[USxUK] White Flag [Chapter 1/?]
Apr. 6th, 2012 12:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_wingedTitle: White Flag [1/?]
Genre: Romance
Characters/Pairing: America, England, Prussia, France, Russia, Germany, Argentina. US/UK
Rating/Warnings: PG for later. Possibly R. I'm not sure yet.
Summary: Arthur finally plucks up the nerve to ask Alfred out on a date, only to find that the American nation has never looked at him 'that way'. However, the simple request sets off an uncomfortable train of thought in Alfred's mind as he begins to wonder exactly why that might be.
‘Til now, I always got by on my own, I never really cared until I met y—‘
Arthur made an irritated sound and smacked his hand against the ‘off’ button of the radio. He was sure that song was dogging him and it was only making it more difficult to concentrate on what he was going to do. What he wanted to do. So far he had attempted three times to get the words out but twice nothing had happened and the third time he had been interrupted and simply shot a snide insult instead. It had done very little to help his cause but he supposed that Alfred had to be used to that kind of thing by now.
He didn’t think that the younger man was on to him, but how could he be? Arthur was rather aware that he was no prize catch and he had spent so many years ridiculing the American nation that it was almost second nature for him to do so. Today, he was going to do it. He was going to tell the idiot how he felt once and for all, for better or worse. The consequences didn’t bear thinking about if it went badly – he knew he’d not feel right showing his face for a while – but he was refusing to allow himself to be beaten by such a foolish thing as a crush on a boy.
Gazing up at the high ceiling of his hotel room, Arthur let out a slow sigh and shook his head. He hated being in this country, but he loved it all the same. There was no other land quite like America, no other place made him feel so bloody insignificant and it drove him insane. Yet, he always felt so remarkably comfortable here. Perhaps that was odd considering his history with it but they were far from Virginia now, and such things didn’t bother him as much when there was nothing around to remind him.
Finally, he rolled out of bed and moved to the bathroom to wash his face and shave the slight crop of stubble that was dusting the lower half of his face. Putting on his tie took too long, and it was when he noticed that his hands were shaking that he had to open the minibar and grab a small bottle of whiskey that he downed in one mouthful. As the liquid burned its way down to his stomach and settled there as an uncomfortable heat, he leaned on the dresser and stared at himself. The past two decades had not been terribly kind to Arthur, and it showed when he stopped to look at his reflection. He was a little too thin, he knew that, and the pallor of his skin was just shy of unhealthy. What bothered him the most were the purplish shadows under his eyes, and had he been a vainer man (one did come to mind) he might have used makeup to cover them.
However, Arthur was not that vain of a man and he took one last look at himself before grabbing his jacket and heading out.
The conference room was already bustling when he arrived, and for a change the daggers being shot at him were not from the eyes of any of his brothers (who had declined to attend) but from the disgruntled-looking Argentinian in the corner of the room. Arthur did his best to ignore it, not wanting to open that can of worms right at this moment, and instead moved across to where he could see Gilbert leaning, obviously bored, against a window frame.
“Morning,” he said as he approached, managing a wan smile. The albino ex-nation glanced at him, red eyes flickering, then he grinned.
“Hallo, Arts.” There was a pause as he looked the man up and down. “Ya look like shit, if ya don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
Arthur grunted and shook his head, clasping his hands behind his back as he cast his gaze out over the view from the window. “If I did mind I’m quite sure you would have said it anyway. What the devil are you doing here?” He frowned over at the other man, watching as he shrugged, a slightly uncomfortable-looking rise and fall of his shoulders. Gilbert’s presence was entirely unnecessary at functions such as this and everyone there knew it, but he continued to tag along with his brother to each and every one.
“Gotta keep an eye on the kid, y’know?” he said eventually, jerking his head over to where Ludwig was engaged in a conversation with Francis. “God knows the kinda things he might agree to if I wasn’t here watchin’ his back.”
A soft chuckle worked its way up from Arthur’s chest and he smiled, clapping a hand down on Gilbert’s shoulder. “Jolly good to see you, in any case. You know, I’m going over to Copenhagen in a few weeks, perhaps you’d like to—?”
“Ja, yeah, sure, I’ll tag along with ya.” The Prussian nation was grinning widely now as he nodded. “Been forever since I saw him.”
“Great, great, I’ll book you a ticket and forward the details over to you by Monday, it…”
Gilbert’s expression had become slightly pained at the idea of Arthur spending money on him, but that wasn’t what had caused the man to trail off. A prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck, something no doubt shared by many people in the room and certainly by his companion who paled to a paper white, announcing the arrival of the softly smiling mountain of a man that was Ivan Braginski, accompanied by the one person Arthur was both wanting and dreading to see. Alfred F. Jones.
“I’ll speak to you later,” Arthur said then, giving a small nod, imperceptible to anyone but the person it was meant for, over to Francis who quickly excused himself from Ludwig’s presence and moved over to greet the Prussian with a mischievous smile and a kiss on his cheek. With that taken care of Arthur approached Alfred, wishing for a long moment that Argentina would stop glaring at him so he could concentrate a little better, and gently tapped one finger against the taller blonde’s arm.
“Oi,” he said, and Alfred glanced over his shoulder, a cocky grin immediately flashing over his features. “Can I talk to you?”
“You are talking to me,” Alfred replied, then he laughed and wrinkled his nose to push his glasses further up the bridge, slinging one arm around Arthur’s shoulders and steering him away from the small group he had been in conversation with. “I’m just messing with you, old man. What’s up?”
“Not here. Come with me.”
“Uh… sure.”
With Alfred’s arm still draped across his shoulders it was easy enough for anyone watching to think that Alfred was the one leading them off out of the heavy double doors at the far end of the room, but it was Arthur’s steps that were half an inch ahead and as the door swung shut behind them Alfred dropped his hands to his sides and looked at the older man, something puzzled in his eyes.
“You’re acting weird,” he pointed out, and just for a moment Arthur sorely wanted to hit him, but such urges were commonplace and he pushed it aside as he (usually) did every other time. Already, Alfred seemed impatient, if the way he was lightly tapping one foot against the parquet flooring and restlessly crossing and uncrossing his arms was anything to go by, and Arthur found himself in the uncomfortable state of wanting to yell at him while his heart was pounding with the thought of the words he wanted to say. As of yet, they were still stuck in his throat.
“Well, Arts? What do you want? I can’t stand out here all day.”
“We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we?” Gods, it was something right out of one of Alfred’s awful romantic comedies, but at least he could find solace in the idea that it was something the younger man would be able to identify with.
“Uh… yeah. My whole life,” Alfred replied, scratching the back of his neck and wrinkling his nose slightly. “So what?”
“Oh, nothing. Uh… Look, I wondered if you wanted to, ah… go for a drink, or something.”
Alfred made a face, twisting his lips slightly and frowning. “A drink? You never invite me out for a drink and when you do you just get drunk and then start ranting about Lafayette aaaandthisisn’tthatkindofdrinkisit.”
He didn’t need a mirror to know he’d gone red. Alfred was staring at him like he’d just realised he was there at all, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Ah… wow. Uh…”
“Forget about it.”
If the ground had opened up and swallowed him right there and then he would have been grateful, and Alfred couldn’t have looked more ill at ease if he’d tried. The younger man forced a smile, and ploughed on in his usual wrecking-ball way.
“No, man, I mean… yeah, I’ll go for a drink with you, but… jeez, Arthur, I’m not… that is, I’ve never…”
“I said forget about it. Come on, before we’re missed.”
--------------------
| Chapter Two |>
Genre: Romance
Characters/Pairing: America, England, Prussia, France, Russia, Germany, Argentina. US/UK
Rating/Warnings: PG for later. Possibly R. I'm not sure yet.
Summary: Arthur finally plucks up the nerve to ask Alfred out on a date, only to find that the American nation has never looked at him 'that way'. However, the simple request sets off an uncomfortable train of thought in Alfred's mind as he begins to wonder exactly why that might be.
*****
‘Til now, I always got by on my own, I never really cared until I met y—‘
Arthur made an irritated sound and smacked his hand against the ‘off’ button of the radio. He was sure that song was dogging him and it was only making it more difficult to concentrate on what he was going to do. What he wanted to do. So far he had attempted three times to get the words out but twice nothing had happened and the third time he had been interrupted and simply shot a snide insult instead. It had done very little to help his cause but he supposed that Alfred had to be used to that kind of thing by now.
He didn’t think that the younger man was on to him, but how could he be? Arthur was rather aware that he was no prize catch and he had spent so many years ridiculing the American nation that it was almost second nature for him to do so. Today, he was going to do it. He was going to tell the idiot how he felt once and for all, for better or worse. The consequences didn’t bear thinking about if it went badly – he knew he’d not feel right showing his face for a while – but he was refusing to allow himself to be beaten by such a foolish thing as a crush on a boy.
Gazing up at the high ceiling of his hotel room, Arthur let out a slow sigh and shook his head. He hated being in this country, but he loved it all the same. There was no other land quite like America, no other place made him feel so bloody insignificant and it drove him insane. Yet, he always felt so remarkably comfortable here. Perhaps that was odd considering his history with it but they were far from Virginia now, and such things didn’t bother him as much when there was nothing around to remind him.
Finally, he rolled out of bed and moved to the bathroom to wash his face and shave the slight crop of stubble that was dusting the lower half of his face. Putting on his tie took too long, and it was when he noticed that his hands were shaking that he had to open the minibar and grab a small bottle of whiskey that he downed in one mouthful. As the liquid burned its way down to his stomach and settled there as an uncomfortable heat, he leaned on the dresser and stared at himself. The past two decades had not been terribly kind to Arthur, and it showed when he stopped to look at his reflection. He was a little too thin, he knew that, and the pallor of his skin was just shy of unhealthy. What bothered him the most were the purplish shadows under his eyes, and had he been a vainer man (one did come to mind) he might have used makeup to cover them.
However, Arthur was not that vain of a man and he took one last look at himself before grabbing his jacket and heading out.
The conference room was already bustling when he arrived, and for a change the daggers being shot at him were not from the eyes of any of his brothers (who had declined to attend) but from the disgruntled-looking Argentinian in the corner of the room. Arthur did his best to ignore it, not wanting to open that can of worms right at this moment, and instead moved across to where he could see Gilbert leaning, obviously bored, against a window frame.
“Morning,” he said as he approached, managing a wan smile. The albino ex-nation glanced at him, red eyes flickering, then he grinned.
“Hallo, Arts.” There was a pause as he looked the man up and down. “Ya look like shit, if ya don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
Arthur grunted and shook his head, clasping his hands behind his back as he cast his gaze out over the view from the window. “If I did mind I’m quite sure you would have said it anyway. What the devil are you doing here?” He frowned over at the other man, watching as he shrugged, a slightly uncomfortable-looking rise and fall of his shoulders. Gilbert’s presence was entirely unnecessary at functions such as this and everyone there knew it, but he continued to tag along with his brother to each and every one.
“Gotta keep an eye on the kid, y’know?” he said eventually, jerking his head over to where Ludwig was engaged in a conversation with Francis. “God knows the kinda things he might agree to if I wasn’t here watchin’ his back.”
A soft chuckle worked its way up from Arthur’s chest and he smiled, clapping a hand down on Gilbert’s shoulder. “Jolly good to see you, in any case. You know, I’m going over to Copenhagen in a few weeks, perhaps you’d like to—?”
“Ja, yeah, sure, I’ll tag along with ya.” The Prussian nation was grinning widely now as he nodded. “Been forever since I saw him.”
“Great, great, I’ll book you a ticket and forward the details over to you by Monday, it…”
Gilbert’s expression had become slightly pained at the idea of Arthur spending money on him, but that wasn’t what had caused the man to trail off. A prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck, something no doubt shared by many people in the room and certainly by his companion who paled to a paper white, announcing the arrival of the softly smiling mountain of a man that was Ivan Braginski, accompanied by the one person Arthur was both wanting and dreading to see. Alfred F. Jones.
“I’ll speak to you later,” Arthur said then, giving a small nod, imperceptible to anyone but the person it was meant for, over to Francis who quickly excused himself from Ludwig’s presence and moved over to greet the Prussian with a mischievous smile and a kiss on his cheek. With that taken care of Arthur approached Alfred, wishing for a long moment that Argentina would stop glaring at him so he could concentrate a little better, and gently tapped one finger against the taller blonde’s arm.
“Oi,” he said, and Alfred glanced over his shoulder, a cocky grin immediately flashing over his features. “Can I talk to you?”
“You are talking to me,” Alfred replied, then he laughed and wrinkled his nose to push his glasses further up the bridge, slinging one arm around Arthur’s shoulders and steering him away from the small group he had been in conversation with. “I’m just messing with you, old man. What’s up?”
“Not here. Come with me.”
“Uh… sure.”
With Alfred’s arm still draped across his shoulders it was easy enough for anyone watching to think that Alfred was the one leading them off out of the heavy double doors at the far end of the room, but it was Arthur’s steps that were half an inch ahead and as the door swung shut behind them Alfred dropped his hands to his sides and looked at the older man, something puzzled in his eyes.
“You’re acting weird,” he pointed out, and just for a moment Arthur sorely wanted to hit him, but such urges were commonplace and he pushed it aside as he (usually) did every other time. Already, Alfred seemed impatient, if the way he was lightly tapping one foot against the parquet flooring and restlessly crossing and uncrossing his arms was anything to go by, and Arthur found himself in the uncomfortable state of wanting to yell at him while his heart was pounding with the thought of the words he wanted to say. As of yet, they were still stuck in his throat.
“Well, Arts? What do you want? I can’t stand out here all day.”
“We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we?” Gods, it was something right out of one of Alfred’s awful romantic comedies, but at least he could find solace in the idea that it was something the younger man would be able to identify with.
“Uh… yeah. My whole life,” Alfred replied, scratching the back of his neck and wrinkling his nose slightly. “So what?”
“Oh, nothing. Uh… Look, I wondered if you wanted to, ah… go for a drink, or something.”
Alfred made a face, twisting his lips slightly and frowning. “A drink? You never invite me out for a drink and when you do you just get drunk and then start ranting about Lafayette aaaandthisisn’tthatkindofdrinkisit.”
He didn’t need a mirror to know he’d gone red. Alfred was staring at him like he’d just realised he was there at all, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Ah… wow. Uh…”
“Forget about it.”
If the ground had opened up and swallowed him right there and then he would have been grateful, and Alfred couldn’t have looked more ill at ease if he’d tried. The younger man forced a smile, and ploughed on in his usual wrecking-ball way.
“No, man, I mean… yeah, I’ll go for a drink with you, but… jeez, Arthur, I’m not… that is, I’ve never…”
“I said forget about it. Come on, before we’re missed.”
--------------------
| Chapter Two |>
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-05 11:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 12:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 12:22 am (UTC)Up! Date! Up! Date! Date! Date! DATE!! D8
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 12:38 am (UTC)*hides*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 12:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 12:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-07 04:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 01:38 am (UTC)Haha I can picture America's face change when he finally realised England had just asked him on a date; hilarious! XD
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 01:39 am (UTC)SO MANY DEMANDS FOR UPDATES AAAH
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 03:05 am (UTC)That was so awesome/depressing! NEED MOAR!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 03:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 04:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 01:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 08:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-06 01:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-07 03:16 am (UTC)UPDAAAAAATE THIS! PLEASE UPDATE THIS!
/sobs in a corner
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-07 03:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-07 07:16 am (UTC)/sees others chiming. /joins in.
Update! Update! Update~!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-08 05:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-08 07:37 pm (UTC)It still makes me weak though.. ;A;
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-09 02:31 pm (UTC)it's your fault, you know. you can't submit such an engrossing story and then stop it right there!
"chapter two" at the bottom... it mocks me!
updaaaaaate! DX
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-09 06:32 pm (UTC)I would have updated by now but I've spent most of the weekend being very poorly. But I'm better now :V
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-09 06:42 pm (UTC)heh... i knew it was gonna be torture, so i actually put off reading it until my willpower ran out. i'm such a child sometimes ^_^'