Author's Note: Okay, first of all, Belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone. Thanks to all those who read my story and gave me 175 Reviews, 165 Favs and 185 Alerts and last but definitely not the least to 779 Hits (or 23,518 Hits according to the legacy version). It gives me inspiration to write for all of you lovely people.
Thanks for being patient with me through and through. I know I have a lot of stories to finish, but it seems that I have to do one story at a time or I lose my momentum so here is Chapter 11.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
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Alfred turned away from him, facing the balcony. "But I have to say this to you and you're probably going to hate me." He faced Arthur and there was a soft, resigned smile on his face that broke Arthur's heart all the more. "I love you, Arthur. I always have."
"Alfred… I…," Arthur started but no words would come out. He looked away from the American's beseeching blue eyes, taking a deep breath and worrying his bottom lip. He just didn't know what to say and it hurt him even more not knowing how to possibly ease Alfred's pain, that no matter how tactfully or gently he told his former charge his feelings, it would not make it any less.
But he could not bear lying to him or sparing his feelings and giving him false hope, especially about this. He took another deep breath and thought how best to put his words. He met Alfred's gaze earnestly with his own, saying the words softly but firmly. "I'll never be able to hate you, you silly lad… I love you, Alfred, just not in the way you want me to."
He approached slowly and laid a warm, comforting hand on Alfred's cheek, smiling softly, gently. There was no pity in his verdant eyes only acceptance and understanding and Alfred thanked him for that, albeit in his mind. He could deal with anger and fury but not pity. Definitely not pity.
"I know," Alfred murmured, leaning into the warm, gentle hand on his cheek. "Just had to tell you, you know. Probably get you to change your mind or something." He chuckled but, to Arthur, it sounded like he was going to cry. "Like one of those chick flicks where you suddenly realize that you love me back and you'll jump into my arms and we'll live happily ever after."
"I'm sorry, Alfred," Arthur said, rubbing his thumb across smooth skin that hadn't truly changed since he was a young boy.
The American shook his head, attempting a smile. It was shaky and small but it was a start and brought an answering smile from Arthur. "I'm okay. It hurts like hell but I'm gonna be okay as long as I can stay near you, that I can still be your friend."
"You'll always be my friend, you know that. Even if you are sometimes an idiot and you are rarely punctual," he joked, earning a happy, teary laugh from his former charge.
"Yeah, and you're a stubborn, old man with an Obsessive- Compulsive Disorder," Alfred shot back, laughing when the Englishman promptly slugged him in the arm. "You started it, Iggy!"
"And so we are back to insults," Arthur snorted, playfully crossing his hands over his chest and mock- glaring at the cheeky boy. "You and Ivan are not as different as you both think. You two have these irritating habits of teasing me to the roots of my hair and treating me as if I'm a girl."
Arthur immediately regretted saying the words when Alfred became solemn yet again despite his efforts at making him laugh.
"Do you love him, Iggy?" he asked, his intense blue eyes boring into Arthur's startled green ones.
Arthur blinked. Did he actually love Ivan? He didn't know, at least, not now. They had agreed to take things slowly and they hadn't talked about defining or labeling whatever it was they had. But he had to admit that he loved the way Ivan made him feel safe in his arms, the way he laughed and smiled genuinely when it was only the two of them, the look in his face when he had yet to tell Arthur what Zain'ka meant and the warmth in his violet eyes every time he purred it at Arthur at every opportunity and made him blush to the roots of his hair. He loved the normalcy and peace of reading piles of documents with each other in the silence, sitting close together and drawing comfort from each other. He loved it when Ivan kissed him, too, because he didn't take more than what Arthur was willing to give and he was a fantastic kisser. Hell, he even grudgingly admitted to himself that he liked Ivan's body. More than like, really, but no one needed to know that besides Arthur himself.
But did it actually mean that he loved Ivan or quite possibly be in love with him? He didn't know. He wasn't certain at all. But he was sure it was somehow going there because the Russian had already made a place in his heart because odd as it was, Ivan made him feel happy and cared for.
It was getting confusing again. But he'd figure it out when the time comes— he and Ivan would figure it out together.
"I don't know," he said, turning his eyes to the sky. "But I'm not opposed to the idea. We've decided to see where we go and take it from there."
He could feel Alfred's gaze on him and heard his sigh. "Alright, I think I kinda get it. I'll take your word for it. But if he hurts you or makes you cry, I'd nuke him so bad, he won't know his head from his ass."
"You are an incorrigible idiot."
"Yeah, but you love me. No taking back what you just said."
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Ivan followed Canada absently, half curious about what the usually timid nation wanted to speak to him about and half wary about what America was doing with Arthur. He had some idea about Canada calling him out but America was somewhat different. The look in the North American nation's eyes was hard and determined and in the depths of those blue eyes, he could see deep-seated pain. He knew that America had always loved England and not in an innocent way. It was obvious to everyone but the island nation.
Of course, back then, he didn't really care for America; much less England so whatever they did hadn't bothered him at all. Now, it was different. Try as he might to calm himself, he couldn't help worrying. He knew, of course, that his worrying was also his own fault as he had consented to the American taking England away. Still, it did not erase the fact that the American might be discouraging their budding relationship (or was it just friendship? Nyet, but to say it was not friendship would be untrue. They were learning to be friends and a lot more, he supposed) from being what it should be and stealing England away in all his flashy glory.
He looked at his gloved hand and could almost feel England's warmth clinging to him, comforting him. He hoped that whatever he and England shared was stronger than America's influence and that he wouldn't be set aside because like everyone knew how America had been in love with England, they also knew that Arthur could not resist him. And if the American told Arthur to stay away from him, he might actually do it.
But Arthur wouldn't do that, would he? Arthur was fiercely loyal especially to one he considered important. And Ivan was important, wasn't he? They might not have shared a very good history with each other but the present counted for something, right? And he didn't break Arthur's heart like what America once did so he had a better chance, hadn't he?
Ivan resisted the urge to bang his head on the wall, lest he be thought even more insane than usual, and just mentally shook his head. He took a deep calming breath, all the while following Canada who seemed to be fading every once in a while (how did he do that?).
His gaze passed along the carpeted floors then along the paintings hanging off the walls to the other loitering nations who jumped whenever his gaze met theirs. He bit his lip discreetly to cover an amused giggle. He knew it wasn't the time to scare other nations silly into headless chickens but sometimes, he couldn't help himself. It had always helped him take his mind out of troubling thoughts.
Canada led him to a stop in front of a closed door. Turning to him, there was no uncertainty in his blue violet eyes as he met Ivan's curious gaze. "This room should be private enough."
Ah, but there'd be no doubt that other nations would be gossiping seeing them headed here, presumably alone and if Hungary found out, it would be a lot more trouble than it was worth.
"Don't worry, this room is soundproofed," Canada added encouragingly. "I checked Alfred's blueprints of the place. We just want to talk to you about something important."
"We?" Ivan inquired, brow raised.
"Yes, 'we'," Canada agreed. He opened the door and gestured for Ivan to enter first.
The first thing he noticed was that it was a smaller version of the conference room but while nations would be sitting primly and bored on the chairs, the nations who were inside the room were scattered about, chatting with each other, sitting on the table, on the floor and anywhere else that was comfortable aside from the chairs. Some were even lying down, sharing snacks with each other.
"Hey, Ivan's here, everybody," Canada announced and all eyes turned to him.
"Oi, look who's finally here! Crikey, mate, you certainly took your time, didn't you?" asked the loud brunette with the dark green eyes and the unmistakable thick eyebrows. He was sitting on the table, munching on a bag of chips. He wore clothes reminiscent of zookeepers he'd seen on television and there was an evil-eyed koala clinging to his arm and looking at Ivan.
"Australia, please calm down. We should just get on with it before lunch ends or Germany would get all wobbly (1)," said a smaller nation with soft, almost fluffy blonde hair that had unruly tufts curled on the side of his head like a ram's horns. He was wearing a plain suit and looked so young with big, friendly lime green eyes and the same thick eyebrows.
Ivan looked around. He knew some of these nations but not personally (like India over there in the corner being her imperious self) and some he recognized faintly like smiling Seychelles who he'd often see speaking to both Arthur and France. Others he didn't know at all.
"Well, get on with it so we can play some football (2) outside. It's a sunny day, after all," said the Australian, rubbing at his nose.
"You guys were the one who wanted to talk to him, so talk to him," said Canada with a roll of his eyes.
Ivan noticed that Canada was a lot more confident in the company of these nations than he did the G8. He didn't stutter, mumble or whisper. He was in control. It would've been wonderful if he was like this all the time. Now he understood why Arthur seemed to be proud of him, never mind that even he would sometimes forget his own former charge.
Eyes turned to Canada expectantly and Canada groaned, slapping his forehead with his hand. "Oh, for the love of—! Alright, I'll do it but you guys definitely owe me for this!" He turned to Ivan and looked at him apologetically and cleared his throat. "Ivan, in behalf of the Commonwealth of Nations, we want to know what your intentions are with Arthur."
Ivan blinked. Well, he was kind of expecting this kind of talk but he didn't think he'd have to do it in front of the whole Commonwealth of Nations. Well, better than having to speak to them one by one, he supposed. Although, considering the fear in their eyes while they looked at him, trying to be brave (like the way Arthur did when he'd ripped his scarf), he doubted they would try talking to him alone.
Now, how to best handle this situation? What did he know about the Commonwealth?
More popularly known as the Commonwealth Family, the group included Arthur (and the whole United Kingdom, really, which meant his brothers— wait, how could he have forgotten that England had brothers?) and all his former colonies except for two (Mozambique and Rwanda, if he remembered correctly) who had no constitutional link to him whatsoever.
He'd heard talk of their activities once from an exuberant Katyusha some time ago (and her sincere wish that they could have something even remotely similar): they share their culture, knowledge and expertise in different fields with each other, every four years they play games and sports and they even give respect to those who'd fought for them in the last two wars.
So in human terms, they acted like a family and right now, he is with Arthur's fifty-three "children", all of which seem very protective of their "father". They looked unstoppably vocal and opinionated and he'd no doubt that if he didn't make a good impression on them, they would voice their protests on Arthur the next time they saw him. Then Arthur would be all kinds of stressed because, while other nations' opinions of him didn't matter (and could go rot in hell, he'd say), his family's surely did.
He counted the heads with his gaze but noted fifty-four nations when it should have been fifty-three, England (officially, the United Kingdom) being the fifty-fourth. He counted yet again and in the sea of dark skin and black hair and a little sprinkle of light complexion, he found the quiet, (seemingly) young man with black hair and very light brown eyes beneath slightly thick eyebrows, wearing a red duanga.
Huh. Even Hong Kong was here. But even without Hong Kong, he had at least a quarter of the world's nations in front of him, a testament to the United Kingdom's greatness back in the day.
"Make it good and make it quick, mate," Australia urged, checking his wristwatch. "We have thirty minutes before lunch ends!"
India rolled her expressive brown eyes. "Thirty minutes is a long time, Australia."
"Yeah, but not long enough for a good game of football or rugby," Australia retorted before his eyes widened in realization. "Hey, maybe we can get Japan to play!" He turned to New Zealand and flashed him a wide, toothy grin. "And you, Kiwi (3), will be our referee since you already won the world cup twice!"
"What? I'm going to play and you referee the match," New Zealand snapped at him, all fluffiness and cuteness gone with the fierce scowl on his face. "You won the world cup twice, too, drongo (4)!"
"Wow, it's scary how New Zealand has England's temper," Ivan heard one of the nations mutter from his right.
"Meh, what else is new," drawled another. "It's just good that Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland aren't here, you know, or it'd be much worse."
"Alright, that's enough," said Canada, pounding his palm on the table hard enough that the sound bounced off the walls and made everyone except Ivan flinch. "We're here to talk to Ivan, not argue about the next Rugby World Cup (5) which is four years away in 2015. Now either you talk to Ivan or we can send him out so he can have lunch in peace."
Everyone's eyes turned to Ivan and, just because he couldn't stop himself (it was already second nature now), he smiled, tilting his head to the side with all the cuteness in the world overshadowed by his dangerous aura. They all paled and moved just a little farther from him. Even Canada, who had been doing so well, squeaked and took a couple of determined steps away.
It was probably not a good idea to scare Arthur's former charges and it would probably work against him but this was how he normally acted in any situation and in anyone's presence (well, except Arthur's obviously). Ivan rationalized that they should think there was some good in him for Arthur to actually like him enough to spend time with him despite his, ah, scary countenance.
But what, for the love of vodka, should he say?
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Author's Note: Okay, so usually, I don't really care much for OC's. In fact, I don't read about them but considering the situation, I can't have only Canada, Australia and New Zealand talking when there are fifty-four nations in the room (well, I think I did that for the most part, except for India's sassiness, but still, most nations, who will remain unnamed and undistinguished from the crowd unless said differently in canon, have to deliver lines, albeit anonymously, to make it a little more realistic). In point of fact, OC's will be appearing near the coming of the conflict of the story (bet you didn't think there would be some drama huh?), particularly OC's for England's brothers because I'm not sure if they're already in canon and I see a lot of fan-made ones (correct me if I'm wrong).
I like the idea of an awkward Ivan trying to impress someone (in this case, a lot of someone's) and having no idea how to do it without becoming forceful or frightening (which he can't help sometimes). Even more impressive is that he's doing it for Arthur's sake despite it being against his nature because really, when did he ever conform to other nations' expectations of him?
Canada, well, you guys tell me what you think. Mind you, he'll only be like that when he's with the Commonwealth because he's probable more comfortable with them and his visibility would be a lot more apparent because America isn't a member which makes it hard for everyone to mistake him for his boisterous twin. (Think: what the heck is America doing in a Commonwealth meeting?)
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SLANG and Other Words:
Wobbly- to have a tantrum (NZ slang)
Football- not American football but soccer
Kiwi- nickname for New Zealanders
Drongo- idiot, stupid (NZ slang)
Rugby World Cup- not to be confused with Rugby League World Cup
