-Nothing you can say can stop me going home.-
Famous Last Words; My Chemical Romance
-Hetalia-
Arthur hated Scott. Not exclusively; Arthur hated all his half-brothers, and even Peter annoyed him. But Scott was the worst.
They were beyond the innocent taunts of Arty Farty and Scott Got Shot, both of which were hardly traumatizing and the name calling had ended rather quickly. They'd even outgrown the days of dying each other's clothes pink in the wash. Now that the both of them were out of high school, they'd entered a time of psychological warfare. Physical beatings were hardly out of the question, though. There were just more options now.
Arthur hated Scott. Scott hated Arthur.
Thus, the globe spun on.
Palindromes aside, Arthur was holed up in his bedroom in order to avoid the Scotsman until Alfred showed up to cart him off to their date. Peter had a football match, which was both a blessing and a curse. The good news was that for once, Arthur had the bedroom to himself. The bad news was that the only adults home were, therefore, himself and his older brothers, sans Owen who was away in Wales, and the car the boys shared was at the mechanic's. Arthur's only option, really, was to keep to the bedroom and pray he wouldn't have to shove a dresser in front of the door again to keep his tormentor out. Last time he tried to use one as a barricade, he nearly broke Peter's lamp.
Arthur constantly looked at the clock, and then back at his cell phone, waiting for it to be time for Alfred to arrive and save him from this hell. He was tempted several times to simply call Alfred and tell him to come early, but that was a bit rude and would also mean admitting defeat; something he'd never do. If he could handle the several broken noses he'd received from his older brothers, he could manage to wait an hour in his room.
It still was a great relief to see Alfred's truck driving down the street.
Unfortunately, Arthur's relief died young when he left the sanctuary of his shared bedroom and entered the main hallway, for leaning against the front door was the unmistakable figure of Scott, arms crossed and a smirk holding his cigarette. Which, Arthur would like to point out, he wasn't supposed to be smoking inside. Or at all, really, but he'd gotten away with it by swearing to keep it outdoors.
Arthur grit his teeth and kept calm.
"Where d'you think you're goin'?" Scott asked as Arthur walked down the hall.
"Out," Arthur answered curtly. The less he gave Scott, the less there would be to turn against him in the long run. Besides, it wasn't any of Scott's business, and Arthur was an adult now. He could do what he wanted.
"Not if y'cannae get through the door. Who ya goin' with, lad?" Scott pressed on, not moving so much as a centimeter. Arthur took a slow breath and wished Alfred would just come up and knock on the door already.
"Alfred," he answered when it was clear he'd have no such luck.
"Oh, he's the weird one with the jacket, right?"
"Sometimes, yes."
"Where ya goin'?"
In any normal family, it would seem Scott was just being protective, or just a bit nosy. Arthur could only wish they were normal. This was pre-emptive blackmail. Scott didn't have anything on him yet, but he was going to get some here and now, and there was nothing Arthur could do about it. This was their latest game, a game orchestrated by Scott because he was still bigger than Arthur, and if the Brit didn't play, he'd have to endure a beating in a fight he couldn't win. Blackmail was the lesser of two evils.
"He didn't say," Arthur lied. Either Scott saw through the lie or he'd found that information useful, because his smirk widened. Before he could respond, though, Alfred finally knocked on the door. Scott stood up straight and opened it just enough to fit his entire form in the doorway.
"Mornin' to ya," he greeted. It was around one in the afternoon. Arthur refrained from commenting as he made his way closer, wondering how much effort it would take to shove Scott aside, and just how fast would he have to run afterwards.
"'Sup, Scott," Arthur heard Alfred respond. Arthur looked for a way around his older brother; unfortunately, Scott was holding the door firmly and blocking the entire doorway with his body, effectively trapping Arthur.
Just as he was considering leaping out of his bedroom window, his brother stepped aside.
"Enjoy your date," Scott snorted, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. Arthur couldn't resist the comeback he felt rising as he passed. With a glance to Alfred to warn him, Arthur smirked.
"Enjoy your sheep," he shot back. Scott shoved himself up off the wall and Arthur bolted to the truck, Alfred half a second behind him. As he scrambled into the truck, Arthur looked over his shoulder to see Scott right on their heels.
"Shit, drive, drive!" Arthur hissed as Alfred slammed his door. Neither bothered with seatbelts as Alfred shoved the keys in the ignition and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. They took off, leaving the furious Scott in their dust. Alfred was laughing as he turned the corner and buckled his seatbelt.
"Dude, you're toast when you get back," he said. Arthur let out a sigh as he buckled his own seatbelt.
"Yes...hopefully Peter's football game will be over by then," Arthur said, leaning against the door.
"I thought he was in soccer."
"It's the same thing, git."
"No it's not. Soccer's with a black and white ball. Football's got the pig-skin ball. Plus there's like rules and stuff that are different." They'd been having this argument for years, and Arthur was under the impression that Alfred only even brought it up anymore for entertainment purposes. Arthur had had enough fighting for one day, though.
"Just drop it," he huffed. "We're nearly there anyway, aren't we?" he asked.
Alfred nodded. "Yeah, like five minutes away. You wanna eat first?" he asked, glancing at Arthur for a moment before turning back to the road. Arthur nodded.
"Yes, please. I've been hiding in my bedroom all day, so I haven't had anything yet."
"Jeez, dude. I dunno how you do it! I'd have died or something if I hadn't eaten all day. You should have called me, I could've come over sooner," he said as the mall came within sight. "I could have rescued you and been a total hero!"
Arthur scoffed. "I can survive a few hours without a meal, Alfred. Either way, let's just focus on enjoying ourselves, yes?" Alfred nodded as they pulled into the packing lot.
"C'mon, let's go get lunch," he said as they left the truck. Arthur followed.
Alfred, unsurprisingly, ordered more food than any normal human being should have been able to consume, while Arthur just ordered himself a nice sandwich. They sat near a large fountain on Arthur's suggestion, and it became apparent from Alfred's first bite that there wouldn't be much conversation until after the food was gone. Arthur was used to this, of course, but that didn't mean he liked it.
Alfred had finished eating his massive amount of food before Arthur finished his little sandwich, and the Brit could see the people at the food stall handing one another money. They'd betted on whether or not the lunatic would finish his meal. Again. Arthur grit his teeth.
"Alright, dude, where d'you wanna go? My treat," Alfred grinned once Arthur had finished his food. Arthur shrugged and they began walking about the mall side by side. Arthur couldn't entirely ignore the nagging voice in his head that whined about the lack of romance in this date. Turning his head to look for a distraction, he spotted Doctor Who merchandise and smiled.
"In there," he answered, nodding to the store. Alfred grinned and led the way in.
"Hey, we could come here for the band, too," Alfred said as he held up a spiked collar for Arthur to investigate. Arthur nodded, eyes scanning the store for other things that could fit the rocker look they'd want to go for. There were plenty, it seemed. Arthur gestured towards a pair of pants in the corner, which Alfred rushed over to.
By the time they left the store, they'd wasted a good half hour planning the band's wardrobe, and Arthur heard that nagging voice now louder than ever. Despite the fact that Alfred, true to his word, had bought Arthur a few Doctor Who things in the store, this outing hardly felt romantic.
Things only got worse when they stopped at a smoothie stand.
Arthur wasn't generally a jealous person. He'd dated Francis, after all. Every time they'd broken up there were others brought in for a one night stand – on either side, if he were being honest – until they got back together. But when he and Francis were together, Francis had the decency to refrain from flirting with ex-boyfriends. Oblivious or not, Alfred had no excuse.
At first, the sight of the tall Russian made Arthur nervous that there would be a fight. Alfred and Ivan hated one another more days than not. The breakup hadn't been terribly messy, but a lot of things happened afterward to pit them against one another in sexual-tension-fueled hatred.
"Hello, Alfred," Ivan greeted when it became apparent Alfred hadn't noticed him. Alfred nearly jumped before turning around to glare at the Russian, and Arthur tensed, ready to break up the oncoming brawl.
"Commie," Alfred nodded in greeting. They both stood with heads held high, glaring challengingly at one another, like a pair of dogs sizing each other up. Ivan laughed jovially. Arthur swallowed.
"It is so good to see you, da? It's nice to see friends over the summer," Ivan said sweetly. He pronounced 'friends' oddly, and Arthur had a feeling that it wasn't to emphasize the loss of their once strong friendship. Alfred's eyes glinted with dark amusement and the thrill that rose just before a fight. Arthur knew the feeling well.
"Yeah, it was nice, until you turned up." Alfred grinned. The energy between them grew more intense, tightening like a wire pulled at either end, and it was beginning to add to Arthur's already edgy nerves. He'd hoped for some relief from the stess caused by being trapped with Liam and Scott, but it seemed the universe was against him.
"That is not very nice, Alfred," Ivan scolded in his childlike tone. Arthur kept his eyes locked on Alfred, waiting for the first signs of a fight. "I would have thought you would have found my presence to be…how do you say…rousing?" Arthur had a feeling Ivan knew very well that was the wrong word.
"If by rousing you meant disturbing, yeah," Alfred snorted. They shared a heated glare, Alfred's smirk contrasting Ivan's would-be innocent smile. Arthur recognized a certain spark in Ivan's eyes; he'd seen a similar glint in Francis's far too many times.
"I do not think that is how you truly feel," Ivan replied. Arthur's patience had already been worn thin by Scott, and the glance Ivan spared him snapped whatever he had left.
"I'll show you what I 'truly feel,'" Alfred said, mimicking Ivan's accent. He formed a fist and Arthur knew Alfred's patience had gone as well.
"Let's just go, Alfred," he intervened, taking the younger by the wrist and dragging him away from the stand. Ivan stared after them, smile still on his face.
"Enjoy your date!" he called after them. Arthur resisted the urge to glare back at him. Alfred turned and stuck his tongue out at the Russian.
"Take me home," Arthur huffed. Alfred raised his eyebrows.
"You sure? We haven't been here very long," he said.
"I want to go home," Arthur insisted. Alfred frowned.
"Since when?"
"Since I was nearly drowned in your sexual tension."
Alfred stared at him as if he'd just announced he wanted to marry Scott. "What?"
"You and Ivan have some serious unresolved issues," Arthur said, walking a bit faster as he led the way back to the exit. Alfred picked up his pace to keep up.
"Yeah...What, did you think we were gonna start beating each other up? We don't do that in public anymore - people break us up before we can even start."
"It looked more like he was going to pin you to an alley wall and take you dry," Arthur huffed, opening the doors and stalking into the parking lot. Alfred choked on air behind him.
"What the hell?" he managed to gasp out. "Ew! Dude, no. Just. NO."
"He was flirting with you, Alfred," Arthur said. He came to a stop by the truck.
"No way, dude! I would know if he was flirting with me. There's no way."
"Just take me home," Arthur insisted, opening the door once Alfred unlocked the truck, the conversation paused for as long as it took them to buckle in. Then Alfred pressed on.
"Seriously, we weren't flirting."
"Either way, this was hardly a romantic outing," Arthur said. They pulled out of the parking lot.
"..I'm sorry, Iggy," Alfred sounded like a child who'd been wrongly scolded. Arthur sighed.
"How about I choose our next date," he offered. Alfred nodded.
"Sure, anything you want."
"Take me out to dinner. A nice, romantic restaurant, just the two of us."
Alfred nodded again, quick and eager. "Yeah, okay. When?"
"I have Sunday night off. Let's go then." Alfred agreed and they drove back in silence.
"Oh, hey, before I forget," Alfred said once they'd arrived at Arthur's house, "Gil came over the other day with the music and stuff. Here's your parts." He pulled some sheets of paper out of the center console and handed them over.
"Thanks," Arthur said, taking the sheets. Scott was on the front step now, watching them. Arthur frowned and climbed out of the truck without another word.
He really hoped his parents were home.
-H-
Arthur had been lucky and come home to find the whole family in the living room, meaning he could slip off to his room with the excuse of having to prepare for university and not be pursued by his brothers. He was also lucky enough to get out of the house on Sunday without a confrontation, and made it safely into Alfred's truck, but that was the end of his luck.
They drove in a comfortable silence together, though Arthur could tell Alfred was a bit nervous. He clearly wanted to make up for their last trip to the mall. Arthur smiled, grateful. Alfred's heart was really in the right place, in the end.
It was a relatively short drive, and soon Alfred was hopping out of the truck, going as far as to open Arthur's door for him. They didn't walk arm in arm, but Arthur didn't mind. He noted, as they entered, that the name of the restaurant was familiar, though he'd never been there before. He couldn't quite place where he'd heard its name, and so he pushed it aside as they were seated and informed that their server would be with them shortly.
The waiter arrived with their menus, and as Arthur looked up to accept his, he was startled to recognize the man. The waiter looked uncomfortable to say the least, and Arthur finally remembered where he'd heard the name of the restaurant before.
This was where Francis bloody Bonnefoy worked.
Alfred bit his lip and looked between them, as though he was expecting a fight. Francis, however, just composed himself and smiled.
"Hello and welcome to The Vine. I am Francis and I will be your server for tonight. What would you like to drink?"
They pretended this was perfectly normal and placed their orders, Arthur cringing slightly when Alfred's answer was "A Coke." Francis spared him a superior look, fortunately, and simply nodded, promising to return shortly. Arthur forced himself to look over the menu.
"Please, don't order a whole bunch of food," he begged Alfred. Alfred looked up over the top of his menu, startled.
"What d'you mean?"
"I mean you usually order far more than any average human being could possibly eat, and then you proceed to stuff your face until you nearly gag. That's not exactly proper, nor romantic." Alfred raised an eyebrow at the criticism.
After a moment, he shrugged, albeit with a defeated expression. "Sure, dude, whatever," he said. "I'll just get the burger thing they - what?" He'd seen Arthur scowl.
"A burger, Alfred? That's hardly something one orders at a place like this-"
"And here are your drinks," Francis interrupted them. "Do you know what you would like to eat? Or shall I give you more time?" Arthur caught the subtle smirk on the Frenchman's face and knew that he was waiting for Alfred to do something embarrassing.
"We need a minute," he said quickly. Francis smiled smugly and nodded before leaving for another table.
"So I can't have a burger?" Alfred asked, one eyebrow raised.
"No. You can have a steak or pasta or something. Just so long as it's more formal than a burger." Alfred sighed, sounding aggravated, but nodded.
"And don't bother with these desserts," Arthur added as he looked over the menu.
"What? Why not?"
"They're just a waste of money. You could get cake or ice cream anywhere, don't let him tempt you just because the picture looks nice."
"'Have you decided?" Francis reappeared. Arthur nodded.
-H-
Despite the Frenchman's near constant presence - business was slow tonight and Francis insisted on returning to their table, claiming he wanted to be sure they had everything they needed - Arthur and Alfred tried to make civil conversation and enjoy one another's presence. It wasn't easy. Arthur could tell Alfred was a little annoyed that he was being told what to do. Francis could apparently tell as well, because every time he passed by their table, he looked more and more smug. Arthur had to admit he wasn't enjoying himself either.
"Will there be anything else?" Francis asked eventually. Arthur opened his mouth to answer no, but Alfred beat him to it.
"Yeah, what kinds of cake do you guys have again?" Arthur glared at him, but Alfred seemed oblivious, his attention focused on the Frenchman as he rattled off a list. "Cool. I'll have the Black Forest Cake, please," Alfred smiled.
"Oui, of course. And anything for you?" Francis turned to Arthur, smirking when he saw the Brit's expression. Arthur gritted his teeth and forced himself to calm down.
"No, thank you."
Francis nodded and left them. Arthur glared at Alfred.
"What?"
"I told you not to," Arthur said.
"Dude, chill out. It's just a little sugar, okay? And Black Forest Cake is kinda fancy. What's the big deal?"
"He played you."
"What?"
"The tip is a percentage of the bill. The frog was just trying to con you into spending more money so he could get a bigger tip."
"Dude, chill out," Alfred repeated, raising his eyebrows. "I just ordered some cake."
"Well I certainly hope you enjoy it," Arthur huffed, rising from his seat.
"Where are you going?" Alfred asked, frowning.
"Home," Arthur answered curtly before storming out and starting on the long walk back. The night air did little to cool his temper.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading this story. Here's a chapter from Arthur's angle, and it's twice as long as the other chapters, if that makes up for anything. I really am terrible at writing from Arthur's point of view. Or writing anything to do with Arthur. I feel bad about that, for some reason...
The history in this story is obviously not very linear. Here we have some hints at the Cold War (which I actually didn't learn about in school, so please forgive my ignorance if I've done something wrong. Ironically my advanced American history class didn't get very far past WWII...). We've also got the Navigation Acts (Arthur didn't want Alfred having anything to do with either Ivan nor Francis, just as England tried to control all of America's trade back in the colonial period) and the Molasses Act (England tried to get America to stop trading for sugar with the French West Indies, but American's smuggled it anyway).
I realize Arthur is a bit...petty? (Hornet394 says he's a bit PMS-ish). I think part of this is my inability to write him, but part of it is also meant to be reflective of England during this time period. Arthur here is stressed, exhausted, and insecure, and it manifests in his obsession with appearances and his jealousy and possessiveness. Part of his journey will be learning to better handle that.
I wondered when My Chemical Romance would turn up. Now I just have to wait and see when Marianas Trench will join the song list.
Thank you Hornet394 for your editing work. The Cold War scene is much better thanks to you.
Translations for this chapter:
Cannae: Scottish English; Can not
Da?: Russian; Yes?
Oui: French; Yes.
Thank you all for reading and for being patient between uploads. Happy Canada Day!
~VV