[Fan Fic] Love is a Rhythm, You are the Music
Title: Love is a Rhythm, You are the Music
Genre: Meme-ish
Pairing(s): US/UK, slight RusAm at the end
Rating/Warnings: PG-13. Foreplay, drugs, murder, all that jazz.
Summary: 10 USxUK fic-lets based off of songs from mi iPod.
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1. Angel of Mine-Monica
If he closed his eyes, Alfred could remember the first day he’d seen Arthur. He remembered standing in a vast, open prairie, a wind tugging at his hair. He remembered looking up into the sun, squinting against its rays. He could remember someone much larger than himself all but blocking out the sun as they stepped towards him. He’d been afraid at first, but as his eyes readjusted and a smiling, green-eyed face came into focus, he’d felt calm again. His first thought had been that this person was some otherworldly being, as his clothes were much different than the simple white blouse Alfred had worn in those earlier years, and he had never seen eyes the color of the grass and the trees (he’d never seen his own eyes either, but that was another story). When Arthur picked him up, murmuring words of reassurance, he’d felt happy, glad that such an amazing creature had found him. It would always be this way whenever he saw Arthur.
When he was much older, long after the Revolution, after the Second World War, his heart would still leap and do somersaults whenever Arthur walked into the room, whenever he gave Alfred that small smile reserved just for him, and he realized what word best described how Arthur seemed to him that first day.
Angel.
2. 21 Guns-Green Day
Looking out at the horizon, Alfred released a sigh and watched as the cold air turned it to smoke-like mist. Down in the valley below, he knew his men were both freezing and starving. They’d been there since mid-December; disease was rampant, rations were low, and despite all the work and good intentions of the Camp Followers and the news of that drill master that Gilbert was sending, morale was even lower.
Another sigh, and he wondered if maybe he wouldn’t just give up and admit that, yes, Arthur was right, that he had no idea how to be an independent nation, that he was willing to compromise.
But that meant becoming a colony once more, and that was something he could not-would not-do. He refused to be a subordinate for any longer. And yet he knew that with his war, he was hurting the person who’d mattered most since he was born.
Gazing out at the steadily rising sun, he wondered what he ought to do.
3. Antebellum-Vienna Teng
He’d done it. He’d won, and had so become an independent nation. He avoided eye contact with Arthur and instead focused on the scratching sound produced by the quill pens as representatives signed the agreement that formally ended their war. He was glad it was over, glad that he didn’t have to watch in sickened horror as his countrymen died for his sake, glad that he no longer had the Englishman on the other side of the table hounding him and bombarding him with taxes and forcing his people to quarter unwelcome soldiers.
But in his heart he knew that it wasn’t over, it would never really be over. There was still some part of them that was human, that held grudges and felt guilt. He knew that even if they finally made up between themselves, they would never have what they’d had before this war. It was gone forever.
4. Lacrymosa-Evanescence
Arthur knew that he was partly (well, mostly, but he refused to admit it) to blame for Alfred’s rebellion.
Arriving home that morning had felt strange, surreal, as if it were all some horrible dream, that he’d awaken and go over to Alfred’s house and find he was still welcome. He knew with anguish, however, that it was not so.
The feeling had begun to wear off by the afternoon as he made his tea, remembering how Alfred and his men had thrown boxes of the stuff into the harbor in an act of utter defiance.
By the time he was ready to go to bed, he knew he’d be getting no sleep. He kept pacing around his bedroom, wondering how his former colony was faring, if he was surviving well on his own. It was only the now-painful memory of a small Alfred swinging a full grown buffalo around that forced him into bed, and even then he couldn’t help but think that if he had the chance to do it all differently, he most certainly would.
5. God is a DJ-Pink
“Oh. My. God. You mean you actually have jukeboxes?”
“Why yes, Alfred, I do. This is the twentieth century, and they’re not exclusively yours, you know.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with Arthur?”
Arthur wasn’t sure whether to be amused at Alfred’s reaction to something so simple, or annoyed that the younger blonde thought that he was that behind the times.
“We totally have to dance!” Alfred exclaimed, grabbing a startled Arthur by the wrist and dragging him out to the empty floor. He stopped suddenly. “Oh. Wait. I don’t have any coins.”
There was an awkward silence, and just as Arthur was about to reach into his pocket and pull a coin out, Alfred grabbed his left hand and set his right hand on Arthur’s waist and began dancing what felt like a deranged waltz.
“Alfred, what’re you doing?” Arthur hissed. “There are people watching, and there’s no music on.”
“Silly Arthur, you’re the music!”
6. I Bruise Easily-Natasha Bedingfield
He didn’t understand what he was so afraid of. He had had sex before.
Just never with Alfred.
The taller blonde was kissing Arthur’s neck as he slid the button-down shirt from the Englishman’s shoulders, letting it fall onto the floor with the rest of their clothes. Arthur let himself be lowered against the bed, his heart racing wildly as he groaned, arching into Alfred’s kisses and wrapping his arms around the American. He gasped as Alfred trailed his fingers along his side, coming to rest on his hip.
He swallowed hard; yes, he’d done this before, but never with someone he had particularly cared for. It had always been one night stands to relieve frustrations or a desperate need for some sort of closeness with someone. So he wanted this to go right, to be meaningful and bring him closer to someone he did care for.
“Ready?” he heard Alfred murmur against his neck as he reached into the side-table drawer for the bottle of lube. Arthur nodded, his heart beating faster, if that was even possible.
He watched as Alfred uncapped the bottle, and just as he was about to pour the lube onto his fingers, Arthur said, “Alfred, wait.”
Alfred stopped and looked back at him, a look of concern on his face. Arthur took his lover’s face in his hands and looked him in the eyes.
“Don’t….don’t hurt me, okay?” he said, flinching inwardly. He was Arthur Kirkland, damn it, not some blushing bride on her wedding night. He instantly regretted saying it as he waited for Alfred’s reaction. He was afraid that the taller blonde would simply gather his clothes and just leave him….again.
Alfred leaned his head down and kissed each scar and bruise on Arthur’s chest before kissing his lips and whispering, “I won’t. I promise.”
7. What is Hip?-Tower of Power
Arthur frowned as he stared at Alfred’s chair, which was, on the last day of the world conference, still empty.
“Toris,” he said. “When was the last time you saw Alfred?”
The Lithuanian thought for a moment before saying, “The last I saw him was the day I left to visit Feliks, which was several weeks ago. I seem to recall that he was going through a box of his old things from the ‘60s and ‘70s.”
Arthur frowned. He made a note to pay his lover a little visit and see just what was going on.
Arthur smelled Alfred’s house before he even got onto the porch. The scent was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He knocked on the door twice and received no answer, so he found the spare key under the doormat and let himself in.
He was immediately assaulted with one of the foulest smells he’d ever encountered, and he nearly had an asthma attack (and he wasn’t even asthmatic) from the scent. As he adjusted to the smell, he suddenly realized what it was.
Weed.
Scowling fiercely, he made his way into the living room, where the scent was strongest. A strange medley of the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, the Who, and Tower of Power was playing in the background, and sitting on his coffee table in loose, colorful clothing, with a strip of cloth around his head and his arms raised in a meditative style was none other than Alfred.
“Alfred F. Jones,” Arthur growled. “What the hell are you doing?”
Alfred’s eyes slowly slid open, and in his high state of mind, it took him a few minutes before he recognized Arthur. When he did, he smiled and said, “Artie, baby!”
“Don’t you ‘baby’ me,” Arthur snapped, his eyesight swimming from the fumes. “What the hell are you doing smoking weed again?”
“Don’t be a hypocrite, Artie!” Alfred said, pouting childishly. “You did it too! So did Washington and ol’ Jeffy!”
Arthur grit his teeth and said, “Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take to air this place-Hey!”
Alfred had stood and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders and was pulling him to the floor, saying, “Baby, let’s make love, not war!”
8. Let’s Get Married-Jagged Edge and Run
Alfred was nervous as he fingered the small velvet box in his pocket. He went over his plan in his mind as he and Arthur walked through Central Park; as soon as they reached the bridge, he’d do it. He’d propose to Arthur.
Said Englishman currently had his arms wrapped around Alfred’s, a smile on his face as he sighed contentedly.
“Thank you, Alfred, for such a nice evening,” he murmured. “I enjoyed it.”
“So….so did I,” Alfred replied, his nerves getting the best of him. They’d reached the bridge. He stopped walking.
Arthur frowned at the hesitation and the sudden stop and looked up. “Something wrong?”
Alfred tried keeping his hands from shaking as he put his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and kissed him. “Arthur….I love you more than anything in this world. I want to be with you forever, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Kneeling, he took the box out of his pocket, and opening it, he said, “Arthur Kirkland, will you marry me?”
Arthur’s highly uncharacteristic shriek startled him, and he was tackled to the ground and kissed passionately amid chants of “Yes, yes, yes!”
9. Call Me When You’re Sober-Evanescence
“Alfreeeed,” Arthur whined as he waved a bottle around, his foul breath making it obvious that he’d made a bartender very happy that night. “I need you Alfreeed.”
Alfred sighed irritably, twisting his ring. He hated it when Arthur came home, drunk as a lord, and either yelled at him for things that happened two hundred years ago or whined and demanded sex. In one motion, he swept the Englishman up over his shoulder and carried him to the bedroom, where he set him down on the bed and pulled his shoes off.
“Alfred, pleeease?”
“No,” Alfred answered quietly, prying the bottle from Arthur’s hands. “Not until you don’t need this to feel good.”
10. Ex-Lover’s Lover-Voltaire
In a blind fury, Arthur stormed into Alfred’s bedroom and was enraged to find his ex being straddled by Ivan, of all people. With a snarl and a burst of strength, Arthur yanked the Russian by his hair onto the floor and proceeded to slit his throat with the knife he’d concealed behind his back. Ivan had been too shocked to make a sound the entire time, and the only sound that came from him now was a strangled gurgling noise as his blood flowed from his throat, and with a last desperate gasp, he died.
“Jesus Christ, Arthur!” Alfred shrieked. “What the fuck-holy shit-oh God….oh God oh God oh God!”
“Shut up,” Arthur growled darkly, wiping the blood-stained knife on his sweater vest. He turned toward his former lover and began undoing his belt buckle. “You both should have known not to cross me.”
He’d been a touch too merciless, he concluded as he listened to the incessant whimpering coming from the American who was curled up in a ball . Standing, he picked up the knife from where it lay on the bed table and went to where Ivan’s body still lay. Yanking the Russian’s head back, Arthur set the edge of the knife against the cut he’d made, and with a demonic grin, he said, “I think I’ll send your head to Moscow.”
Snapping out of his reverie, Arthur was met with the sight of a very-much alive Ivan, his hands in Alfred’s hair, playing with Nantucket. Alfred was giggling and snorting at his touch, and it made Arthur sick knowing that he’d once been able to make Alfred do that. It made his heart ache knowing that, once again, Alfred was lost to him. He knew exactly what he’d like to do to that bloody Russian, but he knew he wouldn’t dare. It was all wishful thinking.
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Notes
1. During the American Revolution, the Prussian drill master Baron Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben came and helped train the American troops at Valley Forge. [See Wiki for details]
2. Yes, Washington and Jefferson did grow marijuana on their plantations.