Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, Fall Out Boy, The Outsiders, Harry Potter, Green Day or Titanic.
Chapter 7: I've Got Headaches and Bad Luck But They Couldn't Touch You
They were wimps.
"I cannot believe you wankers left the house because there was no hot water."
The Kirkland brothers eyed Arthur with varying degrees of shame. Jon and Peter had the decency to at least hang their heads.
"I guess I could've used extra blankets instead of burdening Jesse like that. " Jon murmured absently.
"So I wanted to party at my best friend's house. At least I wasn't the first eejit to run. The only reason I left was because Draco left," Mac claimed, looking for a scapegoat. Draco didn't skip a beat.
"Hell if I'm going to stay in a freezing house."
Arthur shook his head, pausing to sneeze. It was chilly in the Kirkland household. He could rant about it all he wanted, but it wouldn't change the fact that abandoning the place overnight was a good idea. The extra blankets they had were thin. One would have to combine the winter blankets on their beds to stay warm. And combining the blankets would mean the boys and Holly would have to sleep side by side in front of the fireplace. Between Peter's kicking habit, Draco's snoring, and Mac's late night bathroom journeys, the experience would be terrible.
Shivering, the blonde zipped Gil's hoodie higher and slowly began to eat his cold cereal. The youth gave him the sweater just that morning when he pointed out that Arthur only had a t-shirt when it was 30 degrees outside. ("Getting sick is so unawesome, especially before Thanksgiving Break!")
Peter coughed, whining about tea moments later.
"The gas on the oven won't light up dearest," Holly said tiredly. "But everything should be fixed by noon."
"You called someone?" Arthur inquired.
She shook her head, drawing her mug of milk from her lips.
"I told the Jones' about our problem and George volunteered to come take a look at our system with Alfred. Apparently they had a similar problem last year. You could help them Artsy! You didn't go see Alfred yesterday after all."
The temperature dropped. An anxiety built up in him at the thought of another confrontation.
"Really? I'll probably miss him then. I was planning on going to the library."
"I could ask him to wait-."
"No. I really need to finish an English project. I won't be back until six or seven."
Holly gave her son a calculative gaze to which he met with one of innocence. She was the first to look away, but the discussion was far from over.
"You and I need to have a talk Mister. A little heart to heart."
Arthur's face paled.
"I-I have to check my email. See if Macy is going to cross the pond for Thanksgiving. She's been working hard."
Mac was the first to make his escape. Jon shortly followed, pulling the old homework explanation. Peter declared that he 'needed to take a piss'. And Draco came up with the half-arsed excuse that he needed to help Peter, leaving Arthur all alone with Holly.
"Alfred told me something interesting yesterday."
The blonde was silent. His guts churned, threatening to send back the little food he ate. He hoped his mother would equate the shivering of his numb hand to the cold. Did Alfred tell her about the fight? Or maybe the not-kiss?
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to the Vargas' yesterday? I would have made a batch of brownies for you to bring."
The relief was unbelievable.
"It was a random decision to go. Romano invited me to a party so I went."
"Oh, it wasn't Feliciano?"
"No. Why?"
The woman shrugged.
"Alfred said Feliciano invited him so I thought you two went together. So it was only you and Romano?"
"No. Francis, Roderich, Matthew, Elizaveta, Gilbert, and Antonio came with us."
Holly looked at her son, eyes watering. He already knew what was coming. Arthur ran to get the tissues.
"Mum, there's no need to cry. I didn't do anything bad."
The woman held her son's face in her hands.
"Oh, but my baby boy has more than 3 close friends. This means I lost the bet."
"What bet?"
She blew her nose.
"The one I made with your father before he passed. I thought you would be fine with Alfred, Matthew and one friend you would make in college. He thought you would be with some group of really close friends all through your life like he was. He said he had a dream about it."
So his father was psychic? Bloody hell, that was alarming.
"What were the terms of the bet?"
"Since I lost, I have to pour expensive wine over his grave every week for as long as I remember."
"But Dad didn't drink."
"He said he wouldn't have to worry about getting hammered if he was dead."
The woman gave her son a small smile.
"You father was always such a prankster. He loved telling jokes. I think that's why he didn't drink. He wanted to remember the crazy things his friends did at parties so he could retell them."
A small sob escaped her. Arthur knelt before her again, giving her an awkward hug.
"I…could go with you if you like."
"Lovely, we're going this Saturday."
She jumped up and kissed her son on the forehead with a light laugh. She moved to leave, paused, and turned the shocked teen.
"Artie," He glanced up. She grinned. "I'm proud of you."
Holly ignored her son's bewildered look. Grabbing her broom, she waltzed out the door, yelling about how the house had to be clean before the Jones' arrived.
Feeling as if he were just scammed, Arthur slowly followed after. He left the kitchen, expecting to quickly clean his room (bonus points if he played some Green Day while doing it) and pack up a messenger bag full of his usual writing materials, just in case he got an idea while in the library.
But Draco had to prevent all that.
"We need to talk little bro."
The blonde almost missed the feeling of being thrown over Draco's shoulder. The red head ran up into his own room, throwing Arthur on his bed and locking the door behind him.
It was crazy how similar the man's room was to his own. They both had their guitars standing up by their bookcase, and various sheets of music lying around it. Arthur wondered if Draco sat on the floor when he played like he did.
The scent of smoke was a constant in the bedroom. Fearing for his lungs, Arthur sank his face into Draco's lush, black pillow, eying his brother with suspicion. The man sneered, plopping down next to his 'favorite little brother'.
"So what's this I hear about Baby Artie getting a tattoo?"
Arthur's face turned sheet white.
"You followed me to school?"
"No, I stalked you. There's a difference. Following is legal and prim and proper, while stalking is harassment, which is illegal and makes me look like a badass."
Arthur threw the pillow he was lying on.
"Tosser. I'm not telling you a single thing."
"Aww, you never tell me anything anymore Arthur."
"Maybe it's because you act like such a prick whenever I do?"
"Just explain yourself and I won't tell Mum."
"No! I refuse!"
"How can you say no to this kind of face? Come on Taikos, give him your pretty littl' cute look."
Draco held his small tiger up to Arthur. Both the man's and the animal's eyes go ridiculously wide, portraying virtuousness.
"Valor's cuter."
The tiger cub seemed to scowl as it jumped out of Draco's hands and clawed the door. The red head opened the entrance and it ran off, no doubt to find the lion that rivaled it in attractiveness.
"Here's my conditions. You let me go with you, and I won't tell Mumsy about this whole tattoo business and you joining the occult."
"The what?"
"Your little group? You know, the guys that want you to join them in the great witch hunts and soul eating."
"Draco I am not a part of the occult! None of my friends are either you twat!"
"It's okay little brother. We're all confused at one point of our lives."
Arthur rolled his eyes, deciding to drop the topic.
"Why do you want to go?"
"To talk you out of it of course. I mean, you'll probably chicken out at the last second, but I need to go just in case you put up a brave front," Draco leered at his brother. "I'm the only delinquent in this family. Do you understand Artsy?"
The sophomore broke eye contact, nodding slowly. The elder clapped a huge hand on his brother's shoulder, applying enough pressure to make him squirm.
"Glad we had this discussion. Now get the hell out of my room."
"Bloody hell," he muttered as he moved to clean his messy room.
He really shouldn't have tossed his things around last night. His sanctuary was uncharacteristically chaotic, almost like Peter's bedroom. It took his longer to than expected to clean up his clothes, bed and CD stack. By the time he was finished, it was already 10 AM, which meant Al could come by at any minute. He frantically packed his black messenger bag and ran down the stairs.
Arthur already had one foot out the front door when Holly chose to yank him back in.
"Did you clean your room? Alfred may want to 'hang out' there."
"Yes Mumsy. Now I've got to go."
"Not so fast lad," The woman pulled her son's collar once more. "You can get at the living room."
Biting back a groan, Arthur quickly got to work. He still had time. Maybe if he hurried…
DING-DONG!
Or maybe he didn't have time. Anxiety threatened to shut off his ability to breathe as he searched for an escape route. The backdoor wasn't an option. Alfred would see him running. He could hide in his room and wait until Al was working in the basement. But his bedroom was the first place the teen would look for him.
So, instead, he hid in Jon's room. His brother's blue eyes didn't look up from his computer as Arthur snuck in. Quietly, he took off his sneakers, peeking at Jon in time to see him tucking a wisp of caramel colored hair behind his ear.
The blonde lay on the bed with his back to the door to give the illusion of slumber.
"Did you two get into a little lover's quarrel?"
"We're not lovers."
"You do know that no one is going to persecute you for being homosexual. When Mac told Mother he was bisexual, she was completely comfortable with him. If I recall correctly, she said, 'Great! Less grandkids to feed at Christmas!'"
Arthur smiled at this. Holly was tolerant of most people. It was a useful trait, considering how all her boys had the weirdest quirks.
If only Gilbert's parents were the same way.
"Then again, you are not worried about Mother are you? Alfred is the problem here is he not?"
The blonde didn't answer. He heard Jon sigh, and the sound of a chair swiveling around.
"I apologize. I heard a majority of your fight yesterday and the conversation he had with someone later. I did not mean to eavesdrop."
" It's f'ne." Arthur mumbled.
"Judging by what I heard, I do not believe his wishes are to see you. Listen, there are no voices downstairs. Alfred is probably in the basement. You can escape now. But hurry up and make up with him." The chair swiveled again. "And give yourself more credit. He may like you more than you think."
Arthur whipped his head around to question Jon, but the 17-year old already had his headphones on with some odd New Wave music blaring through.
He put his shoes back on, grabbed his messenger bag and gave his adoptive brother a quick punch in the shoulder to signal his departure.
"Diolch." He thanked him quietly before closing the door behind him. If he lingered a little longer, he may have seen the small, knowing grin on Jon's face.
As he tip-toed past Peter's slightly open door, the child's obnoxious laugh rang out.
"That's so awesome!"
Arthur paused, ready to tell his brother to quiet down, but when he peeked in, he saw an all too familiar mop of blonde hair.
Alfred was dressed down. With his black t-shirt, gray sweatpants and Batman socks, he looked as if he simply got up, slipped on his Adidas sandals and walked over.
Knowing him, that probably was what the boy did.
With a slight frown, he noted that the teen didn't bother to run a comb through his hair. Along with his usual rebellious tuft, other hairs stood. His bangs were a complete mess.
Once again, Peter laughed, dragging Arthur away from thoughts of running his hands through the ruffled mop.
"Aww man! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die!"
"No you won't. Not if I can help it! Here, let's try this."
Ever so gently, Alfred guided Peter's finger across the touch screen. Eyes wide, Arthur was covered with a deep scarlet blush.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
"Oh! Thanks Al! You're the best-est hero in the world!"
"Only doing my job wanna play another one?"
Pound. Pound. Pound.
"Aww man, you beat my high score!"
" Of course I did! I'm awesome!"
"Oooh, come 'ere you little twerp!"
The two howled with mirth as the elder gave Peter a noogie.
'Al would make a great father.'
Pound. Pound. Pound.
'What the hell is that noise?'
Arthur glanced down at his chest, which was tightening by the minute.
"Fuck," he whispered. The jock glanced up as the punk did. Their eyes met. The pounding stopped.
Then Arthur ran out of his own house as fast as his skinny legs could go.
-T.A.O.K.T.P-
The Brit was calmer when he had a cup of tea in his hands. He had stopped at a small café on his way to the library. Just by stepping into the establishment, his panic drifted away. It was splendid first, but he forgot the library's no food or drink rule.
"Is there any specific reason as to why you have a beverage in my building young man?"
The librarian's beady eyes leered down at him, as if he were the worm to her wrinkled, old raven.
Flustered, Arthur searched for a sensible answer.
"I-."
"He is just doing me a favor. Do not get your panties in a twist."
He looked into the eyes of his savior, relief painting his expression in gratitude.
Arthur had never seen the teen, despite the fact that his appearance could draw heads from a mile away. His blonde hair was untamable, swooping to his right. Red highlighted the bush of blonde, matching the muscle shirt that bore the flag of Denmark. His gray jeans were ripped beyond repair and stuffed into black Doc Marten's. He smirked down at the lady, making sure to flash the metal on his leather jacket. The teen was at least two feet taller than the woman. Intimidating her wasn't too hard. She scuttled away, muttering about today's youth under her breath
When his savior grinned at Arthur, a lip ring shone in the light. Blue eyes gave him a look full of interest, as if Arthur was some new spectacle.
"Thanks for the coffee newb." The taller snatched the cup. Whatever gratitude Arthur had, quickly disappeared.
"Bastard that's my-!"
"Ugh, what is this stuff? Take it back! That is disgusting."
Glaring at the stranger, he snatched back his tea cup and tossed it in the nearest trash can. (The librarian gave him withering glare that he conveniently ignored.)
The mysterious boy grabbed Arthur's hand and led him to the back of the building, chattering all the while.
"I legit just saved you back there bro. You owe me. Gil has told me all about you. Oh wait, better introduce myself first. I am Jesper Dane, Senior. I moved here from Denmark about a year ago so do not be too surprised if I say something in Danish every once in a while. Just point it out to me you know? I like big axes, rock n' roll, mostly the Misfits, and I am really good friends with your buddy Gilbert. Unless you're not Arthur. But you have to be Arthur. Who else has eyebrows that big? Oh, and I own that weirdo so do not try anything."
Arthur, overwhelmed, just barely managed to keep up with the Dane's conversation, realizing late that the other was pointing at someone.
His companion peered at the two from above a copy of The Outsiders. Despite their dullness, the adolescent's blue eyes rooted Arthur to the floor. They were like winter blizzards, freezing whoever dared to pry too deep into the irises. Wiry, light blonde hair was hurriedly brushed to the boy's right. The tufts that remained on the left were tucked into a silver cross barette.
The book was set down as Jesper forced Arthur forward, revealing thin lips and a pale, immaculate complexion.
The teen stood, showing off his violet V-neck sweater, casual jeans and moccasins. Compared to Jesper, the youth dressed rather plainly. For a second, they simply eyed each other.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Arthur Kirkland."
The other's expression remained blank as he looked between the extended hand and Jesper.
"Hvem faen er han?"
"Han er Gil ven. Ikke være uhøflig. Ryst hånden."
The odd teen nodded and firmly shook the extended palm.
"My name is Norge."
"What an interesting name Norge."
Norge withdrew his hand, as if he were bitten, and returned to his seat.
"Sit," Jesper commanded. Arthur, intimidated by the much taller, stronger, and older teen, did exactly as he said. Once again those dull blue eyes stared him down.
"Your aura is cerulean and gold with pink. You have integrity, respect for others and a free spirit, but there is sadness or worry. About a lover I presume. Judging by the fading lime green, you also had the sight at one point. Perhaps when you were younger."
"E-Excuse me?"
"That's just Norgie reading auras. He does that when someone seems stressed." Jesper explained. The strange teen ignored him, giving all his attention to Arthur.
"You have a problem, and you need advice from someone that is not close to you. An outsider's perspective."
"From what I have heard," the tallest blonde started, throwing an arm about the Brit's shoulders. "You have gotten yourself into quite a mess at school. Since Norgie refuses to talk to me,"
The quieter gave no indication of hearing this statement. Jesper pouted, displeased.
"I guess you can tell me all about your problems instead."
"I-If I refuse?"
"Then Mrs. Librarian will find an open beer can under your seat and call the police due to an underage drinker."
Arthur didn't need to think twice.
"Well, uh, it all started during this American Soccer game…"
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
"Wow, and all this happened within a month?"
"Indeed, it was quite stressful."
Arthur sipped his now cold tea, tired from telling his long tale.
"There is one thing I do not like about this though."
"Speak freely."
"First of all, you changed yourself to suit the tastes of another."
"I did," Arthur agreed. "Which probably was not the best method. Bu in the end it was a really good choice. I feel freer for some reason. I guess changing the way I dressed switched something in me."
Jesper, however, was unconvinced.
"Before skinny-dipping into relationships,"
"It is diving. Before diving into relationships," Norge corrected, nose in novel.
"Yes, yes. Before diving into relationships, you have to know more about yourself. You seem unsure. If you only give half of yourself, you will end up unhappy. Trust me, I have many years on you."
Arthur nodded, taking the advice into consideration.
"And tread carefully into the punk lifestyle. Take things too fast and you will self-destruct. Make sure you know how to recognize different types of people, especially the ones that are involved with drugs. Gil will help you."
"How do you know Gilbert?"
"We are soda drinking buddies!"
The Brit raised a brow.
"Only soda?"
"Well, I drink beer. He drinks soda."
"I see. Well, it has been fun chatting with you chaps. If you excuse me,"
"Wait."
Norge placed the book in the nearest shelf, finished with it. He held Arthu'sr gaze as he sat back down, somehow compelling the Brit to sit with him.
"Listen to Jesper's music."
The Danish youth gave his friend a short look before offering his earbuds to Arthur.
A chorus of indistinguishable screams attacked his eardrums as the squeal of a guitar stabbed the earlobe.
"Gah!" He tore the device out.
"You are more of an alternative rock or even a punk than a metal," The boy's intense stare seemed to ice over Arthur's very core. "Stick with what you know and what you want, and let no one change your opinion for you."
Then Norge stood.
"Watch out for yourself and whatever you care about. I see a great war in your future. Come Jesper. Berwald is waiting for us in the car."
The Senior followed his friend.
"Ooh, can we go to the cinema? I wish to watch Titanic?"
"No."
The Brit watched them go, admiring how close they seemed.
Do what he wanted, huh?
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
It was about 5 when Arthur returned to his house. He cleaned his Vans on the doormat, and took his sweet time when walking in, shuffling through a handful of mail and yelling at his brothers to,
"Check the bloody oven before the damn chicken explodes again!"
It was 5:03 when he crashed into a broad chest. Two arms grabbed him by the shoulder, steadying him.
"Whoa. You alright Artie?"
"A-Alfred!"
The American grinned at him sheepishly.
" 'Sup dude?'
Bewildered, Arthur looked past him, expecting to find Matthew giving him an apologetic glance. When he doesn't, he fixed his old companion with an odd look.
"Why are you still here? Where's your dad?"
"He went home. I stayed so I could talk to fairy-boy and give him an apology."
"Keep the apology. I-It wasn't your fault really. Fairy-boy was out of line."
The two stared at their feet, ashamed. For a second, Arthur considered running out again but…
Stick with what you know and what you want
"So what did you and your father do?"
"Fixed the boiler, looked over anything your heating system. You guys should be fine now. And I painted a Union Flag poster for Pete. He needed it to represent his homeland for some Social Studies project."
Did Alfred really say 'Union Flag' instead of 'Union Jack'? Pleased, Arthur took his newfound forgiveness a step further.
"Hey, uh, I know it's late but do you want to watch a film?"
"Is it the new Harry Potter?"
"I have parts one and two. I would have invited you to watch it earlier, but you seemed really busy."
"With what?"
"Tino."
And so the awkwardness began.
"You should really get to know him. He's a great guy."
"Really? I bet he is." Arthur said airily. He grabbed the DVDs from the shelf and squatted to adjust the DVD player.
"Yeah. He makes me laugh and he's really great at-."
"Do you want to eat lunch first? Or should we just skip to the-?"
Voices from the kitchen interrupted his statement. Surprised, Arthur craned his neck to listen.
"Oh my God Draco. What the hell is that thing?"
"It's a meatloaf 'f course. What else can it be?"
"I thought we were eating chicken!"
"Smelt like some'ne was baking a pie 'hirty minutes ago."
"I thought the milk was going bad forty minutes ago."
"Really? I thought Valor just peed on my floor again."
Red-faced, Arthur slowly turned to Alfred, who almost choked with restrained laughter.
Leave it to his brothers to stop a fight.
"Should we order a pizza and just eat some popcorn?"
The American only nodded, giggles overwhelming him.
About 4 hours later, all the Kirkland boys and Alfred F. Jones are gathered around the TV, watching the 2nd Harry Potter movie with wide eyes and anxious hearts. Their stomachs were filled with pizza and soda pop (Brisk Iced Tea for Peter and Heineken for Draco) and their apple pie slices and cups of tea sat on the table, untouched. Arthur didn't trust himself to pick up the cup for fear of spilling it on Alfred, who was clutching the Brit's shoulders and murmuring something about, 'Nose-less freaks' and 'Super Heroic Ginger Twins'.
Just as the climax began, the door burst open, sending Peter and Alfred into hysterics. The athlete, still holding Arthur, ran up the stairs and locked the two of them in the safest place in the house: Arthur's room.
"You are overreacting Alfred. It's just a film."
"No way man! I swear, the Dark Lord is back, and he'll come after all the mudbloods first! Which means you and I are dead!"
"First of all, call him Voldemort. Second, we're just muggles Al. Even if he was real, he wouldn't come after us…At least not yet."
Arthur patted the boy's hand comfortingly. Honestly, he always overreacted when it came to even the slightest scary movies. Arthur wasn't surprised when Alfred pulled him close out of fear. It was their usual routine. He was alarmed, however, when Alfred somehow tripped making the two of them land in a disgruntled heap, Alfred on top of Arthur. They remain frozen for a minute, red tinting their faces and their hearts clenching. Jade greens traveled down to the pale pink lips that jut out cutely, and then snapped back up.
"G-Get off me you git!"
"Ha-ha, sorry Artie."
"You'd better be! I trust that you aren't frightened anymore?"
"I-I'm fine. I guess I should go home now huh?"
Arthur looked away with a huff. Why did his blush refuse to back down?
"Do as you like."
"G-Got it. See you tomorrow?"
The statement ends off as a question. An interrogation that Arthur doesn't know how to answer.
"Good night Alfred." The adolescent said tiredly.
"Sleep tight Artie."
Boy was he in for an interesting day at school.
-S.S.C.O.T.Y-
Sorry this chapter is so short. The one's that end story arcs and begin them are probably going to be shorter than the rest.
The Nordics aren't really going to play a major part. They're more of the observers that occasionally take action. Except Tino. How did I do with Denmark and Norway's characterization? Ok? Terrible? Needs a bit more work?
Finally, about Liechtenstein and Vash, do you guys prefer them as siblings or just really close friends? You can vote, PM me or review your answer. (The plot will be different depending on the winning choice)
Preview: Alfred and Arthur may have forgiven each other for the fight, but will a new conflict completely ruin their reunion? When Arthur finds out exactly what goes on at the jock table, a war erupts. Popular kids vs. Outcasts. And the Bad Touch Trio and Arthur get to fight the first battle.