Author's Note: So… I have a review that I haven't replied to since it's not a signed one. I'll answer it here.
Thorn (): As you and my besties suggested, I've changed the race things. I don't really feel like writing it at first… but yea, let's just see where would I end this story :p
Anyhow… I guess I can't really complain about people telling me to take the race part out. I've done it, and replaced it with – hopefully – more readable ones.
Chapter 2
The early morning chirps of birds slowly dragged Alfred out of his slumber. Groaning, he turned his head as to avoid the bright sunlight, but found it useless.
After several more minutes passed away, he jerked his body upright, yelping when the awkward position he'd slept with took its toll. "Ow shoot, did I fell asleep again on the desk?" He muttered grudgingly, rubbing his bleary eyes. He blinked twice when realization hit him, spinning around on a fixed point. "Where the hell are my glasses – moreover, who-" He cut himself off as the memory of yesterday came back to his mind.
"Ah," he clicked his fingers and grinned, "it's Artie."
After tidying up his previous works, Alfred proceeded into his bedroom quietly, although he knew that the Brit was probably already awake and was sitting near the kitchen, sipping his usual morning tea. A lot of years had passed since he last stayed in Arthur's house and vice versa, but it didn't really surprise himself that he still remembered the older man's habit.
The American entered his bathroom, and came out about seven minutes later, now fully dressed in his civilian clothes. He didn't feel like working today, as he knew that the same thing would await him in the office. He'll just call the Boss and tell him that he couldn't come for today… surely it couldn't be that hard, right?
More five minutes for finishing his hair and private issues, Al trotted down the stairs towards the kitchen, noticing the older blond outside, in his yard.
"Mornin' Arthur!" He greeted happily along his way.
The Briton didn't even turn his head, but greeted back. "Morning to you too, Al." Then he continued to sip his tea, "you don't mind if I used your kitchen for a while, do you?"
"No," Al hummed, "as long as you don't burn things off or set my kitchen ablaze." At Arthur's visible scowl he only grinned even more. "Oh yeah, that reminds me. Did you eat breakfast already?"
"I did," the older man answered, "took an apple from your fridge, if you don't mind."
As for his own breakfast, Al made a simple sandwich with triple bacon along with an instant coffee. He brought them to the table, sitting across Arthur.
"Say, Artie, you've seen my newspaper?" He asked while munching his meal.
Scowling and without even looking up from his own paper, Arthur answered, "Jesus, Al, could you swallow your food first? Your paper's on the pantry, I just skimmed through it a while ago."
When Alfred nodded and went back inside to fetch the said thing, Arthur suddenly asked, now looking up, "hey, Al, can I ask you something though?"
"Sure, Artie. What's bothering you?"
"It was just…" The former pirate frowned, putting down his papers on the table, "I don't know if this is strange to you or not; but why is there a lot of murder reports on today's edition?"
Just after the last word came out from the Brit's mouth, Alfred stiffened momentarily. Oh fuck, he thought desperately, nobody should know about this – especially not him! "Uh, why do you ask that?" He could just hope that the shorter blond wouldn't notice anything unusual.
But Arthur had lived with, taken care of, and even slept beside the younger man when he was just a small child; and his trained eyes that were the result of his pirate days couldn't be fooled so easily. He actually wanted to press the matter more, but decided against it. "I'm just curious, that's all. Because, usually, reports about crime like murders don't eat that much place in common papers."
Alfred could feel a lump rising in his throat, but he gulped it down again. "I dunno," he laughed rather nervously, "they usually don't eat that much place either." The American sneezed, and tried to divert their conversation to another different topic. "I think I'm gonna catch a cold," he muttered quietly to himself.
Then again, Arthur wasn't Arthur Kirkland if he couldn't hear the quiet muttering sound… which he was sure that the younger man intended only for himself. "Oh," he commented, "then make sure that you get another proper rest." Making a mental note to find out about Al's strange behavior later, he continued to read his newspaper. But his brain wasn't doing anything helpful but to make him feel more worried.
Letting out a heavy yet soft sigh of relief, Alfred snatched the newspaper from the top of the glossy black furniture. He hesitated at first; whether to tell Arthur the truth when he asked later or not… but knowing that this was the great pirate that used to conquer most of the World, he would probably ask again later. Just with a different way.
Something clicked in his mind moments later when he was reading the international news page. "Hey," he poked the other blond's shoulder, causing him to twitch slightly, "don't you have your own work back in England?" He continued to poke the older man until the latter swatted his hand away and glared at him.
"You're just too daft, you know?" He half-growled, and ignored the nod from the man sitting next to him. "If I still have works to do back in my place, I wouldn't even come here yesterday!"
"Oh, so you're work-free today?" He concluded, and before the Brit got the chance to retort again he beamed up immediately. "Awesome! So you don't mind helping me again, yea?" He asked with a gleam of hope in his eyes, which didn't escape Arthur's notice.
And he had every single little intention not to let that gleam disappear, never again. Because he knew, once that small flame of hope disappeared, the chance for it to return was extremely small… considering this was Alfred F. Jones he was talking about. Obnoxious as Hell yet kind-hearted… maybe Al was still that small child that he used to look after long time ago. "Just show me where do you want me to help you with."
"Ah, sure." The American nodded eagerly, "just let me finish today's paper."
The older blond nodded, "whatever."
Soon enough Alfred finished his paper, standing up and followed by Arthur. He threw the bundled paper carelessly, leaving the shorter man to pick it up and place it on the table.
"Can't you be at least tidier, Al?" He asked gruffly.
"Nope," the younger man responded swiftly, "it's just the way I am."
"Yeah, right." Arthur rolled his eyes, "what a stupid thing to ask."
At that commentary the American pretended to look offended, and gaped at the older blond. "That's such a cruel thing to say, Arthur!" He imitated.
"And I'm adding no sense of humour to that list."
"Hey, I was just joking, Artie!" Alfred protested, and with a slight pout he added, "geez, you're just too grumpy, y'know that?" Then he continued to walk towards his office.
The younger man entered the office first, with the former pirate just slightly behind him.
As the American didn't say anything about going to the next room, Arthur just followed him directly, assuming that his work was in this room, not the other one. He stopped in front of the desk, observing the younger nation rummage through the steel-green cabinet.
Alfred pulled several files out of each drawer, and stacked them on the table. He patted the top document, and then grinned at the older man. "So yea, I just need you to sort these out."
Arthur grabbed all of them and was just turning his back when the younger man stopped him. "Ah," he shook his head, "you don't need to go to the next door again. Are you comfy enough on the couch?" He pointed to the brown furniture not far from his own desk.
"Sure."
Thus they worked together in silence like that for approximately four hours… with a 30 minutes break in between. Empty cans of soda and instant coffee lay forgotten below the desk as Al threw himself backwards, punching the air with both hands. "It's finally done!" He exclaimed, rubbing his eyes, "more works like that and I think I'm gonna explode." Approaching the Brit who was completely absorbed into his work, Al peeked from over the shoulder. "You alright there, Artie?" He asked curiously.
"I'm fine, thanks." He replied without even looking up, "just give me another minute and I'll be done."
"Okay." The taller man hummed happily, grabbing another can of soda from the refrigerator. "Say, Artie," he mumbled, "you think you could stay here for another night?"
For a moment he thought that the Briton was going to ignore him, but a reply came. And it was not what he had expected, even if he did make two predictions.
"…Ivan?" Arthur almost hissed at the paper.
Alfred choked on the soda and spurted a mouthful of them, and he stared at the former pirate dumbly, the liquid still dripping from his mouth. "What," he drawled cautiously, "the hell did you mean with 'Ivan', Arthur?"
"Wha – oh." The sitting blond blinked once, twice. "Nah, I misread the name." Closing the file, he looked up. And when he saw the younger nation's gaping mouth and idiotic expression along with the dripping soda, he wrinkled his forehead and narrowed his eyes. "For God's sake, Alfred," he really hissed now, "don't you at least have enough decency not to look like that?"
Shaking his head quickly, the American wiped his mouth with a tissue. "Hey," he cried, "you caused me to! I was only drinking when you mentioned Ivan's name!" He protested loudly.
"Yeah," Arthur retorted, but this time weaker, "but I did tell you that I misread the name!"
"You did and I know that, Arthur!" Alfred had begun wailing by now, the green soda can thrown carelessly somewhere (lucky it was already empty), "because all important documents regarding international diplomatic issues especially with Russia are kept by the government, so you nearly gave me a heart attack when you mentioned Ivan! Why would I ever keep documents about him – if it's not extremely important – here in my house?" The American ranted, and panted heavily after he finished.
At the older man's stunned expression he paused, and threw his face away. "S-Sorry," he mumbled quickly, "I-I got carried away."
The former pirate had been around the younger nation for almost more than three centuries now, and never for once did the latter did something like that. When he said things like that or when he criticized him, the reaction had always been predictable… but that?
Had he gone too far?
"N-No, Al," the Brit stammered, "it's fine. I was the wrong one."
There was no sound, but after several seconds Alfred looked back to the sitting blond, with a mixed expression of scared and doubtful. "…You sure?" He asked slowly, the glasses reflecting the sunlight coming from the outside.
"Yes." Arthur answered firmly, "now about the question you asked earlier… sorry, but I can't, Al. I have to be back to England tonight, but yeah, I'm free until the evening. What do you have in mind anyway?" He tried to steer the conversation to a brighter mood, just so that Al didn't have that look on his face again.
He was sure that something must be wrong – something must be bothering Al terribly. Because almost all of the times they had argued, Al would be the first one to end it by either laughing or grinning. This time he didn't; instead he stared at Arthur warily, as if afraid of something.
Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but it looked like something came across his mind and he closed his mouth again… only to broke off into a goofy grin.
"Alright then Artie, let's just forget this and go out, yea?" He shouted happily as he lunged forward, grabbing the older man's shoulder. "'cause you did say that you're free until this evening, so let's go around!"
Arthur snapped back into reality when he was dragged out of the room, the door slamming closed behind him. He stared at it dumbly before staggering backwards and regaining his balance back. "Geez, Al, you don't have to drag me 'round, you know?" He grunted half-happily half-angrily, adjusting his shirt back to the position he preferred. "So? Where are we going?"
"Wherever I like, or you like, as long as the time allows!" He answered happily, snatching his car key from atop the counter. "But I'm driving." He added at the end.
"Okay you drive, but when you make us end somewhere unclear, I'll take over the car." The Briton eyed the younger nation who had turned to face him challengingly.
The American's eyes flashed rather dangerously in a happy way, and he spun the keychain on his right index finger, returning the same challenging look. "Then we have a deal." He finished, powering up the car as he said so.
After the both of them entered the car, Alfred got it out of his garage and locked the gate. After they were inside the car, he immediately put in the gear and zoomed out in a flash, Arthur barely finished fastening his seat belt.
Hours later they returned with a plastic-full of car, and the older blond almost fell out of the car when he tried to get himself out. He glowered at the black vehicle, and his mouth was pressed into a hard line when he turned to the taller man.
"Seriously, Al," he began, "yes you didn't take us anywhere strange, but do you have to overload the poor thing?"
"Ah, well, you see…" He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, "I haven't bought any groceries for quite some time, and since you're here I figured it might be good for someone to help me out."
"…Right." Arthur couldn't really say anything else.
"By the way, what time is your plane going to take off?" Al asked, getting the plastic bags out of his transportation.
"Um, it said that around seven I've got to check in…" The former pirate paused in his work and glanced at his watch. And then he cursed loudly, causing the bag on his right hand to fall to the ground.
"Jump in again, Artie." The American grinned and pointed to the empty seat next to him, "go get your stuffs and I'll get you to the airport in no time."
Wasting no time at all, the Briton dashed inside and returned within three minutes, throwing his brown suitcase into the car. He managed to lock the gate swiftly and entered the car.
Alfred stepped on the gas before he even had the chance to close the door… and as he was afraid that if he didn't close the door in time and it hit a tree or something, Arthur yanked the door with all his might, earning an amused look from the driving blond. "What?"
"Oh, nothing." Humming happily, Al directed his attention back to the road. It was winter and if he could choose; he'd prefer his own room, a cup of coffee, a bowl of popcorn and a good movie. But Arthur was here, and he had promised that he'll pay for Arthur's tickets and transport to and from the airport.
When they did get into the airport, Arthur actually still had enough time to bid the younger blond a farewell. "Take care of yourself so you don't catch a cold, Al." Was his last sentence before he waved his hand, walking towards the gate.
"Yeah," Alfred replied, waving back, "and thanks for your help, Artie!"
Even though the Briton knew that Al wouldn't be able to see it, he still smiled and waved his right hand, before melding into the crowds inside.
A/N: So… I guess there are few hints about the main problem here? These two chapter are rather prologue-like, I think… because chapter three will start with the problem immediately. I hope. *gets hit*