A/N: Here's chapter two! The plot is slowly getting there, but you might have to wait until the next chapter to get the whole gist of it. Also, the next chapter might not be up until mid to late of next week. Sorry, but school comes first...unfortunately. DX
I OWN NOTHING! Not the series, the characters, or the counrties represented. Please enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. :D
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CHAPTER TWO
Alfred laughed joyously, the edge of his pinky barely touching the thickness of Arthur's brow. "Ha ha! Almost, old man," he cried victoriously, spinning around in a festive dance.
England's face couldn't have been redder, a mixture of embarrassment and agitation coating his cheeks. "This is so stupid. Height means nothing, Alfred, so stop being so damn proud about it!"
America's mood could not be controlled; he glared over at England, a healthy dose of excitement in his eyes. "This is more than just height, Arthur," he said, smirking. "This is a sign that I will be a hero, and that day's not far off!"
Sighing, the elder of the two sat down at his chair, the previous red hint his cheeks had now fading. "You are growing up," Arthur whispered sadly.
Alfred could feel the aura in the room turn dim, so he opted to end the conversation and sat across from his host, resting his arms on the table. "That's right. And I can't even dream of growing up without some more lessons in British etiquette," he said, fighting a scowl with a wide smile. Though he despised those absurd lessons Arthur constantly drilled in his head, Alfred would do anything to put a smile on that man's face.
Arthur stood from his seat to saunter over to the bookshelf, exuding much pride in his step. "I'm glad I was the one to raise you, Alfred," he said, returning to the table with a thick textbook in his hands, "otherwise, there would be no hope for your survival in the real world."
Laughing quite loudly, Alfred tried to prevent that infamous lip twitch, a usual symptom of his displeasure from looking at that book. "Oh Arthur," he drawled, trying to prepare his mind for monotonous exercises on proper table manners.
England opened the book, searching for his daily lesson. "Now, let's see," he said, flipping effortlessly through hundreds of yellow-stained pages.
"Master Kirkland, sir."
Both blondes perked their heads up at the maid's soft voice, her appearance in the room just as docile. "Rebecca. What is it?"
The young woman took in a deep breath, glancing back towards the hall. She seemed to hesitate in reporting her business, which was a shame, for when she tried to open her mouth, a third blonde joined in on the etiquette lesson.
"C'est moi!"
Arthur groaned, slamming the book close. "Francis! No, no! Not today, get out!"
The Frenchman did not listen and simply twirled about the room until his elbows were perched upon the table, his chin resting on his interlocked fingers. "What is this," he said, observing the book's cover before Arthur splayed his hands all over it, growling under his breath.
"Have you gone deaf, you imbecile?! I'm in the middle of giving Alfred a lesson! Get out of my house!!!"
Unlike the man who raised him, Alfred was quite amused by distractions and sat back in his seat, giggling at the turn of events.
France craned his neck to give America a warm welcome smile. "You don't actually enjoy reading such dull garbage, do you," he asked under his breath, only to have his question answered with more laughter.
Francis and Arthur were always like this, bickering and poking fun and all sorts of other nonsense. It was a world Alfred truly enjoyed. "No, not really," he said, smiling widely.
"Alfred!"
Giggling, the romantic in the room linked his arm with the hot head, dancing merrily towards the door. "Don't listen to him, young man, he's just in one of his moods! But I shall tame him for you! Au revoir," he sang, with the Englishman in his arms protesting incoherently.
"J-just…stay in here and work on some exercises, Alfred," Arthur cried out before the parlor doors slammed shut.
The young blonde laughed and nodded, pulling the large book towards him and flipping to some random page. "Will do, Arthur, will do."
He sighed, listening intently to the storming footsteps upstairs and the many profane insults shouted by England. The sound of another door slamming beaconed silence, and America began to study.
…which didn't last long. "Ugh, this is so boring!" He dropped his forehead against the book, continuously banging out his frustration. "Why does he keep up with this torture?! I don't care where the salad fork goes. I don't even like salad," he complained, pushing the book far from his end of the table.
Groaning, Alfred looked up at the wall-wide bookshelf at the other side of the parlor. Arthur had such a large collection of literature, most of them odd spell books that Alfred was forbidden to read. The young man smirked and stood up, leisurely making his way across the room. "He's not here. He won't know what I'm reading…"
He giggled maliciously as his long fingers brushed over the tattered spines of books, studying the velour textures and dark colors of the texts. One spine read How to Produce a Hex and Alfred eagerly pulled it from its home, maddeningly flipping through pages. Most of the book was written in some odd type face Alfred didn't care to figure out, only focusing on reading what he could understand. "Oh Arthur, and you think I'm juvenile," he chuckled softly, reading the instructions on "giving your enemies the nose of a hog".
After a few lines and sentences, he had his fill, and placed the book back in its place. This was just as boring as reading the etiquette book. Alfred wanted Arthur, not his enormous display of ridiculous literature, even if there were awesome stories of knights and heroes. Regardless, they weren't fun to read without the other man, and time only crept by slower as America waited for England and France to finish their…
Just what were they doing?
A loud, pained moan and a sudden crash of glass caught Alfred's attention, his head swerving reflexively towards the parlor doors. Muffled yells and loud bangs from the second floor came from an all-too familiar voice. "Arthur?"
"What the hell do you think you're doing, you sick bastard?!"
"Mon Angleterre, listen, I was just…"
"Get out of my sight! Get out!!!"
Concerned, Alfred ran out into the hall and glanced upstairs, spotting a nude France on the hallway landing, outside of England's room. He gasped, his cheeks blushing red and his mind growing foggy. He knew the man was quite comfortable with in nothing but his bare flesh, but why here?
Slowly, Alfred started up the stairs, meeting France's eyes once half way up. The color in the Frenchman's face completely drained. "A-Alfred," he croaked, a ball of wrinkled clothing flying toward the older man's face.
"Don't ever think you can go that far again, you…" Arthur started yelling, before freezing at the sight of Alfred.
America's eyes darted back and forth between two confusing images; France stood awkwardly in the hallway, clutching the ball of wrinkled clothing against his crotch; England was in his bedroom doorway, wearing nothing but a bed sheet, draped lightly around his hips.
Nothing made sense. Alfred knew Arthur's distaste for Francis; all he ever did was complain about that aloof buffoon, who ran purely on wine and sex. But to see Arthur in such a state…
Young America gasped, still trying to soak in everything, when the sight of Arthur's shaking formed revealed much more than his bare body clothed with just a bed sheet. Light lines of crimson scratches, little rash-like spots of pink and red, and what seemed to be teeth marks decorated the man's pale flesh.
"Al…Alfred, I," England sputtered out, his green eyes swelling with tears.
It was all too much. Before Arthur could speak another word, Alfred bolted down the stairs, trying to keep his breath steady. Running out the door, there was only so much the young blonde could comprehend, but he knew one thing: he had to get out.
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...to be continued.
I know, I'm such a bastard, giving you guys a cliffhanger like that. XD
~erbby