[USxUK] My Fair Lady [2/5]
May. 14th, 2011 07:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_wingedTitle: My Fair Lady
Genre: Romance
Characters/Pairing(s): USxUK
Rating/Warnings: PG. Genderswap. Arthur cusses a lot.
Summary: Yet another of Arthur's magical mishaps lands him in more trouble than he can handle, with a strange new body to (temporarily) deal with and as if that wasn't enough, he has Alfred hanging around.
*****
Sleeping was difficult. Arthur, like anyone, had positions that he liked to lie in and this new shape made some of them uncomfortable. More than that, though, was the sudden problem he now faced of having Alfred in the house. Of all the things he could have ever paid attention to, one of them had to be that Arthur never allowed anyone into his basement. It wasn’t because it was a particularly big secret, but most had enough to poke fun at him over without knowing the amount of occult books, jars and pots that he kept below his house. It had been home to more sinister rituals in the past, several dark spots on the stone floor testament to that, but now it was mostly something to pass the time. He had to keep his skills sharp after all. Well, as sharp as they could be considering his track record. This wasn’t quite on the scale of when he’d managed to turn his brother Scotland’s hair pink in his sleep from a distance of five hundred miles but it was definitely going to cause him less trouble, and less bruises.
To his dismay, Alfred was already awake when he ventured downstairs, and the boy looked at him, immediately rising from his chair when he entered the kitchen and giving a cheery little wave.. Arthur held back the customary waspish urge to ask him what he was so happy about, casting a brief look to the basement door before sitting down at the table, feeling somewhat defeated. His back ached a little and he wouldn’t need more than one guess to realise why that was, wondering for a moment just how women managed to cope with that extra weight on their chests. He would definitely have a whole new appreciation for the fairer sex after this nightmare was over. Putting his head in his hands, he listened to Alfred moving around and let out a barely audible sigh. When the American had said he was going to stay until Arthur came back, he hadn’t for one moment imagined that he had been serious. Alfred had always had the attention span of an excited puppy and he had half expected to find him gone that morning without even a note left behind. Though, the ideal outcome would have been for it to have all been a dream. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see him like this.
“Why do you want to speak to Arthur so badly?” he asked, looking up as a cup was placed in front of him. Alfred grinned and tapped the side of his nose.
“That’s a secret, little lady,” the younger man replied, dropping heavily into the chair across from Arthur and looking at him with a kind of intensity that Arthur didn’t like in the least.
“What?” he said waspishly. Alfred shrugged, smiled again, and lifted his cup to his lips. Not tea as he had been drinking the night before. Arthur could smell the strong scent of coffee and he knew that the other must have brought it with him – Arthur didn’t keep coffee in the house, not even for Alfred. The American was humming, and it was driving a railroad spike right through the centre of the headache starting between Arthur’s temples. Sometimes, he wanted so badly to hate Alfred. Some times more than others but he had never been able to, not even… back then. It would have been so easy then to hate him and he wanted to hate him for bringing it up, even though he had been the one to finally speak his heart on the matter within the safety of Alfred having no idea who he was.
He took a sip of tea and looked outside. The weather was fair, even pleasant, the flowers in the garden beginning to bloom. He’d worked hard this year, planting and tending, paying special attention to his rose bushes and the small herb garden he’d been cultivating in his little greenhouse near the fence at the far end. Surely… surely gardening was something he could get away with when he was like this? Alfred wouldn’t find that strange… would he? Arthur risked a glance over at the American nation, who didn’t appear to be paying attention to him, flicking his way slowly through a newspaper. He could see by the way the other’s eyes were moving that he wasn’t reading, just looking at the pictures. It almost made him smile, but he covered it by taking another mouthful of tea and almost burned his mouth as he underestimated the heat of it.
When he decided that he’d sat in silence for as long as was polite he stood and left without giving Alfred a second look, though he felt eyes on his back until he entered the hallway and quickened his pace, all but running up the stairs with one arm clamped down over his chest. He was quite certain that he would never get used to that feeling, but he knew he had to do something about it. Arthur had lived without any form of female companionship for longer than his current houseguest had existed, but he did occasionally have guests, and very occasionally they were female. He sat down on the edge of his bed and frowned. The last woman to visit him had been Belgium… had she left anything behind, he wondered. It would have been terribly convenient if she had.
As luck would have it, convenience was on his side, perhaps as a small apology for the current situation that destiny seemed to have seen it fit to drop on him. He toyed with the thing for a while, once again feeling that rising sense of panic that he had when he had first realised what had happened. Eventually, he went as far as to slap himself, frowning.
“You are the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland,” he said quietly to himself, looking at the floor and feeling his cheek tingling. “You forged the largest empire the world has ever seen. You will not be beaten by this.” He tried again, fumbling with the clasp a little but finally managing to fasten it, sliding the straps up over his shoulders and shrugging. It almost felt better already, but looking down still made him blush, and he redressed as quickly as possible, needing to tighten his belt to hold his trousers up around a narrower waistline and pulling on a soft beige woollen vest over the top of his shirt to hide the faint straining of the buttons at the front. His hair was tied back again, neatly at the nape of his neck and when he walked back into the kitchen he saw Alfred do a double take.
“Wow, you looked just like Arthur for a second there!” the young blond exclaimed, folding up the newspaper he was reading. “I mean, you’re much prettier than Arthur- that is, you don’t look like a guy or anything.”
“Stop trying to flirt, you’re bad at it,” Arthur muttered, his cheeks burning as he moved hurriedly to the back door and pulled on a pair of wellington boots. He could hear Alfred spluttering behind him, denying the accusation and doing a rather poor job of it.
“What are you doing?” Alfred asked then, his own face a faint pink colour.
“Gardening.”
“Gardening? He has you doing his garden? What a slave driver.” The American nation gave a slight wince at his choice of phrasing then, and got up from his seat, but Arthur was already out of the door and halfway across the lawn. He could see Alfred out of the corner of his eye as he crouched down next to a patch of tulips. The heavy rain had damaged the flowers, knocking their petals out or in some cases completely snapping the stem. It was always a hazard with the weather in this country. If it wasn’t rain, it was wind, or late frost, or an early heat wave that dried out everything before it had a chance to bloom. A small fairy was watching him from inside one of the undamaged flowers, leaning on the edge of a petal as her wings beat at hummingbird speed to keep her aloft. She waved at him, baring sharp teeth in a grin when he looked at her. They really didn’t notice that anything had changed.
“Ah, that’s sad,” Alfred said, suddenly stood behind him with his hands in his pockets, looking down at the broken flowers. “My brother likes tulips, too.”
“Your brother?”
“Yeah, uh, Matthew. Canada. He’s north of me, except for the bit at the far west, that’s Alaska. That’s mine.” He folded his arms, almost seeming proud of the fact. “He always has tulips. Takes real good care of them, too. What are you gonna do with them?”
Arthur looked at the fairy again, who blew a raspberry at him and retreated back inside the flower. “I’ll save the ones I can and pull the rest up,” he muttered. Alfred crouched beside him, poking at one of the broken petals, and Arthur did his best to ignore him as he dug his fingers into the soil and pulled up the tulips that he knew he couldn’t rescue. He was watched for a few minutes, not by the fairies but by a pair of curious sky-blue eyes, then Alfred dropped down into a sitting position on the damp grass and began to pull up the damaged plants, pausing when he wrenched one of them up. The stem was hopelessly broken, twisted back on itself, but the flower was completely unharmed.
“Hey, Ariah,” he said, though it took a tap on Arthur’s shoulder for him to realise that he was being addressed. The moment he turned, a flash of colour moved in the corner of his vision and he felt something tucked behind his ear and into his hair.
“What on Earth are you doing?” He reached up to remove whatever had just been stuck there, only to be stopped.
“It’s just a flower,” Alfred protested earnestly. “I didn’t wanna waste it.”
“Well…” Arthur lifted his hand again, slowly, brushing his fingers over the tulip nestled behind his ear. “Fine, then, but don’t do that again.”
“Okey!” the young man chirped with a grin, leaving Arthur with the distinct feeling that he’d just lost some kind of battle. He concentrated on the flowers instead. Some of them could be salvaged, and he sent Alfred running for some thin garden canes to prop up some of the broken ones that he thought might survive. He had to admit that the lad made a good errand-boy when he wasn’t trying to show off, though it seemed to Arthur that he was doing plenty of that. As unbearable as it might have been (he told himself while Alfred chattered and occasionally bumped against his shoulder), it could have easily been much worse. Everything seemed fine so far. Alfred had no idea who he really was and if Arthur had anything to say about it, he never would.
“So, uh,” Alfred said then, in the tell-tale tone of someone who was grasping for conversation. “Do you like music?”
Arthur frowned, almost shook his head, then let out a quiet sigh. “The kind of music I like will have been made long before you were born,” he replied. Alfred stopped mid-way through pulling up one of the tulips, a tiny crease between his eyebrows as he regarded his companion, and then he laughed and smiled, patting Arthur on the back with enough force to make his entire body turn rigid in an attempt to keep from falling flat on his face in the dirt.
“You know, Arthur says the same thing. I bet you’ve not been dancing in ages either, right? There’s some great places for dancing in London.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Arthur muttered, and Alfred gaped at him.
“You don’t know? Have you been around London at all?” The English nation gave a short, sharp shake of his head, trying to stop the conversation or at least steer it somewhere else, but Alfred simply stared at him some more then grabbed his arm. “Hey, you haven’t? That’s so weird! Arthur’s always dragging me all over the place every time I come here. Like he thinks I didn’t listen the first time. I should show you around! Then you can impress him when he gets back. We should do it today.”
“Today?” He couldn’t have looked any more startled if he tried. “But I-…”
“When you house-sit for Arthur you don’t just look after his house, you know!” Alfred exclaimed enthusiastically, taking Arthur by the shoulders. “You’re like… looking after the whole country while he’s gone! You’re looking after London, Arthur’s heart. You should at least know what it looks like!”
Arthur was, and he would be the first to admit it to himself, entirely stunned. He swallowed and was suddenly very aware of how close Alfred was leaning to him, how blue his eyes were, then a faint pink flush rose on Alfred’s cheeks and he grinned awkwardly, sitting back, and Arthur let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. Looking down, he picked some dirt out from under his fingernails and cleared his throat, giving a small nod and smiling. “Alright, you can… show me around London,” he said. A small part of him looked forward to that, though the rest of him was inwardly cringing at the things that Alfred might make up about his beloved city in order to impress. He did, after all, see Arthur as a girl and Arthur knew quite well how terrible Alfred was at dealing with women. God knew he tried to flirt, often with somewhat disastrous consequences.
“Cool.” Alfred was grinning still, and Arthur could swear he was bumping against him more than he had been before. It provoked a fluttering feeling low in his gut that he had been feeling when the younger man was around for some years now, ever since he had looked at him one day and realised that he had grown into a fine young man. After that, he had found his attention lingering on Alfred more than he would have liked, and at first he had struggled with it, not wanting to feel that way about a boy he’d seen grow from an infant. Something had felt wrong about it, but he’d never really been able to put his finger on just what that was. Eventually, he’d just been able to ignore it, and Alfred had always kept his distance, likely scared off by Arthur’s caustic temper and the way he was always insulting him. It had made things easier, but it wasn’t so easy now. If he acted how he always did Alfred would become suspicious. Certainly, the boy was a fool, but he wasn’t stupid.
“We should go right now,” the young American nation said then, that serious expression back on his face. Arthur moved to protest, immediately stopped by one lightly calloused finger pressed against his lips. “Even if you don’t know what London is like you must know what the weather is like here. It’s sunny now but tomorrow it might be raining! We should go right now. Get a coat or something, yeah?”
He nodded, and Alfred smiled brightly, standing up and brushing his hands off on the knees of his trousers, before pausing and grinning a little bashfully. “And I’ll uh… I’ll go and change my jeans.”
“Well done, Alfred,” Arthur said dryly, getting to his feet and flexing his fingers, having to think so he didn’t do the exact same thing. His choice of clothing would be rather limited until he could alter some more of it or find some kind of spell to make them fit. No doubt he had one but it would require some thinking, something he hadn’t really had the time to do just yet. Alfred performed a short, mocking bow and turned on his heel to jog back up to the house. Folding his arms, Arthur frowned, and out of the corner of his eye saw the fairy that had been watching him earlier fly up from the flower she had been hiding in, alighting on his shoulder and giving him a grin. He turned his head to look at her, and she put a hand to her mouth to cover a tinkling little giggle.
“Oh, shut up.” Batting her away, he ignored the outraged noises behind him as he followed Alfred inside. Fairies. What the hell did they know, anyway.
----
<| Chapter One | Chapter Three |>
Genre: Romance
Characters/Pairing(s): USxUK
Rating/Warnings: PG. Genderswap. Arthur cusses a lot.
Summary: Yet another of Arthur's magical mishaps lands him in more trouble than he can handle, with a strange new body to (temporarily) deal with and as if that wasn't enough, he has Alfred hanging around.
*****
Sleeping was difficult. Arthur, like anyone, had positions that he liked to lie in and this new shape made some of them uncomfortable. More than that, though, was the sudden problem he now faced of having Alfred in the house. Of all the things he could have ever paid attention to, one of them had to be that Arthur never allowed anyone into his basement. It wasn’t because it was a particularly big secret, but most had enough to poke fun at him over without knowing the amount of occult books, jars and pots that he kept below his house. It had been home to more sinister rituals in the past, several dark spots on the stone floor testament to that, but now it was mostly something to pass the time. He had to keep his skills sharp after all. Well, as sharp as they could be considering his track record. This wasn’t quite on the scale of when he’d managed to turn his brother Scotland’s hair pink in his sleep from a distance of five hundred miles but it was definitely going to cause him less trouble, and less bruises.
To his dismay, Alfred was already awake when he ventured downstairs, and the boy looked at him, immediately rising from his chair when he entered the kitchen and giving a cheery little wave.. Arthur held back the customary waspish urge to ask him what he was so happy about, casting a brief look to the basement door before sitting down at the table, feeling somewhat defeated. His back ached a little and he wouldn’t need more than one guess to realise why that was, wondering for a moment just how women managed to cope with that extra weight on their chests. He would definitely have a whole new appreciation for the fairer sex after this nightmare was over. Putting his head in his hands, he listened to Alfred moving around and let out a barely audible sigh. When the American had said he was going to stay until Arthur came back, he hadn’t for one moment imagined that he had been serious. Alfred had always had the attention span of an excited puppy and he had half expected to find him gone that morning without even a note left behind. Though, the ideal outcome would have been for it to have all been a dream. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see him like this.
“Why do you want to speak to Arthur so badly?” he asked, looking up as a cup was placed in front of him. Alfred grinned and tapped the side of his nose.
“That’s a secret, little lady,” the younger man replied, dropping heavily into the chair across from Arthur and looking at him with a kind of intensity that Arthur didn’t like in the least.
“What?” he said waspishly. Alfred shrugged, smiled again, and lifted his cup to his lips. Not tea as he had been drinking the night before. Arthur could smell the strong scent of coffee and he knew that the other must have brought it with him – Arthur didn’t keep coffee in the house, not even for Alfred. The American was humming, and it was driving a railroad spike right through the centre of the headache starting between Arthur’s temples. Sometimes, he wanted so badly to hate Alfred. Some times more than others but he had never been able to, not even… back then. It would have been so easy then to hate him and he wanted to hate him for bringing it up, even though he had been the one to finally speak his heart on the matter within the safety of Alfred having no idea who he was.
He took a sip of tea and looked outside. The weather was fair, even pleasant, the flowers in the garden beginning to bloom. He’d worked hard this year, planting and tending, paying special attention to his rose bushes and the small herb garden he’d been cultivating in his little greenhouse near the fence at the far end. Surely… surely gardening was something he could get away with when he was like this? Alfred wouldn’t find that strange… would he? Arthur risked a glance over at the American nation, who didn’t appear to be paying attention to him, flicking his way slowly through a newspaper. He could see by the way the other’s eyes were moving that he wasn’t reading, just looking at the pictures. It almost made him smile, but he covered it by taking another mouthful of tea and almost burned his mouth as he underestimated the heat of it.
When he decided that he’d sat in silence for as long as was polite he stood and left without giving Alfred a second look, though he felt eyes on his back until he entered the hallway and quickened his pace, all but running up the stairs with one arm clamped down over his chest. He was quite certain that he would never get used to that feeling, but he knew he had to do something about it. Arthur had lived without any form of female companionship for longer than his current houseguest had existed, but he did occasionally have guests, and very occasionally they were female. He sat down on the edge of his bed and frowned. The last woman to visit him had been Belgium… had she left anything behind, he wondered. It would have been terribly convenient if she had.
As luck would have it, convenience was on his side, perhaps as a small apology for the current situation that destiny seemed to have seen it fit to drop on him. He toyed with the thing for a while, once again feeling that rising sense of panic that he had when he had first realised what had happened. Eventually, he went as far as to slap himself, frowning.
“You are the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland,” he said quietly to himself, looking at the floor and feeling his cheek tingling. “You forged the largest empire the world has ever seen. You will not be beaten by this.” He tried again, fumbling with the clasp a little but finally managing to fasten it, sliding the straps up over his shoulders and shrugging. It almost felt better already, but looking down still made him blush, and he redressed as quickly as possible, needing to tighten his belt to hold his trousers up around a narrower waistline and pulling on a soft beige woollen vest over the top of his shirt to hide the faint straining of the buttons at the front. His hair was tied back again, neatly at the nape of his neck and when he walked back into the kitchen he saw Alfred do a double take.
“Wow, you looked just like Arthur for a second there!” the young blond exclaimed, folding up the newspaper he was reading. “I mean, you’re much prettier than Arthur- that is, you don’t look like a guy or anything.”
“Stop trying to flirt, you’re bad at it,” Arthur muttered, his cheeks burning as he moved hurriedly to the back door and pulled on a pair of wellington boots. He could hear Alfred spluttering behind him, denying the accusation and doing a rather poor job of it.
“What are you doing?” Alfred asked then, his own face a faint pink colour.
“Gardening.”
“Gardening? He has you doing his garden? What a slave driver.” The American nation gave a slight wince at his choice of phrasing then, and got up from his seat, but Arthur was already out of the door and halfway across the lawn. He could see Alfred out of the corner of his eye as he crouched down next to a patch of tulips. The heavy rain had damaged the flowers, knocking their petals out or in some cases completely snapping the stem. It was always a hazard with the weather in this country. If it wasn’t rain, it was wind, or late frost, or an early heat wave that dried out everything before it had a chance to bloom. A small fairy was watching him from inside one of the undamaged flowers, leaning on the edge of a petal as her wings beat at hummingbird speed to keep her aloft. She waved at him, baring sharp teeth in a grin when he looked at her. They really didn’t notice that anything had changed.
“Ah, that’s sad,” Alfred said, suddenly stood behind him with his hands in his pockets, looking down at the broken flowers. “My brother likes tulips, too.”
“Your brother?”
“Yeah, uh, Matthew. Canada. He’s north of me, except for the bit at the far west, that’s Alaska. That’s mine.” He folded his arms, almost seeming proud of the fact. “He always has tulips. Takes real good care of them, too. What are you gonna do with them?”
Arthur looked at the fairy again, who blew a raspberry at him and retreated back inside the flower. “I’ll save the ones I can and pull the rest up,” he muttered. Alfred crouched beside him, poking at one of the broken petals, and Arthur did his best to ignore him as he dug his fingers into the soil and pulled up the tulips that he knew he couldn’t rescue. He was watched for a few minutes, not by the fairies but by a pair of curious sky-blue eyes, then Alfred dropped down into a sitting position on the damp grass and began to pull up the damaged plants, pausing when he wrenched one of them up. The stem was hopelessly broken, twisted back on itself, but the flower was completely unharmed.
“Hey, Ariah,” he said, though it took a tap on Arthur’s shoulder for him to realise that he was being addressed. The moment he turned, a flash of colour moved in the corner of his vision and he felt something tucked behind his ear and into his hair.
“What on Earth are you doing?” He reached up to remove whatever had just been stuck there, only to be stopped.
“It’s just a flower,” Alfred protested earnestly. “I didn’t wanna waste it.”
“Well…” Arthur lifted his hand again, slowly, brushing his fingers over the tulip nestled behind his ear. “Fine, then, but don’t do that again.”
“Okey!” the young man chirped with a grin, leaving Arthur with the distinct feeling that he’d just lost some kind of battle. He concentrated on the flowers instead. Some of them could be salvaged, and he sent Alfred running for some thin garden canes to prop up some of the broken ones that he thought might survive. He had to admit that the lad made a good errand-boy when he wasn’t trying to show off, though it seemed to Arthur that he was doing plenty of that. As unbearable as it might have been (he told himself while Alfred chattered and occasionally bumped against his shoulder), it could have easily been much worse. Everything seemed fine so far. Alfred had no idea who he really was and if Arthur had anything to say about it, he never would.
“So, uh,” Alfred said then, in the tell-tale tone of someone who was grasping for conversation. “Do you like music?”
Arthur frowned, almost shook his head, then let out a quiet sigh. “The kind of music I like will have been made long before you were born,” he replied. Alfred stopped mid-way through pulling up one of the tulips, a tiny crease between his eyebrows as he regarded his companion, and then he laughed and smiled, patting Arthur on the back with enough force to make his entire body turn rigid in an attempt to keep from falling flat on his face in the dirt.
“You know, Arthur says the same thing. I bet you’ve not been dancing in ages either, right? There’s some great places for dancing in London.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Arthur muttered, and Alfred gaped at him.
“You don’t know? Have you been around London at all?” The English nation gave a short, sharp shake of his head, trying to stop the conversation or at least steer it somewhere else, but Alfred simply stared at him some more then grabbed his arm. “Hey, you haven’t? That’s so weird! Arthur’s always dragging me all over the place every time I come here. Like he thinks I didn’t listen the first time. I should show you around! Then you can impress him when he gets back. We should do it today.”
“Today?” He couldn’t have looked any more startled if he tried. “But I-…”
“When you house-sit for Arthur you don’t just look after his house, you know!” Alfred exclaimed enthusiastically, taking Arthur by the shoulders. “You’re like… looking after the whole country while he’s gone! You’re looking after London, Arthur’s heart. You should at least know what it looks like!”
Arthur was, and he would be the first to admit it to himself, entirely stunned. He swallowed and was suddenly very aware of how close Alfred was leaning to him, how blue his eyes were, then a faint pink flush rose on Alfred’s cheeks and he grinned awkwardly, sitting back, and Arthur let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. Looking down, he picked some dirt out from under his fingernails and cleared his throat, giving a small nod and smiling. “Alright, you can… show me around London,” he said. A small part of him looked forward to that, though the rest of him was inwardly cringing at the things that Alfred might make up about his beloved city in order to impress. He did, after all, see Arthur as a girl and Arthur knew quite well how terrible Alfred was at dealing with women. God knew he tried to flirt, often with somewhat disastrous consequences.
“Cool.” Alfred was grinning still, and Arthur could swear he was bumping against him more than he had been before. It provoked a fluttering feeling low in his gut that he had been feeling when the younger man was around for some years now, ever since he had looked at him one day and realised that he had grown into a fine young man. After that, he had found his attention lingering on Alfred more than he would have liked, and at first he had struggled with it, not wanting to feel that way about a boy he’d seen grow from an infant. Something had felt wrong about it, but he’d never really been able to put his finger on just what that was. Eventually, he’d just been able to ignore it, and Alfred had always kept his distance, likely scared off by Arthur’s caustic temper and the way he was always insulting him. It had made things easier, but it wasn’t so easy now. If he acted how he always did Alfred would become suspicious. Certainly, the boy was a fool, but he wasn’t stupid.
“We should go right now,” the young American nation said then, that serious expression back on his face. Arthur moved to protest, immediately stopped by one lightly calloused finger pressed against his lips. “Even if you don’t know what London is like you must know what the weather is like here. It’s sunny now but tomorrow it might be raining! We should go right now. Get a coat or something, yeah?”
He nodded, and Alfred smiled brightly, standing up and brushing his hands off on the knees of his trousers, before pausing and grinning a little bashfully. “And I’ll uh… I’ll go and change my jeans.”
“Well done, Alfred,” Arthur said dryly, getting to his feet and flexing his fingers, having to think so he didn’t do the exact same thing. His choice of clothing would be rather limited until he could alter some more of it or find some kind of spell to make them fit. No doubt he had one but it would require some thinking, something he hadn’t really had the time to do just yet. Alfred performed a short, mocking bow and turned on his heel to jog back up to the house. Folding his arms, Arthur frowned, and out of the corner of his eye saw the fairy that had been watching him earlier fly up from the flower she had been hiding in, alighting on his shoulder and giving him a grin. He turned his head to look at her, and she put a hand to her mouth to cover a tinkling little giggle.
“Oh, shut up.” Batting her away, he ignored the outraged noises behind him as he followed Alfred inside. Fairies. What the hell did they know, anyway.
----
<| Chapter One | Chapter Three |>
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-14 07:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-15 05:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-14 08:51 pm (UTC)I can't wait for more!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-15 05:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-14 10:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-15 05:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-15 04:38 am (UTC)And d'awwwww... the flower on Arthur's ear! Alfred, you're just too cute for your own good. Like a ten year old kid flirting with an adult. So innocently blatant!
And Alfred's words, taking care of Arthur's heart, is just so precious. These two are real tsunderes. And yet, here Alfred is, showing how much he cares for Arthur to the person himself! It's just so cute. You write so well.
It's like Alfred knows too much of London. It's like, he listens to Arthur's rants and explanations, pretending not to, and reading lots of books about the city. He's so adorable. And it's like, Arthur's falling for him deeper. This USUK genderbent, somehow, makes me love fem!Arthur.
Thank you so much for writing this story.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-15 05:10 am (UTC)He watches waaay too many corny romance movies, what can I say xD
Eee I'm so glad you like it :)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-15 07:40 am (UTC)*starts laughing at Arthur's fight with the bra* Get some sport bras, they are lot easier to put on! :P
Ooh, a grand tour. This is going to be fun.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-15 05:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-16 03:17 am (UTC)But ya gotta give him credit for trying, I suppose.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-17 01:38 am (UTC)Alfred is so adorable with his version of flirting, and God, I want to know why he's hanging around! Can't wait for more!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-17 10:30 am (UTC)Thanks for the comment :D
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 05:37 am (UTC)I greatly look forward to Alfred's surprisingly detailed tour of London ;D
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-21 09:28 am (UTC)