[USxUK] Queen of Hearts [Fanworkathon]
Jun. 6th, 2011 08:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_wingedTitle: Queen of Hearts
Genre: Romance/Comfort
Pairing: USxUK
Rating/Warnings: U. None.
Summary: After a telephone call from Paris delivers some shocking news in mid 1997, Alfred proves himself an excellent source of comfort.
Prompt: I want to see either US or UK crying- historical events, AU, everything is allowed. And no, not the happy-tears kind of crying, the heart wrenching, sad, crushing kind of crying and the other comforting the crying nation.
It was both a blessing and a curse that he was nowhere near Europe when it happened. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been so much of a shock – her life had been plagued by scandal for years, even more so since the divorce, but when Arthur had been woken by his mobile phone quietly vibrating on the bedside table he had known before he had answered it that it would be bad news. Seeing Francis’ name on the caller ID only confirmed it. It was an uncomfortable twisting in his gut that came with the almost sixth-sense knowledge that something bad had happened. He picked up his phone and murmured a tired-sounding ‘one moment please’ while he worked his way out from under Alfred’s arm and slid out of bed, pulling on a bathrobe in the dark that smelled faintly of coffee and stepping out into the hallway.
“Yes, what is it?” he said then, rubbing a hand over his hair and moving downstairs. He was halfway down when he heard six words that made his heart sink.
“I think you should sit down.”
“Very well… I’m sitting.” He turned the kettle on, and then sat at the kitchen table. “Francis, what is it?”
“I tried to call you sooner, but your Prime Minster, ‘e did not know where you were and it ‘as taken me this long to realise that you might be with Amérique and using your other telephone.” Francis sounded tense, and growing worry was making Arthur impatient.
“For god’s sake man, would you just spit it out? Do you have any idea what time it is?” Granted, it wasn’t that late, but he had never coped with jetlag terribly well. He would realise later that he had missed the subtle signs in Francis’ voice, that the man had been trying to break it to him more gently, but right now he just wanted him to stop beating around the bush.
“Oui, oui, je m’excuse. Arthur, your Lady Diana, she ‘as been in an accident.”
“An… an accident?” Arthur was suddenly rather glad he was sitting down. Francis never used his name unless it was something serious, preferring to name him by his country (in French, which Arthur was sure was only done to irritate him), and he felt something cold and unpleasant begin to work its way through him. “What kind of accident? Is… is she alright?”
“I… I am sorry. There was nothing that could be done.”
He didn’t even hear the phone hit the kitchen floor, the battery springing out of the back and cutting off the call. Both hands pressed to his face he felt himself shaking, the kitchen wavering as his vision misted, and all he could think was oh god, oh god, she’s gone. He knew now that he’d felt it, a few minutes before they had been heading to bed to wake up early for some sightseeing in the morning. A twinge of not-quite-pain low down in his abdomen that he had brushed off as a touch of indigestion from eating Alfred’s awful food. The landline began to ring, likely Francis trying to speak to him again but he couldn’t move, and after a few rings it stopped, and he heard the quiet sound of Alfred speaking upstairs. Within moments, his voice was followed by the sound of footsteps and he heard the man coming down the stairs. Alfred walked in, concern clear on his face as he crossed the kitchen and gathered Arthur up against him before he could even say a word, holding onto him tightly.
“Alfred…” Arthur said, his voice small and shaking.
“I know.”
“The princess-”
“I know.”
“She’s…”
“I know, I know, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms tight around the other man as first one, then two heaving sobs worked their way from his chest. His body shook as he cried out his grief against Alfred’s shoulder, gripping hard to him and only half hearing the quietly whispered words of comfort murmured against his hair. They were like his family, and losing one of them hurt as much as losing a brother or sister might, but Diana had been something special. When it was said that she had captured the heart of the nation it was truer than many knew. Arthur adored her, as he had always had a kind of adoration for strong women, and she had always been fond of him, visiting now and then and putting so much thought into the gifts that she would buy him for Christmas. It wasn’t fair. This… this just wasn’t fair. Her poor boys… Arthur wondered if they knew yet. He hadn’t even asked Francis how long it had been, it could have been hours since it had happened, since she’d…
She was…
“Oh god, Alfred.” He felt a hand in his hair, cupping the back of his head, fingertips gently moving against his scalp.
“Ssh…” Alfred said softly, pressing his nose against the older man’s temple. “Don’t talk, you’ll just cry more. I hate it when you cry.”
Despite the tears still spilling down his cheeks Arthur let out a half-choked laugh, shuddering and trying to draw in a full breath so he could stop. “I must look a terrible sight,” he mumbled, just about managing to bite out the words before another gasping sob robbed him of breath. He felt the other man shift and was reluctant to let him go, but he allowed his chin to be lightly gripped and his head tipped up, Alfred’s face a little wobbly through the tears misting his eyes. The American smiled crookedly, a gentle expression that made the vice around Arthur’s chest ease slightly.
“It’s not that,” he said. “You just look real pretty when you cry is all. I don’t know what to say.”
“You’re such a sap, even at a time like this.” Arthur hit Alfred’s chest lightly with one loosely clenched fist, and he leaned forwards again to rest his forehead against the younger’s shoulder. His throat felt tight, uncomfortably hot, and his eyes stung, and he wasn’t sure if the heat on his cheeks was through embarrassment or crying, but he had a source of strength here in Alfred. The American’s arms came up around him again, the grip not tight this time but firm, large hands gently holding onto his shoulders.
“Alfred?” Arthur said eventually, when he trusted himself to speak without his voice cracking. It still hurt. It still… hurt but it was more shock than anything else now, and the tears had stopped.
“Yeah?”
“I love you, and I appreciate this… but why are you naked?”
Alfred smiled against Arthur’s hair and nuzzled against it, a soft chuckle escaping him. “I was worried about you, babe. That’s all. I didn’t want to waste time putting on pants; I know how fast you can drink when you want to.”
“Sod off.” Arthur sighed and turned his face against Alfred’s neck, a shiver running through him. “Alfred, I’m going to have to go.”
“Back to London?”
“No, Paris. She… she’s in Paris.”
“Oh…” He ran his hand up and down Arthur’s spine, settling his fingers into the curve at the base and circling slowly. “I’m coming too.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know that. It’s just, this is important to you, and I don’t want you getting upset without me there.” Squeezing Arthur’s shoulders he pulled back from him and looked down into his eyes, that little smile on his face again. “Besides… I liked her. She called me Mister Jones. So, I’m coming with you, okay?” There was no room for argument in his voice, and Arthur felt a small twist in the region of his heart that had nothing to do with the shock of finding out that one of the people he loved was dead. He’d be foolish not to take Alfred with him – the man would only follow him if he refused.
“… Alright.”
Genre: Romance/Comfort
Pairing: USxUK
Rating/Warnings: U. None.
Summary: After a telephone call from Paris delivers some shocking news in mid 1997, Alfred proves himself an excellent source of comfort.
Prompt: I want to see either US or UK crying- historical events, AU, everything is allowed. And no, not the happy-tears kind of crying, the heart wrenching, sad, crushing kind of crying and the other comforting the crying nation.
*****
It was both a blessing and a curse that he was nowhere near Europe when it happened. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been so much of a shock – her life had been plagued by scandal for years, even more so since the divorce, but when Arthur had been woken by his mobile phone quietly vibrating on the bedside table he had known before he had answered it that it would be bad news. Seeing Francis’ name on the caller ID only confirmed it. It was an uncomfortable twisting in his gut that came with the almost sixth-sense knowledge that something bad had happened. He picked up his phone and murmured a tired-sounding ‘one moment please’ while he worked his way out from under Alfred’s arm and slid out of bed, pulling on a bathrobe in the dark that smelled faintly of coffee and stepping out into the hallway.
“Yes, what is it?” he said then, rubbing a hand over his hair and moving downstairs. He was halfway down when he heard six words that made his heart sink.
“I think you should sit down.”
“Very well… I’m sitting.” He turned the kettle on, and then sat at the kitchen table. “Francis, what is it?”
“I tried to call you sooner, but your Prime Minster, ‘e did not know where you were and it ‘as taken me this long to realise that you might be with Amérique and using your other telephone.” Francis sounded tense, and growing worry was making Arthur impatient.
“For god’s sake man, would you just spit it out? Do you have any idea what time it is?” Granted, it wasn’t that late, but he had never coped with jetlag terribly well. He would realise later that he had missed the subtle signs in Francis’ voice, that the man had been trying to break it to him more gently, but right now he just wanted him to stop beating around the bush.
“Oui, oui, je m’excuse. Arthur, your Lady Diana, she ‘as been in an accident.”
“An… an accident?” Arthur was suddenly rather glad he was sitting down. Francis never used his name unless it was something serious, preferring to name him by his country (in French, which Arthur was sure was only done to irritate him), and he felt something cold and unpleasant begin to work its way through him. “What kind of accident? Is… is she alright?”
“I… I am sorry. There was nothing that could be done.”
He didn’t even hear the phone hit the kitchen floor, the battery springing out of the back and cutting off the call. Both hands pressed to his face he felt himself shaking, the kitchen wavering as his vision misted, and all he could think was oh god, oh god, she’s gone. He knew now that he’d felt it, a few minutes before they had been heading to bed to wake up early for some sightseeing in the morning. A twinge of not-quite-pain low down in his abdomen that he had brushed off as a touch of indigestion from eating Alfred’s awful food. The landline began to ring, likely Francis trying to speak to him again but he couldn’t move, and after a few rings it stopped, and he heard the quiet sound of Alfred speaking upstairs. Within moments, his voice was followed by the sound of footsteps and he heard the man coming down the stairs. Alfred walked in, concern clear on his face as he crossed the kitchen and gathered Arthur up against him before he could even say a word, holding onto him tightly.
“Alfred…” Arthur said, his voice small and shaking.
“I know.”
“The princess-”
“I know.”
“She’s…”
“I know, I know, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms tight around the other man as first one, then two heaving sobs worked their way from his chest. His body shook as he cried out his grief against Alfred’s shoulder, gripping hard to him and only half hearing the quietly whispered words of comfort murmured against his hair. They were like his family, and losing one of them hurt as much as losing a brother or sister might, but Diana had been something special. When it was said that she had captured the heart of the nation it was truer than many knew. Arthur adored her, as he had always had a kind of adoration for strong women, and she had always been fond of him, visiting now and then and putting so much thought into the gifts that she would buy him for Christmas. It wasn’t fair. This… this just wasn’t fair. Her poor boys… Arthur wondered if they knew yet. He hadn’t even asked Francis how long it had been, it could have been hours since it had happened, since she’d…
She was…
“Oh god, Alfred.” He felt a hand in his hair, cupping the back of his head, fingertips gently moving against his scalp.
“Ssh…” Alfred said softly, pressing his nose against the older man’s temple. “Don’t talk, you’ll just cry more. I hate it when you cry.”
Despite the tears still spilling down his cheeks Arthur let out a half-choked laugh, shuddering and trying to draw in a full breath so he could stop. “I must look a terrible sight,” he mumbled, just about managing to bite out the words before another gasping sob robbed him of breath. He felt the other man shift and was reluctant to let him go, but he allowed his chin to be lightly gripped and his head tipped up, Alfred’s face a little wobbly through the tears misting his eyes. The American smiled crookedly, a gentle expression that made the vice around Arthur’s chest ease slightly.
“It’s not that,” he said. “You just look real pretty when you cry is all. I don’t know what to say.”
“You’re such a sap, even at a time like this.” Arthur hit Alfred’s chest lightly with one loosely clenched fist, and he leaned forwards again to rest his forehead against the younger’s shoulder. His throat felt tight, uncomfortably hot, and his eyes stung, and he wasn’t sure if the heat on his cheeks was through embarrassment or crying, but he had a source of strength here in Alfred. The American’s arms came up around him again, the grip not tight this time but firm, large hands gently holding onto his shoulders.
“Alfred?” Arthur said eventually, when he trusted himself to speak without his voice cracking. It still hurt. It still… hurt but it was more shock than anything else now, and the tears had stopped.
“Yeah?”
“I love you, and I appreciate this… but why are you naked?”
Alfred smiled against Arthur’s hair and nuzzled against it, a soft chuckle escaping him. “I was worried about you, babe. That’s all. I didn’t want to waste time putting on pants; I know how fast you can drink when you want to.”
“Sod off.” Arthur sighed and turned his face against Alfred’s neck, a shiver running through him. “Alfred, I’m going to have to go.”
“Back to London?”
“No, Paris. She… she’s in Paris.”
“Oh…” He ran his hand up and down Arthur’s spine, settling his fingers into the curve at the base and circling slowly. “I’m coming too.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know that. It’s just, this is important to you, and I don’t want you getting upset without me there.” Squeezing Arthur’s shoulders he pulled back from him and looked down into his eyes, that little smile on his face again. “Besides… I liked her. She called me Mister Jones. So, I’m coming with you, okay?” There was no room for argument in his voice, and Arthur felt a small twist in the region of his heart that had nothing to do with the shock of finding out that one of the people he loved was dead. He’d be foolish not to take Alfred with him – the man would only follow him if he refused.
“… Alright.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-06 10:36 pm (UTC)The interaction (?) with Arthur and the royals was really nice, and your descriptions of the physical act of crying was well done, in that you varied the language enough that it was still fresh!
Also Mister Jones was so cute!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-06 11:11 pm (UTC)Glad you liked >u<;
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-07 12:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-07 12:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-07 07:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-07 02:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-07 08:32 am (UTC)*grins at the 'Mister Jones' part*
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-07 02:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-07 12:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-07 02:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-07 04:53 pm (UTC)What a day for Arthur, the poor dear. But Alfred stepped up to the plate ♥ Sooo sweet despite the heartbreak.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-07 05:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-08 02:30 am (UTC)The title, the little things ("She called me Mister Jones"), the crying.... it was all grandly planned and executed perfectly. ;O;
UGH THOSE POOR BOYS.
1997.... Sheesh, it doesn't feel *that* long ago. o3o Guess that means I'm getting older. Or my memory just sucks. Most likely both. :U
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-08 03:00 am (UTC)Yeeah.. fourteen years ago. Long time o-o
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-12 07:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-12 07:21 am (UTC)Thanks for reading~ <3