Fjerde mai:
International:
Alfred stirred slightly as the sound of music reached his ear. It was familiar but he was too groggy to identify it.
Then he felt something touch the side of his neck. He looked up, and promptly fell out of his king-sized bed.
There, in a brown cloak with a white shirt underneath, holding a blue lightsaber, which had been what had touched him, stood his boyfriend Arthur.
-Get up! I never strike a man who hasn't his saber. It would be a most unworthy victory. But Arthur smiled as he said this, letting Alfred know that they were playing.
-Do you think, Alfred started to reply, getting in the game, that you have a chance against me?
-Possibly, but grab you saber now, Arthur responded back and pointed at the nightstand on Alfred's side of the bed, where an unlit lightsaber that hadn't been there last night stood. Momentarily distracted by that, and the decoration of his bedroom which made it look like the Jedi Council Room, he took his saber. May I put on some clothes as well? He asked, purposefully putting on a fake English accent.
Arthur rolled his eyes but pointed towards the end of the bed where their feet never managed to touch. There lay a pile of clothes neatly folded.
Putting on them, and the glasses he didn't really need, but made him look cool, he followed Arthur to his living room.
Or, it used to be his ordinary, everyday living room, but Arthur had been a busy boy. Now it looked like the inside of the Death Star.
-Are you ready, young padawan?
Oh, the battle was so on.
Author's notes:
I'll leave up to your imagination who won.
I don't own Hetalia