notes: I'm going to pull this out to eight chapters, actually. The eighth chapter is definitely going to be (all the previously mentioned nations in the chapters) / (China). I'll pick the seventh pairing when I get there; so far - France, Germany, and Rome are looking good... Dx

did you know? in some of the japanese fandom circles, Arthur/Yao is referred to as the "merry tea couple" (or the "delicious tea couple"). how could I not follow that up in some way, shape, or form?

(...)

x x x Close Relations x x x

x...four...x

[the only other sane man]

(...)

"Bloody bugger!" Arthur swore out, kicking the door of a certain idiot's suite shut. It closed with a 'thunk' - nothing near the resounding bang he had been meaning to achieve - but ah, well, life was hardly a movie, now was it? Arthur scowled at the door for a couple more seconds, before grumbling his way to another person's suite. Someone who, unlike the previous moron, could actually appreciate the finer aspects of life and tradition.

And by 'life and tradition,' of course he meant tea.

"Yao!" he called out, rapping - politely, of course - at the door of said nation. He waited, rather patiently he thought (at very least, with more patience than he was willing to give a certain still-rebellious ex-colony), before muttering something about 'slow reflexes' and the like. Thankfully, he thought, he always carried the security key card that he had swiped off of Ivan (who, no doubt, was looking for said card at this very moment).

Then he tried to the handle of the suite, only to find that it was not only un-encrypted, but unlocked as well. Raising an eyebrow, but saying nothing, he turned the knob, shrugging and pocketing said security card before making his way in Yao's suite.

"...Yao...?" he repeated, with noticeably more hesitation. It was with quiet footsteps that he padded his way into the larger room of the suite, taking note of the mostly turned-off lights. And then he sighed relief upon seeing the other nation, curled up peacefully against one of the various couches. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of waking the other up to go enjoy the finer aspects of tea, only to junk the idea entirely when Yao murmured something - in Chinese, of course - in his sleep.

"Rather tired, aren't you?" he muttered to no one in particular. And then he sighed, because he was really quite the soft-hearted person at times - much to his displeasure, particularly when it came to Alfred. He reached a hand forth, only to retract it, feeling more aged than he necessarily should, particularly since he was in the same room as someone who was - quite easily - double his age.

"And still looking so poncy..." he said - in what would have been a grumble - except his tone was much too soft, and his eyes were much too kind. A quick glance around the flat revealed the various torn body parts of stuffed animals. Arthur rolled his eyes, before he reached down to pick up... four legs, two arms, and one half of a creepishly-smiling Hello Kitty head. He shuddered; hoping that Yao wasn't entertaining some creepy fetish or another. He glanced over at Yao, half-ready to learn that the sleeping was just an act. Yao, of course, just dozed on, snuggling a bit tighter against the couch.

If the other wasn't so - politically and economically and ideologically - diametrically opposed to everything Arthur enjoyed (save for tea, of course!), he would have had half the heart to call Yao 'cute' at the moment. But they were - ever since the Great UN Fire of June 30, 2010 - enemies, to a certain degree.

Only to a certain degree, he repeated to himself, before reluctantly going into the bedroom and grabbing a duvet, tossing it lightly over Yao, and still making sure the other was fully covered. He was - and he admitted it to himself - such the sap.

And then, because the hammering and nailing was still continuing, all in the best efforts to remake the UN room less bombable and flammable than ever, of course, Arthur felt the need to not go anywhere near his own suite, mainly because a certain frog would most certainly be there. He shuddered, again, at the thought of having to help with the meeting room (mis)management. And inevitably having to listen to Francis complain about his (entirely edible) cuisine.

In retrospect, he thought, sitting around and doing nothing in a sleeping person's room was actually a pretty smart decision.

Of course, one can only sit still and fiddle their thumbs for long. After, oh, thirty seconds of so of intensive thumb-fiddling (read: entirely boring), Arthur was certifiably bored out of his mind. The prospect of going near the remains of the meeting room looked as grim as ever, but he felt, well, inadequate, sitting here and doing nothing - particularly because his original reason for coming was to enjoy some bloody decent tea.

"Well," he declared, getting himself up from the couch he had sat himself down on, "I can still have the cake and eat it too," he mused, going into the kitchen. As luck (or really, the universe) would have it, Yao not only had teacups and teapots, but he had a rather... decent... collection of tea varieties. Arthur raised an eyebrow, reading the various types which the other - apparently - had gotten his hands on. The Iron Goddess, Fur Peak, Silver Well... even some 'normal' ones like Earl Grey and Darjeeling! And the brands - all the best, not just in price, but in availability and flavor as well!

Off-handedly, Arthur wondered if Yao would notice a couple bags (or boxes) missing.

The Earl Grey Yao had contained both Ceylon and Indian - a truly fine combination indeed. Plus, it was also british, which was all the more reason for Arthur to choose this particular type of tea.

He went through the steps with a sort of mechanical precision; bottled water (not boiled, not filtered, and most certainly not tap), stone-edged teapot with ceramic lining, and of course, a well-used tea cozy - the kind that ripened with time.

Without thinking, he went, humming about some Liszt tune or another (a tune that the nailing and hammering in the other wing, no less!), and strained the tea leaves, in small bunches, and then together. A quick glance at the clock showed another three minutes, before the half-full teapot would reach boiling point. He shrugged; it was rather nice, actually - though he'd joyously drink American beer before ever admitting so.

Yao, on the other hand, awakened to the sound of a tea kettle's whistle. He blinked; wondering if Im Yong Soo or Kiku had returned, or if - heaven forbid - Ivan had made well on his promise to finally crack the suite's security combination. It had been a rather... stressing... day, to say the least; in between the dark wake-up hours and the cosplaying (he shuddered here, again) and the luncheon.

The luncheon where Im Yong Soo took him to the very same fifth street café, and then shamelessly ordered five different cakes, all sweet and all whole-sized. And then he had insisted Yao help him eat the five cakes. After a full lunch. A sweet tooth was one thing, but this - the sheer amount of sugar he had consumed made Yao wonder if diabetes would be a very realistic fear, immortality or no.

Traumatizing flashbacks aside - he was getting way too old for this, Yao thought - he gracelessly flopped himself down from the couch, taking note of the single light, emanating from the kitchen. A quick whiff of air revealed that someone was brewing tea - was brewing his tea. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the scent - something like lemon, perhaps orange?

But the distinctive smell of Earl Grey was a dead giveaway, really.

"Arthur?" he called out, surprise ringing from his voice. "What are you doing here, aru?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the other replied, and Yao smiled, hearing the voice to be as moody as ever. "I'm brewing some tea - Earl Grey, of course - because you're the only person in the whole of the meeting room that's willing to appreciate something of such caliber!" And then he sniffed, haughtily, Yao thought (choking back a snicker), adding on, "Even though you refuse to add anything resembling flavor in your teas."

"That's because the teas themselves have more than enough flavor," Yao readily responded, havign gone over this discussion-come-debate with Arthur time after time. "Furthermore," he continued, "my entire day has been spent eating sweet after sweet. I think I'm ready for something bitter." He pulled himself a chair from the center-table, sitting himself down.

"I was going to make scones," Arthur added, "But then I noticed that you didn't have any butter or eggs, much less flour!"

Yao thanked the heavens for not allowing him to run by the supermarket the day before.

"Such a pity," he cheerily said, as Arthur scowled, before turning around to turn off the stove. "Wh-what are you doing?" Yao nearily cried out, pushing himself out of his seat, "It's barely been two minutes, aru! What are you doing, turning off the stove and letting the tea leaves boil by themselves?" Desperately, he tried to place the kettle on the hot-spot once more, only to be stopped by an entirely too-smug Arthur.

"Why is the kettle so hot?" Yao asked, immediately noticing the waves of heat radiating off of said appliance.

"It's a new method of boiling tea," Arthur primly replied, still looking smug, as if he hadn't been advocating traditional methods of decades. "You simply turn the heat as hot as it'll go, and then let the tea boil as a result of the heat from the kettle, as opposed to the the bottom of the stove. Like this," he gestured to the steaming kettle, "the heat will be more evenly distributed, bringing out more of the flavor of the leaves."

"...Right..." Yao said, pursing his lips and looking skeptically at the 'boiled' kettle. "And you're absolutely certain you're not ruining my kettle in the process, aru?"

To which Arthur flamboyantly shrugged, and Yao's eye twitched. But in the end, he let it go, namely because it wasn't even his kettle.

"Alright," Arthur declared, poking a spoon the the side of the kettle, then touching the spoon, and subsequently wincing - much to Yao's triumphant glee, "It seems about ready, will you get the cups?"

"Sure," Yao acquiesced, readying two matching cups. "Would you like to take one back to either Francis or Alfred? Or both?" he asked, readying himself to pull out another pair, only to have Arthur scoff and snort. "Having a little fight, now are we, aru?" Yao jokingly put out, placing both cups and saucers withing Arthur's pouring range. Supposedly.

"Closer," Arthur insisted, "I can't very well lift this pot when it's practically 120 degrees!" Yao rolled his eyes, muttering about ridiculous 'new' methods of boiling tea, before scooting both cups a couple inches closer. A couple tries and a few British swears (consisting entirely of 'fallyphoot,' 'bloody,' and 'bugger,' Yao noted), and the tea was precariously poured. Yao bit back a laugh before taking the saucers and gingerly setting them down on the table.

"Where's the sugar?" Arthur demanded, "And milk and honey?" he added. Yao rolled his eyes, before retrieving said items from the refridgerator and cupboard, setting them down on the table.

"I will never understand how you enjoy tea like that," Yao noted, stirring his cup and admiring the spread of leaves.

"It's infinitely less sugar than what you consume with all those cakes and biscuits," Arthur reasonably pointed out, pouring in a rather heady quantity of sugar, honey, and milk. And then he sipped it, sighing in an almost-pleased manner, "Furthermore, the milk makes it so that the tea cools down faster - for those who actually try to keep their appointments."

"Entirely defeating the whole point of the boiling kettle, I assume?" Yao retorted, blowing the steam off of his tea.

"As soon as you drink it, you'll see the difference," Arthur reassured.

Yao rolled his eyes, blowing once more, and then prayed that his lips (and tongue, really) wouldn't be entirely burned off. All the same, it was with a steady hand that he raised the teacup to his mouth, sipping once - quickly. He raised an eyebrow, surprised, and then sipped again. Arthur grinned - smug and cocky as ever - and Yao couldn't give the slightest hint of retort because, well,

"It's... it's good," he admitted, wide-eyed and quite surprised. He raised the cup to his lips, sipping once more, "Despite the fact that it's so concentrated, the heat really doesn't stay, does it, aru?"

"That's even the entire beauty of this process," Arthur replied with a wide smile, taking yet another self-satisfied sip from the teacup, "When it gets colder, the tea leaves will stay in the middle, continuing to keep the flavor, because the whole of the kettle is steamed up. Truly a brilliant method, I thought to myself then." And then he grinned, sincerely, adding, "That's the reason why I seeked you out; those other buggers can't possibly -"

"- Understand the perfection in a wonderfully-brewed cup of tea?" Yao finished for him, drinking once more.

"Yes," Arthur replied, voice a bit light, "Absolutely."

"Well then," Yao started, after the two of them had made good work of half the kettle, "Thank you so much for coming over, aru!" He smiled, winsomely, adding, "It's been a rather... stressful... week lately, and I just didn't have the time to enjoy tea in a while." He handed Arthur a couple packets of Tie Guan Yin - the Iron Goddess. "As a thank-you for your troubles," he explained - laughing outright at the sparkle such rare brands brought to Arthur's eyes.

And right as the packets were exchanged - by hands - Arthur took the moment to lightly grasp Yao's hand, much to the other's surprise. For a moment - ever so brief - Arthur knelt, skimming the edge of his mouth against the trembling knuckles of Yao's hand.

"The pleasure was all mine," is all Arthur says, before pocketing the bags of tea and striding out the door.

(Yao would roll his eyes, but his heart is too busy beating straight out of his chest.)

(...)