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blood_wingedTitle: Happy... You Know.
Genre: General/Romance
Word Count: 1841
Rating/Warnings: U, none. (fluff?)
Summary: Alfred is disappointed when Arthur doesn't appear at his party (as usual), but gets a pleasant surprise after all his other guests have gone home.
Alfred tossed the RSVP he held into a small box in front of him, watching it land on top of several similar others. All of them had the ‘Not Attending’ response circled in varying colours of ink, the most recent one so viciously penned that it had almost torn clean through the paper. If he had a dollar for every time he’d asked Arthur to come to one of his birthday parties and the man had refused he’d… well, he wouldn’t be particularly rich but he’d be able to buy a new Xbox or something.
This year… he’d thought that this year would be different. After yet another refusal from the man the previous year to come to his birthday he’d marched (or rather, driven, then flew, then driven some more) over there and demanded to know why. It had taken a good deal of yelling and Arthur becoming extremely wound up before he’d finally burst out with something that had made Alfred’s heart do a double flip in his chest. Arthur loved him. He loved him and it hurt him so badly to be reminded of losing him every year that he couldn’t bring himself to celebrate it even if he knew that it would make the American nation happy. They’d talked about it, for hours, and Arthur had cried but it hadn’t been that gut-wrenching sobbing that Alfred had seen once before, more a kind of relief that he’d finally been able to talk about it.
It had surprised the both of them when Alfred had told him that he loved him too. Arthur had laughed like he couldn’t, or didn’t believe it and then Alfred had kissed him, clumsily and a little too eagerly and he’d stopped laughing. He’d stared at the American and Alfred remembered even now how hard his heart had been pounding. When Arthur had asked him if it was what he really wanted he hadn’t given him a moment longer to doubt it.
With the air finally clear and with the two of them in what he would tentatively call a relationship (though never in front of Arthur, since it made him embarrassed, which of course meant always in front of Arthur, because he looked funny – and pretty – when he turned red), he had thought that maybe this year would be different, that maybe he’d come, but it was as if nothing had changed at all. Francis, upon realising that the birthday boy seemed a little upset by the English nation’s absence, had tried to cheer him up by telling him that Arthur was and always had been a creature of habit, and that he should just enjoy the party. Though, it hadn’t been that easy.
He glanced at his watch. The party was long since over, the climax a huge fireworks display out of Alfred’s back garden, red, blue and silver sparks exploding in the air. Kiku had insisted upon making the cake after seeing the neon-coloured monster at the last party and it had been coloured to look like the stars and stripes, with a tiny statue of liberty made out of hard sugar stood on one corner. It had to have been one of the best cakes he’d ever tasted. Yet, in all the people and gifts and the festive atmosphere the one thing he’d wanted was missing. The one person he’d wanted to be there wasn’t and as much as he’d tried to make it look as if he didn’t care, he wasn’t sure how many people had really been fooled.
Eventually, everyone had left to go home or to hotels, all except his brother, who had immediately retired to the spare bedroom and was probably sleeping like the dead with how much he’d managed to drink. Matthew had always had a strong constitution but that many vodka shots followed by an entire six pack of beer would be taxing on anyone.
The doorbell rang, and Alfred sighed, setting the lid on the box in front of him and getting up. He took his time getting there, glancing around at the scattered empty and half full plastic cups and paper plates, the wrapping paper settled like a nest around the pile of presents on the coffee table. It had been a great party, as far as parties went. Alfred’s birthday parties, he thought, were always awesome but there was one thing that could have made this one so much better than all the ones before it. He was almost annoyed, agitating himself the more that he thought about it. Was it really too much to ask for Arthur to come to his party after how long they’d spent talking it out, the both of them coming to terms with the other’s side of the argument… after how they’d forgiven each other. Alfred had never seen Arthur look as open and honest as he had in those moments.
He opened the door, a question forming on his lips but not leaving them. Green eyes met blue, and a faint smile touched the other’s lips.
“Hel-” he began, but Alfred didn’t let him get any further. He was holding the man so suddenly and so tightly that it was a wonder he could still draw breath at all, his nose pushed hard enough against the English nation’s neck that he could feel his pulse beating at his throat. Arthur’s arms were limp at his sides, one hand loosely holding a gift bag, and it was several minutes before Alfred let him go but even then he barely stepped away.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said, gripping the smaller man’s shoulders and drawing him inside. Arthur looked away, a small frown on his face and what was undeniably a faint pink tinge working onto his cheeks.
“I wasn’t,” he replied, leaning on the door once it was closed and holding the bag in front of him. Alfred could smell something… something familiar. “But… it seemed so ridiculous to avoid it now. It seems that I missed it anyway.”
“No!” Alfred’s protest was instant, enough to make Arthur look up with that frown still in place. “No, I mean, you’re here, so… that’s fine. I’m just glad you came at all.” He smiled and let his hands drop, pushing them into his pockets. “What’s in the bag?”
“Ah…” He was sure that it wasn’t his imagination that the older nation’s blush had darkened. The bag was held up and that familiar smell grew stronger. “I left it a little late to buy you a present, and I would have had no bloody clue what to buy for you as it is, so… I got something I knew you’d enjoy.”
His curiosity piqued, Alfred took the bag and opened it, that smell hitting him in the face. Inside, an immediately recognisable brown paper and coloured lettering, and a wide grin spread over his face. “Arts… you brought me McDonalds?”
“I know, it isn’t much, but-”
“Best gift ever.” Alfred was entirely sincere, that grin still plastered across his features as he took Arthur’s hand and pulled him to the sofa, sitting down to tuck into the food. He cooed over it like a mother would to a child, making a sound of delight upon discovering that Arthur had brought every kind of sauce that they had along with him. Arthur seemed to slowly relax, that frown leaving his face and the tension in his shoulders easing, and by the time Alfred was wiping his mouth and brushing the crumbs from his lap the atmosphere in the room had gone from one of awkward uncertainty to a kind of comfort. “There’s still some fireworks left,” Alfred said then, scrunching up the brown bag in his hands and tossing it onto the table amidst the piles of wrapping paper. He didn’t have to say anything else.
They moved outside, and Alfred set up the remaining fireworks in a line, lighting them and then retreating to Arthur’s side. Somehow, the spinning, squeaking little things that he’d thought too small for the main display were more stunning than anything else he’d seen that night.
“What made you change your mind?” he asked quietly, tentatively wrapping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders as he moved closer and leaned a little against his side. When he met with no protest he tightened his grip, and heard Arthur make a quiet ‘hmn’ sound.
“It occurred to me that it was rather silly to continue to avoid this day when you already knew about why I was doing it,” Arthur said. “Though I’ll admit… I arrived this late purposefully.”
“Heh… I know.” He glanced down just in time to see Arthur’s face illuminated by a burst of light. The other blonde looked tired, grey-purple smudges under his eyes. Alfred kissed the side of his head and nosed into his hair. Arthur really was so silly at times. “You wouldn’t hear the last of it from France if he knew you were here.”
“Let’s not talk about Francis,” was the muttered response to that little piece of truth. “He’s the last person I want to think about right now.”
The last of the fireworks spiralled up into the sky and rained a shower of purple sparks down, the puff of smoke left behind drifting away on the wind. Arthur watched it, but Alfred’s eyes were fixed on the man he’d shared so much with over the past year. He touched Arthur’s hair, catching his attention, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I only want you to think of me,” he said, stroking the man’s hair back and tracing his fingers around the shell of his ear.
“You make it pretty sodding difficult to think of anything else,” Arthur half grumbled, averting his eyes and forcing Alfred to have to move his head to catch the other’s gaze again. Arthur made it difficult to be with him sometimes, but it was okay, because Alfred loved him and that meant loving all of him, even the parts that were always trying to push him away. He knew he’d break through those defences one day, it was just a matter of time.
“I’m really happy you’re here,” he said, planting another quick, almost hesitant kiss on his lips. “Maybe next time you can be on time.” His tone was gently teasing, and Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Don’t count on it.”
Somehow, Alfred didn’t mind. Even if Arthur never came to his parties and just turned up afterwards, that was alright. That something that had been missing no longer felt as if it was absent, and as Arthur relaxed slowly against his side and the last of the smoke cleared to let the faint light of the stars shine through, the young American felt a comfortable warmth curling in the centre of his chest, like this was how things were supposed to be.
“Alfred?”
“Yeah?”
“Happy… you know.”
Alfred glanced down at the top of Arthur’s head, and smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Thanks, Arts.”
Genre: General/Romance
Word Count: 1841
Rating/Warnings: U, none. (fluff?)
Summary: Alfred is disappointed when Arthur doesn't appear at his party (as usual), but gets a pleasant surprise after all his other guests have gone home.
*****
Alfred tossed the RSVP he held into a small box in front of him, watching it land on top of several similar others. All of them had the ‘Not Attending’ response circled in varying colours of ink, the most recent one so viciously penned that it had almost torn clean through the paper. If he had a dollar for every time he’d asked Arthur to come to one of his birthday parties and the man had refused he’d… well, he wouldn’t be particularly rich but he’d be able to buy a new Xbox or something.
This year… he’d thought that this year would be different. After yet another refusal from the man the previous year to come to his birthday he’d marched (or rather, driven, then flew, then driven some more) over there and demanded to know why. It had taken a good deal of yelling and Arthur becoming extremely wound up before he’d finally burst out with something that had made Alfred’s heart do a double flip in his chest. Arthur loved him. He loved him and it hurt him so badly to be reminded of losing him every year that he couldn’t bring himself to celebrate it even if he knew that it would make the American nation happy. They’d talked about it, for hours, and Arthur had cried but it hadn’t been that gut-wrenching sobbing that Alfred had seen once before, more a kind of relief that he’d finally been able to talk about it.
It had surprised the both of them when Alfred had told him that he loved him too. Arthur had laughed like he couldn’t, or didn’t believe it and then Alfred had kissed him, clumsily and a little too eagerly and he’d stopped laughing. He’d stared at the American and Alfred remembered even now how hard his heart had been pounding. When Arthur had asked him if it was what he really wanted he hadn’t given him a moment longer to doubt it.
With the air finally clear and with the two of them in what he would tentatively call a relationship (though never in front of Arthur, since it made him embarrassed, which of course meant always in front of Arthur, because he looked funny – and pretty – when he turned red), he had thought that maybe this year would be different, that maybe he’d come, but it was as if nothing had changed at all. Francis, upon realising that the birthday boy seemed a little upset by the English nation’s absence, had tried to cheer him up by telling him that Arthur was and always had been a creature of habit, and that he should just enjoy the party. Though, it hadn’t been that easy.
He glanced at his watch. The party was long since over, the climax a huge fireworks display out of Alfred’s back garden, red, blue and silver sparks exploding in the air. Kiku had insisted upon making the cake after seeing the neon-coloured monster at the last party and it had been coloured to look like the stars and stripes, with a tiny statue of liberty made out of hard sugar stood on one corner. It had to have been one of the best cakes he’d ever tasted. Yet, in all the people and gifts and the festive atmosphere the one thing he’d wanted was missing. The one person he’d wanted to be there wasn’t and as much as he’d tried to make it look as if he didn’t care, he wasn’t sure how many people had really been fooled.
Eventually, everyone had left to go home or to hotels, all except his brother, who had immediately retired to the spare bedroom and was probably sleeping like the dead with how much he’d managed to drink. Matthew had always had a strong constitution but that many vodka shots followed by an entire six pack of beer would be taxing on anyone.
The doorbell rang, and Alfred sighed, setting the lid on the box in front of him and getting up. He took his time getting there, glancing around at the scattered empty and half full plastic cups and paper plates, the wrapping paper settled like a nest around the pile of presents on the coffee table. It had been a great party, as far as parties went. Alfred’s birthday parties, he thought, were always awesome but there was one thing that could have made this one so much better than all the ones before it. He was almost annoyed, agitating himself the more that he thought about it. Was it really too much to ask for Arthur to come to his party after how long they’d spent talking it out, the both of them coming to terms with the other’s side of the argument… after how they’d forgiven each other. Alfred had never seen Arthur look as open and honest as he had in those moments.
He opened the door, a question forming on his lips but not leaving them. Green eyes met blue, and a faint smile touched the other’s lips.
“Hel-” he began, but Alfred didn’t let him get any further. He was holding the man so suddenly and so tightly that it was a wonder he could still draw breath at all, his nose pushed hard enough against the English nation’s neck that he could feel his pulse beating at his throat. Arthur’s arms were limp at his sides, one hand loosely holding a gift bag, and it was several minutes before Alfred let him go but even then he barely stepped away.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said, gripping the smaller man’s shoulders and drawing him inside. Arthur looked away, a small frown on his face and what was undeniably a faint pink tinge working onto his cheeks.
“I wasn’t,” he replied, leaning on the door once it was closed and holding the bag in front of him. Alfred could smell something… something familiar. “But… it seemed so ridiculous to avoid it now. It seems that I missed it anyway.”
“No!” Alfred’s protest was instant, enough to make Arthur look up with that frown still in place. “No, I mean, you’re here, so… that’s fine. I’m just glad you came at all.” He smiled and let his hands drop, pushing them into his pockets. “What’s in the bag?”
“Ah…” He was sure that it wasn’t his imagination that the older nation’s blush had darkened. The bag was held up and that familiar smell grew stronger. “I left it a little late to buy you a present, and I would have had no bloody clue what to buy for you as it is, so… I got something I knew you’d enjoy.”
His curiosity piqued, Alfred took the bag and opened it, that smell hitting him in the face. Inside, an immediately recognisable brown paper and coloured lettering, and a wide grin spread over his face. “Arts… you brought me McDonalds?”
“I know, it isn’t much, but-”
“Best gift ever.” Alfred was entirely sincere, that grin still plastered across his features as he took Arthur’s hand and pulled him to the sofa, sitting down to tuck into the food. He cooed over it like a mother would to a child, making a sound of delight upon discovering that Arthur had brought every kind of sauce that they had along with him. Arthur seemed to slowly relax, that frown leaving his face and the tension in his shoulders easing, and by the time Alfred was wiping his mouth and brushing the crumbs from his lap the atmosphere in the room had gone from one of awkward uncertainty to a kind of comfort. “There’s still some fireworks left,” Alfred said then, scrunching up the brown bag in his hands and tossing it onto the table amidst the piles of wrapping paper. He didn’t have to say anything else.
They moved outside, and Alfred set up the remaining fireworks in a line, lighting them and then retreating to Arthur’s side. Somehow, the spinning, squeaking little things that he’d thought too small for the main display were more stunning than anything else he’d seen that night.
“What made you change your mind?” he asked quietly, tentatively wrapping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders as he moved closer and leaned a little against his side. When he met with no protest he tightened his grip, and heard Arthur make a quiet ‘hmn’ sound.
“It occurred to me that it was rather silly to continue to avoid this day when you already knew about why I was doing it,” Arthur said. “Though I’ll admit… I arrived this late purposefully.”
“Heh… I know.” He glanced down just in time to see Arthur’s face illuminated by a burst of light. The other blonde looked tired, grey-purple smudges under his eyes. Alfred kissed the side of his head and nosed into his hair. Arthur really was so silly at times. “You wouldn’t hear the last of it from France if he knew you were here.”
“Let’s not talk about Francis,” was the muttered response to that little piece of truth. “He’s the last person I want to think about right now.”
The last of the fireworks spiralled up into the sky and rained a shower of purple sparks down, the puff of smoke left behind drifting away on the wind. Arthur watched it, but Alfred’s eyes were fixed on the man he’d shared so much with over the past year. He touched Arthur’s hair, catching his attention, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I only want you to think of me,” he said, stroking the man’s hair back and tracing his fingers around the shell of his ear.
“You make it pretty sodding difficult to think of anything else,” Arthur half grumbled, averting his eyes and forcing Alfred to have to move his head to catch the other’s gaze again. Arthur made it difficult to be with him sometimes, but it was okay, because Alfred loved him and that meant loving all of him, even the parts that were always trying to push him away. He knew he’d break through those defences one day, it was just a matter of time.
“I’m really happy you’re here,” he said, planting another quick, almost hesitant kiss on his lips. “Maybe next time you can be on time.” His tone was gently teasing, and Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Don’t count on it.”
Somehow, Alfred didn’t mind. Even if Arthur never came to his parties and just turned up afterwards, that was alright. That something that had been missing no longer felt as if it was absent, and as Arthur relaxed slowly against his side and the last of the smoke cleared to let the faint light of the stars shine through, the young American felt a comfortable warmth curling in the centre of his chest, like this was how things were supposed to be.
“Alfred?”
“Yeah?”
“Happy… you know.”
Alfred glanced down at the top of Arthur’s head, and smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Thanks, Arts.”
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(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-05 06:18 am (UTC)Such a sweet birthday fic. Alfred would by happy! \m/
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-05 10:45 am (UTC)