How hopeless can one man become? The Briton bent over, grasping Alfred under each shoulder and proceeding to drag him into the living room, setting him down gently on the sofa. His emerald eyes fell upon his former colony's unconscious face, a mask differing greatly from the peaceful face of slumber. In the blissful moments of sleep, Alfred had always worn a unique expression; at peace, yet so troubled all the same. However, compared to those moments, the "out cold" face bore nothing but deep, undeniable contrast. Alfred's eyes were shut tight, covered by clamped eyelids, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Truthfully, he had the appearance of a disturbed madman. All the same, Arthur found this side of him simultaneously horrific, crudely amusing, and adorable.
He looks almost pained… Oh, that's right; he bumped his head on the desk… Arthur, hesitant at first to break his own personal regulations and boundaries, inched his right hand forward, thankful for Alfred's lack of awareness about the current events, and brushed back his guest's hair from the side of his head, feeling around for any sort of injury. His fingertips brushed lightly against a sizeable swelling bump just above the left ear; gratefully, the much-too-familiar feel of blood failed to make itself present. The last thing he needed was the opportunity to mop up Alfred's pouring blood, so for this, he thanked the heavens silently. He took notice of Alfred's face twisting up out of discomfort, and slid his hand back towards the armrest of the couch. Might as well get the dolt an ice pack or something…
As he approached the freezer, stuffing a towel to the brim with ice cubes, he couldn't help but allow his gaze to drift back over to Alfred's weakened form on the couch. I don't believe I'll ever be able to explain your strange lifestyle; such a pathetic guy, and yet… you always manage to find your way to the top. Why can't I have such luck? Instead, I'm stuck nursing your swelling scalp! Was this, perhaps, the beginning of Arthur's karma? By some odd chance, was this his way of receiving payback for his own revenge? Life has a cruel, wicked way of doing things…
He swung the freezer door shut, a chilly frost sprouting upon his face, and made the much-too-short trek back to his unconscious guest on the sofa, who hadn't moved an inch but to bury his face deeper into the armrest. Arthur let loose an edgy sigh, tilting Alfred's head again to allow him access to the swelling red bump. He softly brushed back the sticky hair again and placed the ice-filled towel on the lump, flinching at the American's momentous shiver.
He'll never be able to survive with the new eating habits. However, regardless of what befalls me from this, as much torturous time will be spent with this irritating git… It'll all be worth it in the end. Maybe he'll get so sick of my company that he'll actually leave me be when I desire.
"But we all know that's not you really want," said a high-pitched voice beside him. A pixie stood on Alfred's head, resting on his temple with a bored expression on her face.
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." Arthur shut his eyes lightly.
The miniscule creature yawned, resting her chin inattentively in her palm. "Oh, don't even get me started. Sure, there are times in your life in which peace is like Heaven itself. But, others, particularly this spent with this buffoon, you become completely flustered. The anti-social lifestyle morphs into a Hell."
"This is completely irrelevant!"
"Oh, but it's not! Quit making up excuses, you blinded wanker!" She rose quickly, tapping a foot against Alfred's pale skin. "You kissed him, Arthur. Have you done anything of that sort with Francis? With Matthew? With Peter? I didn't think so!"
"It meant absolutely nothing!" Arthur's eyes blazed, staring down at this cretin with agitation. The Englishman, usually a sharp-tongued gentleman, found himself shouting. "It was a one-time thing! Look at him!" The American's eyebrow twitched, his lips quirking up into a stupid, passed-out smile. "Do you think the carefree, over-confident Alfred F. Jones would ever return anything that I could ever feel for him? It's a blooming lost cause!"
"Only if you allow it to become one. Spend these months with him; diet him, torment him, seduce him, whatever you desire. Keep that pessimistic attitude; we'll see if you allow him to abandon you again." She vanished, mockingly humming "The Star-Spangled Banner".
Dammit… Arthur swore in his head, nails digging into his calloused hands as his fingers balls up into clenched fists. What have I gotten myself into? I can't bloody think straight! Oh, damn it all!
"Ughn…" Alfred groaned, eyelids giving way to reveal his brightening oceanic orbs. "What happened?" He slowly rose from the couch, finding such a task increasingly difficult, as he was much too tall to fit on the loveseat. Deciding that he would make do with his current position, feet slumping over one end, his neck hugging the other, Alfred brought his hand up to his head, fingers lightly touching the tender spot above his ear. He grinned foolishly, retaining his normal personality, and directed his gaze to England. "Oh, yeah! You said you were going to-"
Arthur stood, arms crossed, scowling. "I'm going to take a shower. Go ahead and leave whenever; the training will have to wait for another day." Without awaiting a reply, he turned on his heels and stalked out of the room.
Alfred said nothing, face curious as he felt something moist slide from his head. Bending over, he picked up a towel from the carpet, sopping wet and dripping with frozen water. Hmm… thanks, Ig.
His pants pocket began to vibrate, jolting Alfred instantaneously. Bringing the cloth back up to his swollen bump, he reached into his pocket with the other hand and flipped open his cell phone. "Hello?"
"Alfred!"
"Matthew? Is everything alright?"
"Y-Y-Yes, but… erm, there's…. a, kind of-"
"Rule number one, Matthew!"
"There's a bunch of strange noises coming from the cellar! I went down there, but-"
Alfred's eyes widened. "Wait, what? What did you see?!"
"I didn't; I was calling to ask where the light switch is."
"Oh… right. Don't worry about it, Canada. I should be leaving shortly." It's probably just Tony… don't really feel like filling Matthew in on those details right now….
"Are you sure?"
"Of course, I mean… I'm a hero, after all!"
"What does that have to do with-"
"Just don't worry about it!"
"O-Oh yeah, Alfred, I, uh, found a sprig of holly on the banister about an hour ago. I took the liberty of… well, you know… putting it away."
"Oh, thanks, Matthew. Later!"
"G-Goodbye."
Alfred clamped his phone shut, shifting from his spot on the sofa into a sitting position. Guess I'd better leave, before the old man changes his mind about the diet thing… "See you around, Artie!" he called, smiling and waving at thin air. Sighing contently, the American stole one last glance down the hallway and exited via the front door.
"He's gone, you know," said a voice above Arthur, who lay miserably on his mattress. The pixie from earlier popped back up, lying on his forehead with her head rested lethargically on his bushy eyebrows. "These are pretty cushiony, you know."
"Oh, shut up, you annoying-"
"Let's not get cranky, now," she muttered out of boredom, stretching. "There went your chance of patching things up between the two of you. That smooch from a week or so ago… that left things jumbled between you two pretty hard, you know."
"I'm not daft. I knew that the moment it happened." He sighed, resting a hand on his stomach. "I wish I could just… undo what happened all that time ago."
"No you don't. I can see it in your eyes. On the contrary, you want it to happen for real this time."
"'For real'?"
"You know, more than just a nervous peck on your account."
Arthur said nothing, silence providing more mood and emotion than words could ever create. "It was just… a mistake. And now I'm being punished for it."
"Jeez, you really need a hobby."
"Shut your trap," he snapped, but softened his face apologetically. "Sorry… you're right. What am I to do?"
The pixie said nothing for a moment. "Why not… I dunno, use this diet plan as an excuse? Maybe you need a resolution for yourself; train him, torture him, make him pay. Then, when he least expects it…" She dropped from his eyebrows down into his face. "BAM!"
"Wah! Are you mental?! Get out of my face!" Arthur swatted her away, sitting upright. "And what are you implying by the 'bam', exactly?"
"Oh, come on, use your imagination. It all depends on where you want this relationship to go; if you'd rather it be a lasting, fairytale love, then maybe a single kiss, followed by others as time goes on. If you see it as merely a year-long fling, to be reversed at any given time, go all out."
"I'm not even going to ask what you're trying to imply. Are you sure you aren't French?"
The pixie shrugged. "Whatever, your choice. The name's Xepherya, by the way." And with that, she left his presence.
Well, that didn't help things at all… The Brit thought, rubbing his throbbing head. She can't be right. It doesn't matter, my opinion of Alfred; he could never return the emotion. Not in the same sort of love, anyway.
Guess I'll plot for the first dieting session. Assuming he even shows his face. Wonder when I should plan it for. Suppose he'll find that out soon enough. He snickered gently.
He recalled the picture frame on his dresser; oh, there were many, of himself, of family, allies, all sorts of historical moments. A single painting sat on the top of the wood, however, near the back; a painting of Arthur himself with a little America beside him, grinning innocently with the playful purity of a child. The Englishman shook his head, smiling with a certain sense of bittersweet melancholy.
Perhaps things are better this way.
He couldn't help but pray that he was wrong.
A/N: For whatever reason, I have trouble resisting the urge to update this fic. I simply love writing this, oddly enough. However, with school starting back up tomorrow and midterms approaching, I may not get to update as often. I really enjoyed typing up this chapter. R&R
Would you all mind if I updated this sooner than planned? For instance, if I ended up writing a chapter for this about... April Fool's Day or something, and it was the end of February, would that bother you? Just an inquiry, because I really do love writing this. ^^
