Chapter 35
Two weeks had passed since Alfred's parents had visited, and things were almost back to normal. Better than normal, even, because now the rugby season was over and Arthur hadn't been dragged out to the field for a record-breaking six days. Of course, Alfred still did his usual workouts with Ivan, and added a morning run to make-up for the practices he no longer had to attend, but overall, Arthur saw much more of him.
This was at first a blessing…and then it had become a curse.
"Arrrrttthhhuuuurrr…"
Arthur continued working on his essay, ignoring the pleading boy as best he could.
"Artie. Artie. Artie Fartie."
Arthur lifted his eyes up over the top of his laptop screen just enough that Alfred could see his stony glare.
"I just wanted to say I love you," Alfred pouted. He was sprawled out on his old bed (after Arthur had kicked him off of his) and he had a comic book, but it wasn't doing much to hold his attention. Alfred's friends had monitored his sugar level, and exhausted themselves thinking of ways to occupy the other boy's free time, but so far they'd been unsuccessful.
"Alfred, I'm trying to write my paper," Arthur said, in a very reasonable tone of voice. Alfred pouted even more.
"But…but…I'm bored," the blond complained. Arthur winced. Alfred was not easy to love when he was bored. The other boy became distracting, and whiny, and absolutely ridiculous.
"No you're not," Arthur replied crisply, returning to his paper. Scientists have studied the grieving process extensively, and they have identified Arthur's current mentality as being in denial. Yes, Arthur was very firmly in denial, because upon Alfred's announcement that he was bored, Arthur knew it was to be the death of his sanity for the next half hour.
"I think I am…" Alfred replied in a sing-song voice. Arthur scowled ever so slightly. Out of nowhere, a pillow flew across the room and hit Arthur square between the eyes.
"ALFRED!" Arthur roared. This stage is known as the anger phase. Alfred grinned, another pillow at the ready. Arthur protectively saved his paper and then turned his best glare on the other boy.
"A pillow fight would be very fun! I wouldn't be bored if we were pillow fighting!" Alfred continued, all in that same, moronic sing-songy voice. It made Arthur's eye twitch.
"If you throw that pillow at me, I will smack you as hard as I possibly can," Arthur informed. Alfred hesitated. Realizing that the anger phase wasn't doing much for his cause, Arthur moved quickly to bargaining. "But…if you let me finish my paper in peace, I'll reward you for being patient."
The pillow hit him square in the face, followed by the maniacal cackling of his boyfriend.
Alfred had rolled off his bed and was creeping closer, staying in a defensive position, ready to attack further if his prey put up any further resistance. But his caution was unnecessary. Arthur closed his laptop in defeat, entered firmly into the stage of depression, and frowned moodily as Alfred pounced happily back onto his spot next to Arthur.
"I loooove you!" Alfred said, wrapping him up in a bear hug and pressing sloppy kisses against his hair. "I'm just gonna cuddle with you so I'm not bored, okay? Don't fight it. Just let me cuddle you."
Arthur tried hard to maintain his annoyed glare, but it was rather hard to do with the other boy being so…so…ridiculous. So Alfred.
"You've sneaked off and had some sugar, haven't you? I've told you that when you aren't burning it off during practice, you have to lay off all the sugary junk food! It makes you too hyper. You're just going to have to control yourself, though, because I really need to finish my essay," Arthur protested. At the same time, he relaxed in Alfred's hold and let the other boy kiss him and grope at him as he pleased. It was nice, he had to admit, the soft kisses and the warm hug…
"Let's wrestle!" Alfred decided, pinning him suddenly to the bed. Alfred's version of wrestling was not one that Arthur particularly enjoyed. In Alfred's mind, whoever managed to tackle the other got tickling rights, and so it always ended up that Arthur was trapped under the heavier boy gasping for air and barely refraining from pissing his pants. Alfred thought it was great entertainment.
"No! I'm not playing that game!" Arthur squirmed like an eel and somehow, miraculously, managed to twist in such a way that Alfred rolled off the bed with Arthur on top. Arthur's whole face lit up with glee and he attacked mercilessly. Alfred screamed girlishly and then his protests (and his shouting that Arthur was cheating) quickly turned into mad laughter.
"Stop! Stop!" Alfred begged. Sadistically, Arthur dug his fingers into Alfred's armpits and wiggled them. Alfred bucked and squirmed, but Arthur was firmly seated on top for once in their wrestling match, and he had no intention of letting up on Alfred so the other boy could gain the upper hand.
"Promise you'll stop annoying me!" Arthur demanded. Alfred giggled against his will and tried to thrust Arthur off. He didn't succeed, but Arthur did start to blush and smile a little. Alfred really did have an adorable laugh.
"I'm gonna pee on you!" Alfred threatened. Arthur tickled harder.
"Promise!"
"Never!" Alfred launched a counter-offensive, and managed to graze his fingers up Arthur's sides. The shorter boy squealed and flinched backwards, giving Alfred the freedom of movement he needed to switch their positions.
"No! No! Let me go! I won!" Arthur shouted, entirely in vain. Alfred had now rolled onto him, his solid weight pressing him down to the ground with no hope of escape. What was worse, Alfred had decided to combine two games into one, and grabbed a nearby pillow and whacked Arthur with it.
"Let me kiss you and I'll stop," Alfred offered, followed by another jarring whack from the pillow. Arthur tried to wiggle his arms free from under Alfred's thighs, but he was unable.
"Fine!" he replied, after Alfred snuck in another cheap shot. Alfred was grinning like an idiot when he peeked around the pillow at his highly aggravated lover.
"You mean it? It has to be a nice kiss. You can't bite me," Alfred stipulated. Arthur glared at him moodily.
"No biting," he agreed, reluctantly. Alfred smiled cockily and leaned downwards, coaxing a sweet, sexy kiss out of Arthur. It was one of Alfred's favorite games of all to annoy Arthur as much as he was able and then somehow escape punishment by turning their games into steamy make-out sessions. Arthur pretended it aggravated him but, secretly, he had just as much fun as Alfred.
A loud fart ripped through the room, and Arthur actually felt it against his tummy.
"UGH! GET OFF ME!" Arthur roared, calling on his last reserves of strength and pushing the taller, giggling boy off of himself. The room was starting to smell like rotten eggs, and Arthur pinched his nose shut with one hand and mercilessly smacked Alfred on his muscular shoulder with the other. "THAT WAS NASTY, YOU PRAT!" Arthur scolded.
Alfred, however, thought it was the funniest thing ever that he'd sat on Arthur and farted on him, and was literally rolling on the ground with tears streaming down his cheeks because he was laughing so hard.
"Oh, that's it. I'm leaving! I can't breathe, let alone get any work done. I don't care if you die of boredom! Don't come bugging me!" Arthur snatched up his laptop and left the room, making sure to slam the door as hard as he could. He tried to think of where he might find some peace, and hoped that maybe Francis and Matthew were having some quiet, study time in their room. When he knocked, Matthew answered and took one look at his mused hair and pissed expression.
"Uh-oh. Alfred's bored again, isn't he?"
"Just let me in already, before he sees which door I go in!" Arthur hissed. Grinning, Matthew let him in and shut the door firmly behind him. Arthur was relieved when Matthew locked it.
As Alfred's best friend next to Arthur, Matthew understood the perils and aggravations of a bored Alfred.
"You could date someone who was a little more mature, and you wouldn't have this problem," Francis said from the armchair, where he was sprawled out comfortably readying his history text. Arthur settled on Francis's bed and opened his laptop, ignoring the statement that was meant to get a rise out of him.
"Alfred's just a little too excitable at times. He's not childish…well…not that childish," Matthew defended weakly. Francis shot him a disbelieving glance before returning to his text. Matthew returned to his own bed, where his math homework awaited him.
It only took Alfred a few minutes to recover and come looking for his favorite victim.
"Mattie…Mattie-my-bestest-friend-ever…I'm looking for Arthur. Whatever he's told you is lies. I was being really sweet and he was mean to me. He hit me," Alfred whined from outside the locked door. Everyone inside remained silent. Alfred's head could be heard thumping against the wood.
"Maaatttiiiieeee! I'm bored! Stop pretending like you're not in there!"
Matthew hesitated for a long moment, but then he caved, despite Arthur and Francis's frantic head shaking.
"Alfred…we're trying to study. Why don't you go hang out with Ivan?" Matthew suggested.
"Ha! I knew you were in there! Matthew, you don't want to study! You want to come play with my new water guns! I'll let you have the bigger one!" Alfred offered. Matthew bit his lip. Water guns did sound like more fun than math homework…
"No! Resist Matthew! Once you give in, he won't let you go! You'll lose a whole afternoon frittering time away and then tomorrow will come and you won't have any of your assignments done and you'll fail your math test and Alfred won't feel guilty at all—he'll just want to play even more. You have to say no to him, for his own good!" Arthur whispered harshly. Matthew tried to steel himself for the confrontation.
It was awfully hard to ignore Alfred's tempting offers to goof off all afternoon, though. Matthew didn't know how Arthur had managed to keep his grades up while dating the other boy and spending so much time with him. He likely studied after Alfred had fallen asleep.
"Throw a bone out of a second story window—maybe he'll fetch," Francis suggested amicably. Both Matthew and Arthur scowled at him. The French boy just smiled and shrugged his shoulders roguishly.
"Mattie…please let me in. You're leaving me out and it hurts my feelings," Alfred whined pitifully. Arthur shook his head in warning, but Matthew's lip trembled. He moved to get off the bed.
"Stay strong, Matthew!" Arthur warned. But Matthew was caving…
"Mattie, I promise I'll be calm. I'll just draw. We haven't worked on our comics in forever. You always tell me you have schoolwork. I just miss my best buddy…" Alfred confessed. It was heartbreaking to hear. If an adorable puppy with a broken leg and a wet little nose in desperate need of hugs were able to speak, it would have sounded like Alfred.
Matthew unlocked the door, and Arthur made a dive for the restroom, but it was too late. Alfred all but kicked in the door, laughing like a mad man.
"SUCKER!" And he soaked Matthew with a huge water gun. Alfred rolled military style into the bedroom, nailed Arthur in his attempt to flee, and soaked Francis even as he started hurling things. Without so much as a drop of water on him, Alfred sprinted out of the room crowing about his supreme awesomeness.
"You caved last time, too!" Arthur accused hotly. Francis stood up, shaking water off his text book.
"YOU should not come running here! He's your pet idiot—you keep him occupied! Why don't you keep some coloring books on hand and some little packets of crayons for him?" Francis retorted. From the open doorway, they heard someone shout indignantly as Alfred clearly claimed another victim further down the hall.
"Kill streak 4! I AM UNDEFEATABLE! Troops from England, Canada, France and now China crumble before my awesome American might! I will conquer the WORLD!" Alfred's voice echoed back down the hallway.
"Someone's going to really shoot him," Matthew guessed. Arthur tried to wring water out of his T-shirt and cast Matthew a baleful glare.
"He has too much free time since rugby ended. At first it was nice, but now…now he must be stopped. We have to think of something to keep him occupied."
"KILLSTREAK 5, BITCHES! Russia – 0, America – 1 billion points! You should have seen the look on your face, you commie bastard! Ha ha ha - AGH! Ivan, no! Not my Squirty 4000! Arthur! Arthur help!"
"Oh for the love of—" Arthur ran out of the bedroom, squinting down the hall to see what had happened. It quickly became obvious. Alfred had become too enthusiastic in his game and had soaked Yao. If Yao had been walking alone, he likely would have escaped retaliation…but Yao (as was usually the case) was followed closely by Ivan.
Alfred, high on his success, had foolishly shot Ivan, too.
Now Ivan had Alfred's gun held high above the other boy's head, and was holding Alfred off with one large, restraining hand spread over Alfred's forehead. Yao was assaulting Alfred in Chinese, likely whining about his wet hair, and Ivan was scowling furiously as water dripped off his nose. Before Arthur could intervene, Ivan smashed the plastic toy against the brick wall, crumpling it effortlessly. Then, with a demonic smile, Ivan captured Alfred's head under his arm (Alfred was fighting the hold with everything he had and going nowhere fast) and Ivan dragged Alfred over to the water fountain.
"ARTHUR!" Alfred shouted. Arthur sighed.
"Ivan, let him go," Arthur commanded, though it was a very weak command. Ivan got Alfred's face down to the water fountain upside down and pressed the button as hard as he could jam it. A shot of icy water pegged Alfred in the face and went up his nose.
"Who gave you sugar?" Ivan demanded, jamming the fountain button a few more times.
"I won't rat out my source!" Alfred replied. Arthur shook his head. This was why Alfred's fits of boredom were so dangerous. This time, it had resulted in Ivan cleverly transforming a water fountain into a torture device.
"Tell me!" Ivan demanded. One more dose of water and Alfred cracked, spluttering.
"It was Doris!" Alfred confessed. Ivan released him with a glare at Arthur.
"You aren't supposed to let him go into the cafeteria unsupervised. He flirts with that ugly lunch lady and she lets him eat frosting," Ivan lectured. Arthur found himself in the middle of all his friends (who were soaking), all of them glaring—not at Alfred, but at him.
"Why are you giving me those looks? I'm wet, too! Plus I got tackled, and tickled, and assaulted by pillows all before I even managed to escape," Arthur defended.
"Your boyfriend—your responsibility!" Yao said. Ivan shoved Alfred towards Arthur. The lanky teen stumbled into Arthur's bracing arms, water dribbling out of his nose.
"It was only one can of frosting…" Alfred said pathetically.
Arthur eyed everyone's annoyed expressions and knew it had to be done.
"That's it, Alfred. You're driving us all crazy lately. You just have too much energy and free time. The morning run and custodial duty aren't cutting it. You need to join a new sport."
"Nothing is in season right now…except football…or soccer, in Alfred's case," Yao informed helpfully. Alfred pouted at Arthur, but Arthur was finally growing some immunity.
"Soccer is lame, and I suck at kicking!" Alfred said.
"Their practice starts in a half-hour. Lots of running," Yao added. Alfred glanced desperately at his so-called "friends," but they'd have none of it.
"You're going. Go change," Arthur said.
"But!"
"We need a break!"Arthur shouted back. Alfred flinched.
"But I've only been out of rugby for two weeks," Alfred complained.
"And that was one week and five days too long," Arthur replied, giving Alfred an unkindly shove back towards their shared room. Alfred had finally finished moving his things back in, and the constant presence of the other boy when Arthur had grown accustomed to rooming alone only worsened the situation.
"I've only wanted to have fun with you guys…" Alfred moped pathetically.
Five glares plowed over him until he dragged himself back into his room, sniffling.
"Oh, that was hard," Matthew said. "We really shouldn't bully him into doing something he doesn't want to do."
"Nonsense. Alfred's like a puppy. If you don't keep him occupied, he starts destroying things. He's happy when some angry coach is screaming at him to run more," Arthur said briskly.
"Don't you mean you're happy, because you get quiet time in the stands to do your work?" Matthew accused. Arthur snorted.
"Maybe. But whatever. It's settled. He'll play football."
Ivan and Yao continued on to their rooms and Francis returned to his own in a sulk. It was only Matthew and Arthur left in the hallway when Alfred came reluctantly back out, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, cleats in hand.
"I don't want to go," Alfred pouted. Arthur scowled.
"Yes you do. Lots of your friends play football," Arthur tried to encourage. Alfred, bottom lip thrust out, just scowled petulantly. Feeling guilty, Matthew tried to cheer up his saddened friend.
"Yeah! Arthur's right! Feliciano and Ludwig play, and so does Antonio and Lovino! Oh! Don't forget Kiku—he plays, too. I've heard he's really good. I bet he'd give you some tips," Matthew said. Arthur flinched in alarm.
"I didn't know…that Kiku played. Those guys…they're all probably far too competitive. Now that I think about it, football really doesn't seem like the sport for you. What about…err…spin class? I saw the poster for it the other day. You'd like it, Alfred. They use batons with pretty ribbons tied onto them, and they…you know…spin in circles."
Both Matthew and Alfred were looking at him like he was crazy. Arthur flushed dark red.
"There's nothing wrong with interpretive dance!"
"Well if those are my options, I'm gonna go with soccer. Are you coming too, or are you banishing me to practice to get a break from me?" Alfred asked sulkily. Arthur thought of Kiku's warning, which he'd all but forgotten in the blissful first few weeks of he and Alfred's relationship.
"Of course I'll come. I always come to your practices, don't I? Because I love you. I'll just grab my laptop, shall I? It'll be just like rugby—you doing something you love and me there, always watching…I mean, supporting you…because we're together and you love me," Arthur said. Alfred and Matthew shared a confused glance. Arthur scowled.
"Because you love me, right? And you'd never cheat on me. Because if you did, I'd scalp you and burn your things," he threatened. Alfred gulped.
"Err…yeah, Artie. Of course I love you. But, uh, sweetie…you look a little scary right now," Alfred said. Arthur scowled, but then broke the staring contest to go get his laptop.
"That was weird," Matthew said, watching him go. Alfred just shrugged his shoulders obliviously.
"Artie can be super weird. I don't understand what he's talking about most of the time. I just nod and smile."
Matthew grinned in amusement and patted his taller friend on the shoulder.
"That's a good strategy, Al," he said. "But, you know, you should probably be careful and not get too…err…flirty with anyone on the soccer team, eh? Don't know why, but Arthur seems nervous about it."
Alfred scratched his head in confusion but shrugged his shoulders.
"Alright, I guess. I'm not worried. I don't even know how to flirt!" Alfred said confidently. Of course, as he proclaimed this, he grinned charmingly and his baby blue eyes twinkled with light hearted humor. It was hard to call him lanky now—he was more toned than anything. Sure, he still had the braces and the glasses, but he seemed to carry them better these days. Maybe Matthew had just gotten used to seeing them. Regardless, Alfred used his good looks to flirt subconsciously. As someone who had never been aware of his own appeal, he was also unaware of when he was using it.
"Sure…just be careful, Alfred," Matthew warned, feeling like it was rather useless. Arthur returned with his laptop and a thunderous expression.
"Let's go," he said crisply, leaving no room for argument.
USUK
Alfred scowled petulantly as Arthur explained the situation to the football coach, who nearly chased Alfred off his pitch when he recognized him as the terrible rugby player.
"He doesn't want to play in the games—he just needs the exercise. He can run after the balls for your players, and he's already got loads of experience as a towel boy," Arthur persuaded. The football coach, however, had a gleam in his eye.
"I'll take him if you'll join. I saw the rugby game. You're in the wrong sport, kid," the football coach advised. Arthur scowled.
"I need to get work done. I have no interest in chasing around a ball—" Arthur was interrupted by the quiet arrival of Kiku, who appeared at the football coach's side with a serene smile directed at Alfred.
"I am glad you decided to come, Alfred. I have not seen you much since the last Hero Club meeting," Kiku said. The football coach gave Kiku's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
"You boys probably know Kiku—he's shaping up to be my star player. You played pretty well in that rugby game, Kirkland, but I think Kiku's still got the better kick," the football coach suggested casually, knowing full well what he was doing.
Arthur scowled, even as Alfred smiled obliviously at his Japanese friend.
"Yeah, 'course we know Kiku! I didn't know you were so good at soccer! Think you could give me some pointers?" Alfred said. The Japanese boy flushed lightly with color, and even Arthur had to admit the other boy was ridiculously cute.
Irrationally jealous, Arthur scowled heavily.
"Fine. I'll play if you'll let Alfred play as well," Arthur said the words in such a way that it was obvious why he was playing—he had something to prove against Kiku. The dark-haired boy merely glanced at him, flashed a small, half-smile and returned his attention to Alfred's happy stream of chatter.
"Hiya, guys! You came to play football! How great is that? Now we can all play together!" A chirrupy voice chorused. They glanced up at the arrival of Feliciano, who was decked out in matching football gear and looked very comfortable on the field. His beaming smile of pure joy was contrasted with the expression on his companion's face. Ludwig trailed after him, scowling nearly as much as Arthur, clearly annoyed that practice was being delayed because of Alfred and Arthur's late arrival.
"Alright, well, try-outs are over and I'm pretty sure I've got my team, but you boys can join practice if you want. If you prove to be as good kicking in this game as you are in rugby, though, there might be a spot open for you, Kirkland," the coach said before blowing his whistle and starting the boys on drills.
Arthur stuck like glue to Kiku, forcing him into "polite" conversation and challenging him on the field whenever he tried to drift closer to Alfred. As practice continued, the unspoken rivalry between the two was quite heated, and they were battling against each other furiously for possession of the ball—practically ignoring the other team members on the field.
"This is a TEAM sport, Kirkland! Pass the ball!" the coach yelled. Alfred stood nearby, watching the battle play out with surprised eyes and slight confusion. Feliciano was also taking a water break, and he frowned lightly at Kiku and Arthur.
"It's sad that they aren't getting along so well. Kiku seemed to respect Arthur a whole lot in student council, but now he doesn't seem to like him much. I wonder what happened?" Feliciano mused. Alfred agreed, glad that someone else besides himself had noticed the weird vibe.
"I dunno what's with Arthur. He's always liked Kiku before, too," Alfred said. "And he hates playing sports like this, so I don't know why he's even playing at all."
A harsh voice piped up behind them.
"You two fucking idiots are so clueless!" Lovino growled, startling both boys. Alfred and Feliciano jumped in surprise and then looked at the older boy questioningly.
"What do you mean, big brother?" Feliciano asked.
"Eyebrows is jealous of your little Japanese friend. He's just trying to keep him away from his golden boy here…that's you." Lovino snapped, flicking Alfred on the shoulder as he shoved past him to the water cooler.
"Huh? Why would Arthur be jealous of Kiku?" Alfred asked.
"Oh, I don't fucking know. Maybe he's worried because it's almost Valentine's Day. You are gonna dump him before Valentine's right? Otherwise you'd have to do something really sappy and over the top for him and waste a lot of money," Lovino said. "Because if you don't," he continued, "he'll dump you."
Alfred suddenly looked highly concerned. Feliciano frowned as well, and it was a strange expression to see on the normally chipper boy's face.
"Big brother…we are all in the Hero Club now, yes? Clearly, me and Alfred need some help! You know a lot about Valentine's Day. Will you help us?" Feliciano asked. Alfred, too worried about this new problem between himself and Arthur, didn't even think to ask who Feliciano was dating. Of course, it was fairly obvious to the entire school, but such things typically went over Alfred's head.
Lovino jerked his water bottle away from the cooler and took a long drink.
"Fuck no, I won't help you. I have no interest in—"
"Oh, hey guys! I'm a little surprised to see you at practice, Alfred. Having fun?" Antonio asked as he approached the water cooler. Lovino instantly scowled at him, clenching his water bottle in his hand.
"Piss off! Nobody invited you over here!" Lovino growled hotly. Antonio stood a good foot taller than his stormy fellow sophomore, and he grinned at him knowingly before smoothly stepping around him.
"Oh…err…I guess. Soccer is kinda lame, though," Alfred replied, distracted now by the sight of Arthur and Kiku arguing over one of the coach's calls.
"You Americans have funny tastes in sports. Has Laura tracked you down yet?" Antonio asked. Alfred finally turned away from the field, confusion on his face. Antonio clarified. "Laura—the girl who did your photo shoot with Arthur?"
"Oh, no, I haven't seen her since then," Alfred said.
"Well the calendar is almost done, but she wanted to talk to you about doing some more modeling for her. Your shots came out pretty amazing. I mean, everyone looked good, but there's something really different about—"
"I said to piss off!" Lovino harshly interjected, going so far as to push the taller boy. Antonio stumbled backwards, caught off guard, and scowled lightly at Lovino before his expression turned into a knowing grin.
"You're ridiculous, Lovino," Antonio declared, though he didn't seem very angry. Rather, he just shook his head in amused disbelief and took a swig of water from his refilled bottle. "But whatever—I have to get back on the field anyway. Find Laura, though, okay, man?" Antonio said, before leaving their little group. Lovino was scowling at him so fiercely that even Alfred and Feliciano picked up on the angry vibe.
"Big brother, you seem angrier with Antonio than usual?" Feliciano said a little nervously. His volatile big brother threw his water bottle to the ground and sat on the bench nearby in a sulk.
"He was practically raping blondie with his eyes! It was fucking disgusting!" Lovino growled. Alfred and Feliciano exchanged confused looks.
"Uh…you mean…you thought he was flirting with me?" Alfred asked, scratching his head. He really didn't understand this whole flirting business. Why did it seem obvious to everyone but him?
"That dumbass Spaniard flirts with everyone!" Lovino pitched his voice higher to imitate a girl's and continued, "Oh, Antonio, you're so fucking sweet and romantic. You're a drummer? That's so sexy. I love that you have an artistic side. Could I see your fucking photos sometime?" His voice returned to a deeper register and he kicked up a clump of grass aggressively with the cleats on his heel. "He's such a…such a…fucking idiot!"
Feliciano, knowing his brother fairly well, finally began to smile.
"It sounds like to me that we all have some preparing to do for Valentine's Day. Big brother, if you help me and Alfred, we'll help you do something special for Antonio!"
"Huh? Why would he want to do something special for Antonio?" Alfred asked. Antonio glared at Alfred.
"Why would I want to spend time with you idiots at all?" He pointed to Alfred, "This one's so dumb he'd buy a solar-powered fucking flash-light, and I really can't stand that potato-sucking bastard that you like so damn much."
Alfred had totally lost the thread of conversation by this point, and could only reach one conclusion.
"Your anger-management therapy isn't going so well, is it?" he said pityingly. Lovino glared. Feliciano beamed, and clapped his hands in a "well, that's settled now!" sort of way.
"Alright! So Lovino will help you and me get ready for Valentine's Day, and we'll help him do something special for Antonio. Man, it's really nice to have friends when you're in a pinch like this, huh?"
"I guess…" Alfred trailed off unsurely. Lovino flicked them off and stormed back onto the field.
"Don't worry, he'll help for sure! We just need to bribe him a little…" Feliciano asserted. Alfred shook his head. Lovino didn't seem like the sort of guy that knew a lot about love, but his little brother seemed pretty confident he had good information. Alfred's eyes gravitated to Arthur, who looked very close to shoving the soccer ball down either Kiku or the coach's throat (whoever he could get to first). Alfred sure as heck didn't understand what was going on in Arthur's head all the time, so maybe he did need more help than he realized?
"Okay, we have a new Hero Club Mission! Convince Lovino to help us get ready for Valentine's Day!" Alfred announced, full of determination. Feliciano beamed, and gave him a high-five.
"Yay! This will be the best Valentine's Day ever!" Feliciano chirruped. Gazing first unsurely at his stormy boyfriend, and then further down the field at the volatile Lovino, Alfred could only pray that Feliciano would be right.
A/N: Slow update, but it was a fun chapter. In case you're wondering, they have about a week until Valentine's, and the mayhem that the holiday of love will cause is only just beginning…