May 21st, 2014 - Strength

AUTHOR: faesphinx

May 21st, 2014 - Strength

"T'cha, right". For all his bulk and broad shoulders, and lifting bison when he was just a little thing, Arthur could still give him a good fight.

To be fair, they probably did look imbalanced. Alfred knew that he looked like a young college football star, and Arthur was… Arthur. He was so lean, and his large eyes gave him a sort of childlike-look. But those green eyes irises could narrow down into dangerous cat's eyes, and his soft sweater vests concealed hard, wiry muscle and tendons. Arthur was so demure when he wanted to be, so careful to hide what lay beneath his gentlemanly demeanor (when he wasn't being a total dick, that was). Most people, and even some of the Nations, didn't know how tightly he could grasp something, how quick and clever his slender hands could be.

He was sort of like a snake, Alfred thought. All hidden muscle that could squeeze the life out of you, if it wanted to, and you could never get a proper hold on it, because it would just slip through the gaps you left.

Not only that, but Arthur had a will that even Alfred found hard to fight, sometimes. It was something stronger than iron. Iron could go rusty and brittle. Arthur was more like titanium. Something that strong took so much to wear down, it usually wasn't worth it. Alfred knew that better than almost anyone. It was something so basic and plain, but worth so much more than iron.

Alfred was addicted. He couldn't get enough of Arthur's arms, his thin chest, his fingers. He loved laying on the couch with him, just cuddling, and coveting each hidden muscle, and the power that lay in each one. There was just something about it that seemed to take the burden of being 'the strong one' and made it easier to handle. He didn't always have to be strong, not for Arthur, at least. Arthur could take care of himself, and had for centuries before Alfred had even been on a map.

Sometimes Alfred wondered what that was like- he knew the gist of Arthur's history, after all. The invasions, the wars- both civil and foreign- the come-and-go of kings and queens, the plagues, the fires, the famines, with almost no one to rely on. Arthur said he remembered Rome; Alfred wondered if he remembered what was before that, but Arthur would never say.

And yet, he was still here. Even after the rise and fall of his empire, after the struggle and tragedy of the years, Arthur was still here. Still rising above it, only made tougher by the trials. Still with that pride, that strong jaw. Alfred hoped that he could do that as well, but didn't dare tell Arthur. He'd fought so hard for Arthur to see him as a responsible, capable adult- how could he just sudden come up with "Someday, Arthur, I want to be just like you!" without causing bittersweet memories to flare up, or Arthur thinking that he was still too young to be a nation?

Not that he'd try to reclaim him, Alfred knew. He was beyond that particular worry. But the anxiety still remained that Arthur, for all that he had come to understand Alfred, would lose his respect for him. It would be such a relationship-changer, for Arthur to see him as someone who needed to be guided through everything and have his hand held, that Alfred wasn't sure they'd be able to maintain their Special Relationship. So he'd just have to learn to be as strong as Arthur, and then, maybe, one day, he could tell him in retrospect that he had always striven to be like the island nation.

But between now and then, he would still relish Arthur and his muscles, his fortitude. He would watch him while he worked in his garden, pulling weeds and digging holes for the new rose bushes he made Alfred haul into the yard. They would wrestle, sometimes, and Alfred would crow when he won and sigh happily to himself when he lost. He would grab Arthur and throw him over his shoulder to go get ice cream, and Arthur would push him up against the wall in a broom closet between meetings to kiss Alfred senseless. And Alfred would soak up every minute of it, linking his large, work-calloused hands with Arthur's, and giving the thin fingers a quick squeeze- which would be returned with equal strength.