"Aha! I knew I had a picture of this somewhere! Come here Alfred! This is proof not all my food is trash!"
Arthur contently sat in his corner and stared at his discovery like it was his pride printed on a piece of paper.
"What the hell's that picture of?", asked Alfred in an inquiring voice, as
"Take a look for your self!", responded Arthur, happily shoving the loose picture in to the Americans face. Alfred removed the photograph from his features, then held it out in front of himself. What he saw put him in awe. The photo displayed a scene where a beaming Arthur smiled widely at the camera while holding out a simple yet delicious looking meal.
"Arty, d-did you make that food?", stuttered Alfred, looking up at Arthur with a shocked expression.
"You bet your bloody ass I made it! It was my first palatable meal that you actually liked!", Arthur announced contently.
"But how did this one meal turn out so good?", asked Alfred putting an emphasize on the word 'one'. Arthur blushed and squirmed slightly.
"It was made with love."
Alfred tried to stifle his laughter then shouted,
"Dude! That sounded so cheesy!"
Arthur pulled himself over to the couch, took a large, fluffy pillow and whacked Alfred across the head.
"OW!"
"GIT!"
Alfred rubbed the sore spot where he had just received a one-two punch from a pillow and turned to Arthur.
"What the hell was that for?"
"You called me cheesy without even listening to the story behind my comment! Do not judge a book by its cover, Alfred."
Arthur quickly retorted against Alfred's semi-question.
"Fine then. Tell me the story, then I'll tell you my option."
Normally, Alfred would complain about how long Arthur's stories were but this time he was actually extremely curious about what had happen to create this photo.
"Wow Alfred, that was surprisingly mature of you. But never mind that so we can get on with this memoir-like thing."
"Ah! Finally, a place we can relax!"
It was 1:00 am and Alfred and Arthur had just arrived at Feliks' house. Feliks was gone for the weekend so they had let themselves in using the spare key (which was infamously hidden under the door mat.) and were now preparing for bed.
Once the couple were washed, they both sauntered toward the bed and slide under the creamy white covers.
"Wow, this place isn't as 'wicked hipster pink' as I thought it be.", said Alfred as he slipped under covers and turn out lamp beside him which only barely light the petite room. When there was no reply from the small figure that was already curled up on the bed and facing the wall, Alfred assumed Arthur was already asleep. Alfred removed his thin-framed glasses and placed them quietly on the small nightstand, being careful not to wake the sleeping Brit.
"Hey Alfred.", mumbled Arthur softly and causing Alfred to jump practically two feet.
"Alfred can you leave the house for a couple of hours tomorrow in the morning? I would like to do something."
"No!", exclaimed Alfred much louder then intended.
"I mean...no.", whispered Alfred apologetically.
"Every time I leave you alone, you either become upset or get hurt."
Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's upper body affectionately, trying to tell that he was serious.
"That's rather caring of you Alfred, but I really need to do something."
Arthur emphasized the word really in the sentence, trying express how much he wanted this.
"Okay, but no freaky-secret deals with the CSI or whatever they got here in Poland.", responded Alfred in a playful but weary tone.
"Thanks, Al.", said Arthur, saying the rarely used nickname he had given Alfred. Arthur rolled over in Alfred's arms and nuzzled his face into the larger nation's chest, which smelled like a mix of coffee and McDonald's. A small grin spread out on Arthur's lips at the (oddly) comforting scent and warmth that he knew was simply Alfred.
"Good night."
•••••
"Come and get up, git! You promised you would leave in the morning, not the afternoon!"
Alfred opened his eyes and squinted at the bright sun that was partially blocked by a figure he couldn't quite make out (though, judging by the accent, he was almost certain that it was Arthur). Alfred craned his head toward the clock to check the time.
"Gosh Arty, it's only 8:00...", murmured Alfred, trying to shake off his 'early' morning daze.
"Yes, it is! And I want you out of here by 9:00! So hurry up and and put on some proper clothing!"
Arthur threw some dark wash jeans and a t-shirt that said 'I am HERO!' at Alfred who was still getting up it what looked like slow motion. As if getting cold clothing thrown at him wasn't enough of a wake up call, Arthur quickly added in,
"Oh! I almost forgot!"
And whipped a pair of American flag boxers at Alfred's face.
"Ok, Arty! I get it! I'll get dressed!"
Alfred jumped out of the comfort of his warm bed and rapidly started pulling on his pants. Arthur watched Alfred get dressed while he stared at his watch and tapped his foot impenitently. Once Alfred was dressed (well, he still had to pull on his shirt but that didn't matter), he was pushed to the doorway and an array of items were shoved into his face. As he finished putting on his shirt, Alfred looked down at the items 'given' to him. He was currently holding a (store bought) blueberry muffin, a tourist map and his trademark bomber jacket.
"What's all this for?", asked Alfred with curiosity.
"Isn't it obvious? A muffin so you don't go hungry, a map so you don't get lost and your jacket because, well, you don't usually leave the house without it.", spoke Arthur with slight annoyance lacing through his words.
"Awww! I didn't know you cared Arty!"
"GET. OUT. NOW... And be home by 11:00.", said Arthur as he scooted Alfred out the door to hide his blush.
"'Kay, I'm going! Bye-bye Arty!"
Alfred jumped into their rental car and started driving his way into the town. There was a pause of silence once the small vehicle pulled out of the drive way until Arthur shouted loudly to himself,
"LET'S GET COOKING!" Yes, cooking.
Once the sound of his voice echoed to silence, Arthur quickly whipped out his cell phone and dialed in Feliks' number. The familiar sound of the dial tone rung out, then the click of someone picking up.
"Hello? Arthur? This is Toris on Feliks' cell. He's unavailable ri-"
Before Toris could finish his sentence, a familiar voice chimed in farther away from the phone.
"I'm totally back, Tori~ Oh? You're, like, on my phone! Who is it?"
There was a muffled whisper then a buoyant voice came on the line.
"Hi Arty! Li-"
"Do NOT call me 'Arty'!", said Arthur, becoming slightly annoyed at Feliks' use of the pet name Alfred had given him.
"Aww, but Alfred said I could!", whine Feliks playfully.
"Never mind what Alfred said. The reason I'm calling is because I need to know where you store your cook book."
"Whoa Arthur! Your, like, totally going to cook? Ohhh! I bet it's for Al~!"
Arthur was suddenly glad he was only on the phone because he knew that Feliks would have made fun of his cherry-red face.
"Sh-Shut-up! Just tell me where the damn cook book is!"
A stifled giggle could be heard from Feliks' end, then,
"Ah! Tori! There are eggs-"
A crashing sound.
"GWAH! That's, like, a HUGE mess! Oh! The cook books in the drawer beside the stove! Gotta go!"
A click played through the phone's speakers, telling Arthur that Feliks had hung up. Arthur sighed as he made his way to the kitchen. The things he did for Alfred! Arthur pulled the cookbook from the drawer and began flipping through the sections.
Appetizers, no. Breakfast, no. Lunch, yes!
The English man smiled and began to look at the recipes presented to him. This one doesn't look to hard, thought Arthur as he looked at a stew recipe.
Deciding on the recipe he found, Arthur took out some beef from the fridge to start cooking. As the Briton started to cut the pieces of beef up, he found that the house felt seemed empty without the bumbling voice of Alfred bouncing off the walls. Out of the corner of his left eye, Arthur noticed a radio nuzzled in the corner of an open face shelf and decided that maybe all he needed was a bit of music. Arthur quickly washed off his hand and walk across the kitchen to where the radio had been left. As he started to play with the dials on the radio (Polish music wasn't exactly his thing), Arthur came across a station he recognized from Alfred's house. Leaving it at that, Arthur went back to his chopping.
•••••
It had been at least a hour and a half and Arthur had finally got the stew actually cooking. Stopping his stirring for a moment, Arthur noticed that a song he knew was playing on the radio.
"...incase they're wondering...pinned terribly..."
Arthur started to mumble out the lyrics subconsciously.
"...you should know it's true, just now, the part about my love for you and now..."
As the song progressed, the volume of Arthur's (rather good) voice began to rise until he was fully belting out the lyrics.
"Baby it's fact! Our love is true! The way black is black, and blue is just blue!"
•••••
"Ah, damn! I'm early! I hope Arty isn't mad!", whispered Alfred to himself as he unlocked the door. The American was about to announce his arrival when he heard one of his own tunes coming from the kitchen and a certain British man singing it. Sneaking up behind Arthur, Alfred decided to surprise the man a bit. Arthur was currently at the last chorus.
"Baby it's fact~!"
"Oh, oh baby!"
Alfred joined in, echoing every line
Arthur sung. Until he turned around.
"AH!", screamed Arthur, "How long have you been there?"
"How long has someone been echoing your voice?", smirked Alfred mischievously. A blush made it's way across Arthur face, soon realizing that Alfred had been there for quite some time.
"Hey, can we eat now? I'm starving!", asked Alfred, smelling the stew.
"Of course, but are you not surprised that I cooked?", questioned Arthur in a confused voice.
"You talk in your sleep.", grinned Alfred wickedly.
"GIT!"
"I knew that story was a good one!", said Alfred, acting smart while nodding his head.
"Oh as i- Wow! Look at the time it's already 6:00 and only 4 pictures!"
Arthur cut himself off when he saw the time.
"I'll cook!", said Alfred shooting up from where he was sitting.
"Hey! You heard the story! Let me cook!", pouted Arthur.
"That was ONE meal, Arty.", yelled Alfred from the kitchen.
"Oh, shut up!", growled Arthur, leaving the old pictures to bathe in the light of the fading sun. Truly, photographic memories.
It's over! Had a lot of fun writing this ;) Also, if your wondering, I have this headcanon that any country with a famous band or singer has a really good singing voice XD My next big fanfic is going to be for Homestuck. Yes Homestuck. I love Hetalia AND Homestuck. Sue me XD. Anywhozzle~ Thx for reading and I hope you read my other works ;D