Dart to Date Me?


Alfred: Hey Nat….?

Natalia: What?

Alfred: The store didn't have the movie.

Natalia: I expected as much from you.

Alfred: WAIT! I'M NOT DONE!

Alfred: How about I take you to a movie tonight?

Natalia: Wow, you really are a moron. I already told you that I have duty tonight.

Alfred: Ditch it :D

Natalia: And why would I do that?

Alfred: Because I bought us tickets.

Natalia: For what?

Alfred: You haven't said no yet :P

Natalia: Get on with it Jones.

Alfred: Yes ma'am ;)

Alfred: I got tickets to this cool new action movie :D

Natalia: I like Horror.

Alfred: I like you ;)

Natalia: Even more reason not to go.

Alfred: Please Nat ):

Alfred: Nat?

Natalia: Moron.

Alfred: But I'm still Lovable!

Alfred: Oh, and I'll buy that nasty yogurt thingy that you like.

Natalia: Blueberry frozen yogurt?

Alfred: Ack. All healthy stuff sounds the same to me.

Natalia: Moron.

Alfred: I've bribed you with food and a free ticket...so will you come with me?!

Alfred: Pweease :p?

Natalia: I stand corrected: You're a manipulative Moron.

Alfred: So?

Natalia: Idk.

Alfred: Tell you what, if you don't enjoy it, I'll become your 'slave' for the rest of the year.

Natalia: Deal. I could use a new dartboard.

Alfred: Hey! I already told you that I was going to buy you a new one D:


Cheya's POV:

"Maddie! Come here. Look at this one," I squealed.

Maddie poked her head out of the kitchen and groaned. "Wait, don't tell me. It's another picture of a cat in a Christmas sweater," she mumbled. Well she wasn't wrong. I was waiting for Arthur to come over, so distracting myself with tumblr was the most effective method of wasting time. Besides, it looked like Maddie could use a bit of cheering up right about now. A few minutes ago she had received a mysterious phone call. I had no idea what was going on, since she had gone up into her room so that she could speak in private. The Canadian knew that had she stayed downstairs, I would have listened to every word of her conversation. Albeit her assumption being true, I still felt a bit disgruntled about her lack of trust. What I did know, however, was that the person on the other end of the line knew how to get under Maddie's skin. The Canadian, after her phone call, was quite flustered to say the least.

Ravenously crunching down on a piece of bacon, Maddie restlessly paced back and forth in the kitchen. The Canadian's face filled with dread when she looked at the time on the stove. "Hey!" I protested. "Cats are beautiful creatures. Fools, but still beautiful nonetheless." Maddie's nostrils flared upon checking the time again. I frowned with concern. "Who are you waiting for?" I pried.

Maddie's brows furrowed into an angry scowl. The Canadian's shoulders had tensed in response to my intrusive question.

I raised a brow at my roommate and put on my best mock detective face. "Mysterious guy huh?" I teased.

"It's none of your business!" she snapped, although I couldn't help but notice how her voice wavered, almost as if she herself was unsure as to what she was doing. She looked skeptical, perhaps even doubtful. Maddie avoided my skeptical gaze. The Canadian then started to rummage through the fridge. Ah. She was trying to distract herself with food. Food would act as the outlet for which she could erase her worries and forget about her imminent meeting with this mysterious stranger.

Ignoring my roommate's unexpected outburst, I continued to press on. "Pancake, you shouldn't be so secretive," I scolded, waggling my finger at her as I for once took on the motherly role.

"You're the one to talk," she scoffed. "I'm the only one who knows about you and Arthur. You haven't even told Gilbert or Antonio yet."

I grimaced. Ouch. Way to lay on the guilt trip there Maddie.

For our own safety, Arthur and I had agreed to keep our relationship a secret. Only until after the semester ended would we be allowed to tell anyone about it. It was painful for me to live with this secret. It really was. So badly did I want to tell my friends about him. Well, at least I had been able to tell Bella about Arthur. I had found a loop hole in Arthur's rule of not telling anyone on campus. Regardless, my friends have been a part of my life for so long that anything that I kept from them felt unfair. It was if I was cheating them of their more than well-earned right to know.

I inhaled deeply through my nostrils and closed my eyes. Maddie was only flustered. I would do no good if I were to snap back at her.

"To be fair, my friend Bella knows about our relationship," I countered. Maddie winced under my scolding glare. "And you know that what we're doing is for the best. If the wrong person found out, we'd both be in trouble."

"I know," Maddie sighed. "Arthur won't let me hear the end of it either."

"Pancake, I can't even kiss the boy in public without him smacking me over the head."

Maddie seemed to perk up at that thought. "I'd like to see that," she grinned.

"Careful oh timid one, I may or may not eat the rest of the maple syrup when you're gone," I threatened.

"Now I really don't want to go!" Maddie wailed. Curling her hands into fists, Maddie eyed the wall, her lips pursed into a tight grimace as she began to bang her head against the plastered surface. I'll admit, it was a pretty sore sight to see. It was obvious that something was bothering her, and judging by how jittery she was acting right now, coaxing her into talking to me wasn't going to be an easy task.

"Hey, I'm sure that you'll be fine with whatever you're planning to do tonight," I whispered. Right now I had to tread carefully. I had to choose my words wisely. After all, I had a disconcerted roommate to console. Amber eyes met wide violet ones. I walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. "Spill," I demanded.

Shrinking away from my analytical gaze, Maddie fidgeted with the strings of her Toronto Maple Leaf Hoodie. "Erm, let's just say that this guy is called 'Fritz'. Well Fritz is offering to tutor me for... 'educational' purposes," Maddie paused in her ramblings when she noticed my perverted grin. "Certainly NOT in the way that you're thinking of!" The Canadian huffed when I let out a suggestive moan.

"Oh, Maple! Right there baby," I swooned. I leaned on the counter for support and cupped my (non-existent) breasts with both hands.

"I wouldn't suggest doing that in front of Arthur," Maddie giggled. "The second hand embarrassment would probably kill him." I smiled. My friends gloomy demeanor had finally lifted. The Canadian's eyes sparkled with amusement and her chest shook with bubbly fits of laughter.

"Don't forget about the nosebleed," I added, also giggling. I then flashed Maddie with a provocative wink. "I'm pretty sexy, you know."

With a sigh, Maddie leaned against the fridge. The Canadian's shoulders slumped. "I'm just surprised that you've put up with him after everything that he did."

"Don't worry. I make sure to tease the hell out of him for it."

"Well, at least you can stand up to him," Maddie whined. " 'Fritz' loves to bug me."

"Bug him back."

Maddie gave me an incredulous look. "That would only encourage the asshole."

Bumping hips with Maddie playfully, and by playfully I mean slam into her with every ounce of strength that a 5'2 100 pound girl could muster, I pinned the squirming Canadian against the fridge. "Beat the boy!" I cried.

Face still squished up against the side of the fridge, I heard Maddie mumble a string of incoherent curse words. Probably something like, "Maple! That darn French woman is crazy!"

"Cheya?"

"Hmmmm?"

"If I tell you, will you get off?

Peeling myself off of the trembling Canadian, I waved a dismissive hand at her. "I already knew that you were lying pancake. But do yourself a favour; don't let 'Fritz' get under your skin. You're above that. Now go before I relent and pester you for more information."

Maddie nervously bit her lip. "We're not supposed to meet for another half hour or so and I don't want him to get the wrong idea about me being eager for..." The Canadian's brows furrowed with strained contemplation. She was clearly choked for words."…our tutoring sessions," Maddie finished with a wince.

"Honey, Arthur's going to be here any minute, do you really want to stick around?"

"God no. The amount of times that I've caught you two making out…"

"What can I say" I beamed. "The French love to express themselves."

"They also have no sense of decency," the Canadian grumbled to herself.


Cheya's POV:

A grumpy Briton sat to next to me on the couch. Said grumpy arse's hands furiously scribbled across the stack of history papers that he had taken upon to mark. Other than the occasional scoff or irritated pen clicking, the room was silent. Tiringly so too.

I stared at Arthur, smirking when I our eyes met. Wearing nothing but a frilly pair of booty shorts and a low cut spaghetti shirt, I arched my back. My eyes never wavered from Arthur's shrewd stare. I pouted my lips and sighed. Face flushing to an adorable shade of red, Arthur averted his gaze to the ground. His gentlemen instincts must have kicked in. He was sparing me from being ogled at. But he wasn't fooling me any time soon. I saw passion flicker in those green eyes of his, however brief, before he quickly retained his scowling composure.

I reached out a hand to stroke his cheek bone. "You know, you've been marking those papers for a long time now," I pouted. Arthur's facial muscles tensed at my touch. Merde. Did he ever drive me crazy. His hair, perfect in its messy glory, fell just above his eyebrows. I felt the sudden urge to smooth it back. "There," I declared. "Now I can see your eyes!"

All I received was a cold glare. Oh. How silly of me. He was still mad over the fact that Maddie had left. Since she was his cousin, people wouldn't get suspicious if he visited, but now that we were alone, Arthur was worried about getting caught. I retracted my arm and shuffled over to the end of the couch. I decided to give him some space to cool off. "Call me over you decide to lighten up," I huffed.

No answer.

"I guess that I'll just have to talk to myself then." "Hey Cheya how are you?" "I'm good and you Cheya?"

"Pretty good, just a little frustrated with my 'handsome' boyfriend." "Oh no! What happened?"

"Nothing really just—"

Without even looking at me, Arthur clamped a hand over my mouth. My one man conversation had been halted. "Just shut up," he growled. Arthur's hands snapped back to his side when I stopped with my erratic mumbling.

"Arthur, look at me!" I pouted but to no avail. I crawled over to the Briton and leaned against his side. I purred as I brushed my lips against the tips of his now reddening ears. "Please?" I cooed. When he didn't answer, I pecked his cheek, hoping to rouse a reaction out of him, even if it was an angry one.

It worked.

"Bloody hell Cheya. I'm trying to work," he complained, although the dark look in his eyes said otherwise. Arthur's stubborn facial expression softened. The Briton's shoulders relaxed with the defeat of allowing me to kiss his cheek again. But I wasn't going to let him have it so easy. Oh no. He was going to have work for it.

I stood up from the couch and pulled my hair out of its pigtails. For good measure, I ran a hand through my hair. I lived to tease him, after all. "Fine," I scoffed. "I'm getting something to eat."

In an instant, Arthur latched onto my wrist. The Briton pulled me towards him and I fell, ungracefully, into his lap. My hair fell into my face. Thankfully too because it was burning with the intensity of a fierce blush. I shied away from Arthur, hopelessly stuck as I tried to free myself from the Briton's firm grasp. "A-Arthur, the papers are getting all bent."

Arthur chuckled darkly. "Silly French woman, that's the least of my worries right now," he murmured. I stared into those abysmal green eyes of his, getting lost in the triumphant smirk that he now held on his lips. The Briton cupped my face and pulled me in for a kiss. I relented and began to kiss back. I sighed and ran my hands through his hair. Arthur's hands wandered closer to my waist. The Briton chuckled when I let out a high-pitched squeak of surprise.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Ack!" I stumbled off of Arthur and fell to the ground with a painful smack. "Hide!" I hissed. Arthur dove behind the couch, while our 'uninvited guest' started to fumble with the door knob.

"MADDIE? OPEN UP, IT'S AN EMERGENCY!" a loud voice bellowed from the other side of the door.

My eyebrows furrowed into a frown. Was this the 'Fritz' that Maddie was talking about?

I sprinted over to the door and peered through the peephole. "ALFRED?!" I screamed. Arthur poked his head out of his hiding place. "What the fuck is he doing here?" he mouthed. I frowned. I wasn't fluent in angry British sign language.

"CHEYA? YOU LIVE HERE?"

"U-Um yeah?"

"IS MADDIE HERE?"

"N-no, but I can take a message if you like," I offered in a suspiciously cheerful voice.

"CAN I COME IN?"

"I'm kind of busy right now…."

"I DON'T CARE. I NEED HELP. ANYONE WOULD DO." I looked to Arthur who was still waving furiously at me. The Briton's eyes widened in fear. He knew what I was about to do.

"Don't!" he cried, but it was already too late.

Opening the door slowly, I peered into the hallway. Dressed in his usual bomber jacket and baggy jeans, stood a frantic looking Alfred. His hair was more mussed up than usual and his glasses stood askew on the bridge of his nose.

"Thanks. Can I come in?" Regardless of what my answer was, Alfred barged into my apartment.

"KIRKLAND?!"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT JONES?" Arthur growled back.

"MERDE!" I cried. I ran into the living room and jutted out my arms. I had placed myself in between the feuding cousins.

Looking over my shoulder, Alfred glared at the equally furious Briton. "And just what the fuck are you doing here?"

Arthur tried to skirt around me. I held him in place by grabbing onto his wrist. I made sure to dig my nails deep into his skin. I would gain his compliance much easier that way. "I could ask you the same question," the Briton retorted.

Incredulous, Alfred took of his glasses and cleaned them. A pair of cerulean eyes glowered at me. In all honesty, I was confused too, but the adrenaline of getting caught was still pumping through my veins. My survival instincts had kicked in. I stood my ground and confronted Alfred with an unwavering glare.

Glowering silence.

I sighed. "Now can we talk like civilized people for two min—"

"Look, I can be civilized all you want, but as for this git," Arthur pointed an accusatory finger at a fuming Alfred. "He can't even—"

Alfred's chest puffed up with anger. "FUCK YOU TOO KIRKLAND!"

"ENOUGH!" I raged. I was panting. All of my energy had been depleted. That's what I get for trying to shout over those two idiots. "You," I jabbed a finger into Alfred's chest. "Need to calm the fuck down." I turned around to face a smug looking Arthur. "And you need to stop provoking him like that. Now go sit on the couch before I strangle you both myself."

"B-BUT" the two cousins spluttered in mutually bashful harmony.

"NOW!" I roared.

Alfred crossed his arms and scowled. "Nah, I'd rather stay here," he huffed. Alfred gave me a sheepish look when I shifted my glare to him. The American accepted his defeat and took a few steps back. Alfred cleared his throat. His eyes darted back and forth across the room. He refused to look me in the eyes. "I'll behave, if he behaves."

Sitting on the couch, the Briton straightened himself into an indignant looking pose. Arthur chuckled. "Why how gentlemanly of you," he remarked with thick sarcasm.

"WHAT DID I SAY ARTHUR?"

"Sorry Love."

"I'm sorry, but did the tea douche just call you love?" With a sickening crunch, the American cracked his knuckles. Alfred loomed over me and scowled. He then looked past my shoulder so that he could aim another rebellious look at Arthur.

"Yes, Alfred we're dating," I stated nonchalantly, brushing off the comment as if I could bring ease to the situation. I was clearly delusional.

"Oh," Alfred inhaled deeply though his nostrils. He was clearly unsatisfied with my answer. "Well, if he does anything stupid, just let me know. I'll be more than happy to strangle him for you," he grumbled.

I turned around to look at Arthur. As expected, the Briton had his mouth open, prepared to usher out another rebuttal. Arthur grudgingly kept his silence when I glowered at him.

"Good boy," I cooed to the disgruntled Briton.

"Aww! You tamed him," Alfred exclaimed. The American's foul mood had shifted back to its residually cheerful state.

"Not quite. He's still a bit of an ass sometimes," I giggled. "But I make do. So, what brought you here Alfred?"

Alfred scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously. "Well, er, I made a little wager with Natalia. She agreed to go on a date with me, but only on one condition: if she doesn't enjoy it, I have to become her slave."

"Aren't you already her slave?" Arthur asked with a smirk.

"It's something called free will fairy boy," Alfred snapped. "Anyways, I came here for some advice, but since Maddie's not here, and since you guys just started dating, perhaps you could help me?" Feet tapping against the ground and eyes wide as saucers, Alfred anxiously awaited my answer. He didn't look at all like the confident boy that I had come to know.

I pursed my lips and analyzed the desperate looking boy standing in front of me. The American's shoulders slumped with defeat. He bit his lip. The apprehension of a potentially doomed date was hanging over his conscience. "Alfred, when's the date?" I inquired.

"In about an hour or so!"

"Perfect!" I grinned. "We'll come on the date and shadow you. How does that sound?"

Alfred clapped a hand over my shoulder. I stifled my wince. "GREAT! See you then," he beamed.

"Don't I get any say in this?" Arthur protested.

"Nope!" I cackled.


Natalia's POV:

Sitting alone in the dorm's lounge, Natalia absently played with a dart in her hands. Her fingers brushed over it impatiently. She was waiting for Alfred to pick her up for their date. After a year and a half of rejecting the American, stomping over him, insulting him, degrading him, and God knows what else, Natalia tried to sympathize with him. She really did. But she just couldn't bring herself to understand him. He had always forgiven her. He brushed off her crudeness. He wasn't fazed by her vulgarity. And he most certainly wasn't intimidated by her violent tendencies. This irked her. Everything about him annoyed her. The wickedly sweet grin that he always wore on his face. His voice. His height. Everything.

But today, the Belarusian had decided to give in to the American's pestering. She had never hated him. She could even consider him to be a friend. But this didn't mean that she trusted him entirely. A small part of her had always been skeptical of the American for she feared that he would turn out to be no different than anyone else. She was afraid of growing closer to him. Never again did she want to feel the back stabbing pain of abandonment.

When her mother had passed away in her final year of high school, the Belarusian let herself succumb to the temptation of isolation. She only left her house when it was absolutely necessary. Those who she had thought to be her friends never visited her. Not even once. At school, they avoided her as if she had some sort of demon hanging over her shoulder. It was then that the Belarusian decided that she didn't need any friends. They had failed her in the time that she had needed them most. Devoid of attachments, Natalia could finally live in peace. She would no longer have to face the crushing blows of disappointment once more. Life was much simpler. She didn't have nearly as much people to deal with as before. Natalia found a new rhythm to her life, one that focused on herself and herself only...that is, until she met Alfred.

Originally, Natalia had ignored the American. She hadn't had high hopes for him. She had always assumed that he would lose interest in her over time. However, much to her chagrin, this was not the case. Upon thorough analysis and many trials of ordeals, those of which were mainly beatings, the Belarusian's suspicions were proven to be quite false. Odd as it was, the boy truly cared about her. His eyes would always widen with excitement whenever he asked her a question, grinning like a fool despite the curt, boorish answers that she always would give to him in return. Perhaps this was why the Belarusian had agreed to go out on a date with him in the first place. He had always been so patient with her, and for this, Natalia felt indebted to him.

Natalia's phone buzzed in her pocket. Speak of the moronic devil himself: I'm in the elevator yo :D

Sighing, Natalia grabbed her purse. The Belarusian ran a frustrated hand through her hair. A night full of Alfred's childish ploys awaited her. With a sharp ding, the elevator door opened. A more than ecstatic Alfred stepped into the lounge. The American's jaws gaped open in awe as his eyes took in the sight of the dolled up Belarusian. "Nat, you look absolutely beautiful!" he blushed.

The Belarusian frowned. "Let's just get this over with," she said dully. Without a second glance, Natalia pushed past Alfred and stepped into the elevator. Like a lost puppy trailing after his master, Alfred followed her lead. The American was in a giddy state. He couldn't keep still. His feet tapped against the ground and his lips curled into its residual moronic smile.

Natalia scowled. He could at least be a little more subtle, she thought to herself.

Alfred cleared his throat. Natalia's lips twitched. "Yes, Alfred?"

"Oh-uh nothing," the flustered American stammered.

"Let me guess," Natalia mused. "We're stopping at McDonald's on the way to the theatre, right?"

Alfred chest puffed up in mock offense. The Belarusian's jab at his appetite was light-hearted at best. The American raised a brow at the placated Belarusian. "NAT! Have some faith in me, please. I'd never take you there on a date," he scoffed.

"Besides, I already ate four big macs before I got here," he muttered to himself.


Cheya's POV:

Tickets in hand, I smirked as I watched my boyfriend try to conceal himself behind the concession stand. The Briton's feet tapped against the ground impatiently as he waited for me at our designated meeting place. Eyebrows furrowed into a frown, Arthur stepped out from his hiding place. His shoulders hunched inward as he slowly crept forward. The way that Arthur had his black hoodie pulled over his face made him look like a sketchy drug dealer, and for that, I had to laugh. Catching my eye, Arthur urgently motioned for me to hurry on over to him. Urgency quickly turned to irritation when he heard my giggles. I didn't even try to stifle them.

"What?!" he asked in an exasperated tone.

"Oh nothing," I snickered as I handed over his wallet. "They didn't have change, so I had to pay with my debit card."

This only seemed to agitate Arthur further. "Bullshit. You just paid for them anyways, didn't you?" he growled. Damn. He caught me. But it was only fair! He kept spoiling me with treats every day. I had to compensate for his stubborn, old fashioned form of generosity somehow.

"Fine," I sighed. "If you want to be a gentlemen so badly, why don't you use your eyebrow hair to make me a sweater or something? This T-shirt isn't very warm."

A suspiciously sweet grin etched its way onto Arthur's face. "Come here," he cooed to me in a soft voice.

I backed away. "No thanks," I shrugged. I practically tripped over my feet. Arthur continued to stalk towards me.

"Oh and why not?" the Briton purred as he shamelessly used his height advantage to loom over me. Staring into the Briton's murderous green eyes, I gulped. I knew that I was a goner. "Arthur! Mmmmph!" Arthur's lips crashed onto mine. I had been silenced. The Briton forced open my mouth and his tongue immediately gained the upper hand. After all, he did have the element of surprise on his side.

"OW!" I protested. "Did you just bite my lip?!"

Arthur, the bastard, enlightened me with a cheeky smirk. "Serves you right, love."


Alfred's POV:

The American sighed, his shoulders slumped as he slouched on the bench lying on the outskirts of the theater's arcade. Natalia had gone to the washroom, so the Hero had been stuck with the task of waiting for her. The American's legs shook with impatience as he ruminated over every possible way that he could impress the Belarusian when she got back. If she ever came back...

Upon hearing the familiar clack of pumped heels, a wide grin returned to the American's face. His face flushed as his attraction to her fluttered deep within the pits of his stomach. Her long platinum blonde hair was tied back into a tight pony tail, which graciously compliments her well rounded cheekbones. The Belarusian's long, sleek legs were adorned in promiscuously tight nylons. Alfred's eyes roamed up and down her thinly framed figure. He appreciated that fact that she had chosen to wear a simple blue and black plaid skirt as opposed to the skin tight skinny jeans that she usually wore. After all, a Hero could only handle so much! The American swallowed, his Adam's apple bulging. Natalia clacked over to him. Lips curling into a jeering smirk, Natalia cocked her head in the direction of the concession stand. "Are you sure that you don't want anything to eat...Alfred?" she taunted.

The American's stomach let out a traitorous growl in response to the Belarusian's tactfully sneaky suggestion. Even though Natalia couldn't hear said traitorous growl over the theater's idle chatter, Alfred's disgruntled demeanor told her everything that she needed to know. Squirming under the Belarusian's smoldering glare, Alfred decided to laugh off her ruse. She was testing his patience by provoking him. She was desperate to grasp onto anything that she could hold against him. But Alfred had prepared himself for this. Natalia had a tendency to lash out at others. She spited and intimidated people until they left her alone. Alfred watched, helplessly, as the Belarusian's body tensed up with unease. Years of riddling mistrust and doubt had caused her to shy away from him. Alfred grit his teeth. He needed to make her feel more comfortable.

Alfred stood up and purposefully banged his knee into corner of the bench. The American's eyes watered with pain. A wry smile curled onto the Belarusian's face.

"See! You're smiling Nat!" he beamed. "That means that you must be enjoying yourself!"

Natalia crossed her arms and let out an indignant huff. "The date hasn't even started yet, moron."

The American chuckled. Genuine laughter spilled from his lips. The Belarusian pouted her lips into an adorable scowl. Alfred, after making subtle eye contact and gaining her permission, clasped the Belarusian's hand into his own. "We still have some time to kill before the movie starts." The American started to tow the Belarusian in the direction of the arcade. "How about we play some air hockey?" he suggested.

Natalia raised a skeptical brow. "Are you sure that you aren't hungry?" she inquired with an all-knowing smirk. The Belarusian, with her free hand, pointed towards the concession stand. The American's empty stomach curdled with another painful growl. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils. The buttery and tempting smell of popcorn indulged his senses. It was practically begging to be eaten. Alfred's eyes lingered over the concession stand. He spared it a longing gaze. Drool formed on the corners of his lips. He was entranced and his hunger was slowly taking over any form of self-control that he had managed to compose himself with.

A person in a black hoodie walked in front of Alfred's view of the candy bar. The man looked up, revealing a familiar pair of bushy eyebrows, messy blond hair, and a stiff upper lip. Alfred cussed under his breath.

Damn that idiot. He's going to fuck up everything.

Alfred tugged on Natalia's hand, quickly steered her in the other direction, and laughed all the while doing so. "HAHAHA! A hero can live for days without a full belly," he declared. The American's grip on the Belarusian's hand tightened as he rushed her into the arcade. Alfred led his date to a nearby air hockey table. Natalia gave him a questioning stare. "Well are you going to show me how to play or not?" she asked with a slight amount of shyness to her voice. The Belarusian averted her gaze to the ground.

"Yup! Just give me a second." Bending down into a crouch, Alfred placed a few quarters into the slot located at the side of the air hockey table. "It's pretty easy!" the American picked up the mallet from the table and held it up for the Belarusian to see. "You use this to slam the puck into my goal line." Alfred demonstrated a few swiping motions for her.

A curious expression carved its way onto Natalia's face. Holding her own mallet in her hands, the Belarusian's eyes gleamed with a peaking interest. Natalia reached over the table and grabbed the disc shaped puck. She examined it with slender fingers. Her brows furrowed into a frown. She was attempting to grasp the concept of the game. It didn't take her long to figure it out, however. Stifling her smile, Natalia walked over to the other end of the air hockey table.

Alfred cleared his throat. "Ready?" Natalia's lilac eyes lit up with a competitive flare. Her hands began to twitch with anticipation. She was lively, animated, and determined. Jaw set into a taut grimace, Alfred confronted the Belarusian with an equally determined glare. The American's face curled into a chivalrous smile as he swiped the puck over to her side of the table. "Ladies first."

PLUNK.

The American blinked. The sound of defeat roared in his ears when he looked down and numbly pulled the puck out of his goal slot. Natalia jumped up and down on the balls of her feet, looking quite pleased with herself. The Belarusian revelled in her brief moment of victory. "Did I do it right?" she beamed. The Belarusian's eyes never left the score board that now read 1:0.

Alfred grit his teeth. "Yes ma'am, you most certainly did," he growled. Chest swelling up with a competitive valor, Alfred jabbed a dramatic finger in the ecstatic Belarusian's direction. "GAME ON BRAGINSKI."

The Belarusian's triumphant cry was interrupted when the puck whipped across the table. The familiar ping against the plastic was music to the American's ears. Alfred cocked his head to the side in a mirthful manner. Natalia's face contorted into a glower. Red lips pouted, Natalia frowned. "Fuck you, Jones," she jeered.

"Can't handle the game huuuuuuh?" the American teased with a swaggering smirk.

Grinning from ear to ear, Alfred laughed once more. Happiness ballooned throughout his entire body. Natalia, on the other hand, stomped her feet against the ground. She was more than frustrated. She was livid. Lips now curling into a wicked smile, Natalia plucked the puck into her hands and placed it onto the table. The Belarusian then rolled up the sleeves to her black, cable knitted sweater. "Lucky shot," she huffed. "Now get ready. I'm about to give it my all."

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't have it any other way."


Cheya's POV:

I reached over my chair to steal some of Arthur's popcorn. The Briton had a serious look on his face. I snickered. Arthur's nose had scrunched up into an adorable frown. His attention was focused on the celebrity movie quiz displayed on the screen.

Arthur smacked my hand away. "Oi! The commercials haven't even started yet. Ugh, are you done yours already?" he whined.

"Keep it down," I hissed. "Natalia might recognize your voice." Even though we were sitting near the top of the theatre, far from Natalia and Alfred's location in the middle, I didn't want to take any chances. Alfred needed me, the all famous love expert, to help him and I couldn't do that if my cover was blown.

"They're not talking much," Arthur remarked.

Mon dieu, Arthur was right. On top of not speaking to each other, Natalia leaned far away from Alfred. To my utmost horror, the Belarusian had taken to scrolling through her phone.

What was Alfred thinking?! Talk to her damnit?!

Horrified I pulled out my phone and texted Alfred: Meet me by the concession stand….NOW!


Cheya's POV:

I leaned against the side of the concession stand. My fingers tapped against the glass surface impatiently as I waited for Alfred. "Cheya!" a voice bellowed to my right. I turned around and glared at the wild-eyed and slightly panting American.

The overwhelming smell of McDonald's attacked my nostrils. I took a few steps back. I gagged when my stomach churned uncomfortably. Ignorant to my disgust, Alfred pulled out a burger from his jacket pocket and began to eat. The American devoured the burger in two quick, ravenous bites. "Sorry," he swallowed. "I didn't want to pig out in front of her."

Aw. If I wasn't so disgusted by the smell of grease, I would have been touched.

"Alfred," I groaned. "What happened? I haven't seen you guys talk to each other once."

Alfred pulled out a jumbo sized chocolate milkshake from thin air. Irritating slurping sounds filled the void between us. "Well," the American took another massive guzzle out his drink. "We played air hockey and she got mad when I slipped the puck into her net after the..."

SLURP!

"…timer went off," he finished. The American crumpled up his garbage and tossed it into a nearby garbage can.

I facepalmed. "Alfred! You're supposed to let a girl win when you're on a date," I scolded.

"But you don't get it," he wailed. "Nat hates it when I go easy on her!"

"That doesn't excuse the fact that you cheated!"

Alfred's shoulders slumped with defeat. "You're right. What should I do?"

I grabbed Alfred's shirt and reeled him in closer. "WHO ARE YOU?" I bellowed.

"C-cheya?"

"I SAID, WHO ARE YOU?" I repeated.

The beginnings of a grin crept onto the American's face. "Alfred Jones," he whispered.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"ALFRED JONES," he bellowed back.

"Much better!" I beamed. "Now you're going to go in there…"

The American gave me a formal salute. "Yes ma'am."

"And you're going to apologize."

"Yes ma'am."

"And you're going to hold her close."

Eyes widening with surprise, the American choked. Pieces of chewed up burger flew in all directions. "Y-yes ma'am?"


Natalia's POV:

Natalia indulged herself with another spoonful of blue berry frozen yogurt. The Belarusian had her eyes fixated on the screen, surprised, but still nonetheless enjoying the amount of violence that had been packed into this senseless movie. She didn't understand what was going on, nor did she truly care. However, the only thing that truly bothered her was the fact that Alfred hadn't said one word to her during the course of the entire movie. The American just sat there in silence. He caught her eye every so often and smiled. But that was it. He didn't make any attempts to tease or provoke her. The Belarusian found this to be unnerving.

Is he not interested in me anymore?

Natalia turned and tapped Alfred on the shoulder. "Do you like the movie?" she whispered.

Alfred's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yeah, I do!" he whispered, perhaps a little too loudly as he had earned himself a fair amount of shushes from people sitting in nearby rows. Stifling a grin, Natalia reached over to grab her water bottle from their seats shared cup holder. The Belarusian gasped when she brushed hands with the American. Alfred too had reached out to grab his drink. In a flash, Natalia's hand snapped back to her side. Her face burned with embarrassment and she averted her gaze to the other side of the theater. She was worried that Alfred would see her blush despite the dark lighting of the theater.

"Ah! Nat, your hands are freezing!" the American frowned. Natalia's throat constricted with a new found wariness. She swallowed and hoped to suppress the hollow feeling that had now pitted itself in her stomach. "S-sorry," the Belarusian muttered.

"That's OK!" Alfred talk-whispered. "I have an idea." Alfred shuffled in his seat. The American then leaned in closer to the Belarusian. Natalia's eyes widened with uncertainty. His breath tickled her nose. She shivered. "W-what are you doing, moron?" She quipped. Natalia gasped when Alfred grabbed her hand. "There," he murmured. The American rubbed her hand. "Geez Nat. You must have poor circulation," he remarked.

After warming up her right hand, Alfred moved on to her left. The American's warm, large hands cushioned hers once more. "How's that?" he asked.

Natalia's feet curled in her shoes. Alfred continued to rub her hands. He hummed under his breath and murmured soft words to her as if she were a small child. It was strange, yet oddly comforting at the same time. "Just fine, thank you" she said in a curt voice.

"Awesome," he grinned. "Well, there you go." Alfred let go of her hand. Natalia numbly let her hand fall back onto her lap. The warmth and comfort that she had felt before was now gone. The American edged away from her and went back to watching the movie. Numb to what she was doing, Natalia raised her hand. Her fingers itched to tap the American on the shoulder once more. Lowering her hand, the Belarusian decided to clear her throat instead. "Alfred?"

The American turned his head. His cowlick enthusiastically bobbed up and down. "Yes Nat?" he purred out in a gravelly tone.

Natalia looked at her feet. She silently berated herself for her impulsive behaviour. "Um, never mind. It's not that important."

"Aw come on," he pressed. "It can't be that bad."

"Um, well. People on dates hold hands...right?"

In a rare moment of brilliance, Alfred caught on to Natalia's chaste implication. His cerulean eyes gleamed with elation. He had finally connected the dots to the Belarusian's desires. "Hell yeah they do!" Once more, the American was shushed. Alfred ignored the silent glares that were aimed at him from all directions.

Alfred held out his hand to Natalia. "Come on, I won't bite," the American smirked.

"Shut it Jones," the Belarusian scoffed. Natalia bit her lip. Her hand trembled as she let it fall into the American's outstretched palm. She closed her eyes and inhaled. She took deep and relaxing breaths. The Belarusian was secretly relieved. No longer would she let herself keel under the unbearable weight of doubt and mistrust.


Cheya's POV:

Mindful of giving the newly made couple some privacy, I restricted my snooping to two glances a minute. After all, a good love detective always reaffirms the progress of their matches. My heart leapt with pure joy. Well it was either that or shock. Probably a bit of both. Natalia and Alfred huddled together in close proximity with one another. The Belarusian's head rested against the crook of the American's neck. Their bodies became one as they snuggled in to finish the rest of the movie.

I tapped a bored looking Arthur on the shoulder. "See?!" I pointed. "That's how you romance." I shamelessly watched Alfred caress Natalia's hair in gentle, sweeping strokes.

"So you want me to treat you like a pet?" the Briton countered.

"You're just jealous of my handy work," I pouted.

"You literally talked to him for two minutes. He did most of this on his own."

"Arthur?"

"What?"

"I have a tweezer in my makeup bag. Don't make me pull it out."


Natalia's POV:

Exhausted from her date, Natalia plopped herself down on the dorm lounge's couch. The Belarusian gratefully kicked off her heels. With a great jump, Alfred too joined her on the couch. The American wrapped an arm around her shoulders and reeled her in closer. Gasping out of shock, Natalia found her face pressed up against the American's firm chest. Muffled half-hearted growls of protest was the Belarusian's response. "Looks like the big bad Belarusian isn't so bad after all," Alfred chuckled. "You're actually pretty nice when your not, you know, slamming me face first into a concrete wall."

SLAP!

Clutching his sore cheek with one hand and fingering long strands of blonde hair with the other, Alfred sighed. The American's breath caused the hairs on the back of the Belarusian's neck to stand up. "I reckon that I deserved that," he murmured.

Natalia tucked her head under Alfred's chin. "Stupid American," she cursed.

"Huh?"

"You were supposed to be my slave, now look at me," the Belarusian grumbled.

Alfred tightened his arms around Natalia's thin frame. He cradled her. "I win," he whispered. The American then rubbed his nose against the Belarusian's cheek.

~"You win this battle Braginski. But mark my words the hero will always triumph over the villain."~


Cheya's POV:

We got back to campus at around midnight. Arthur had let me borrow his sweater again, which, of course, only meant trouble. I zoomed around the sidewalk, over sized sleeves flapping. I was pretending to be an air plane. Childish? Yeah. Did I care? Not at all.

"The slapping sleeve strikes back!" I cried as I proceeded to pummel a disgruntled Arthur with another round of harmless sleeve slaps. Arthur's hair, in turn, became much more mussed up than usual. His face, in response to my childishness, blossomed into a beautifully angry shade of red. "Stop it!" he shouted. The Briton was clearly unamused by my playful banter.

I stopped in front of Arthur. I raised my make shift sleeve weapon in a threatening manner. A mischievous grin tugged on the corner of my lips. I guess you could say that I dabbled in humouring with the furious Briton. "Hello old friend," I talked to the sleeve. "Would you like to caress his face once more?"

Arthur glared at me. "DON'T YOU DAR-"

SLAP.

"CHEYA, LISTEN TO-"

SLAP

"FOR FUCKS-"

SLAP.

"MMPH!"

SLAP.

I paused to give Arthur a breather. Death via sleeve didn't sound like a very pleasant way to die. Arthur's hands began to twitch and I kid you not, his cat-like eyes actually began to glow in the dark. The Briton stomped towards me with a murderous look on his face.

"Arthur I was just kidding hehe~, ACK!" Suddenly, I found myself hanging upside down. My pig tails swished in the balance of the cool evening wind. I was utterly helpless to the strength of the glowering Briton.

Now why did this seem so familiar….?

"Are you going to apologize?" he asked.

"Nope!" I giggled.

"And why not?!" he fumed.

"Because I'm having a good time. Why would I want to apologize for that?"

Arthur set me down on my feet. "Can't argue with that logic," he mumbled.

Arm in arm, the couple walked on, unaware to the fact that a shaded figure lurked in the bushes, fuming as they took out their phone to snap a picture.