Obsession
Fanfic/Fancomics: Fanfiction
Title: Obsession
Genre: Romance, Angst
Word Count: 1948
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: You had an obsession with flying...Ever since you were a little boy you've been obsessed with flying.
You had an obsession with flying...
Ever since you were a little boy you've been obsessed with flying. You never said it, you didn't need to. It was written all over you. The way you smiled at when the prospect of flying came up.
It was something you yourself probably weren't aware of. But I knew. I always knew.
"Big brother!" you called to me suddenly making my head snap up. We were out in the garden. I was reading, while you running about chasing bugs and birds. "I'm going to fly someday! Just like this butterfly" your small voice had sounded so sure as you starred at me, past the butterfly on your nose.
I laughed at you. Not because of your words, but because you looked so cute. "I'm sure you will someday." I replied. You smiled at me and went back to trying to shake off the butterfly, before you gave up and collapsed on the grass beside me.
As you laid there, the butterfly flew off.
"Fly away little boy!" you said watching it fly off.
When it was gone, you turned to me and hugged me. I set down my book and returned the gesture.
"When I fly you'll come with me big brother!" you said before falling asleep in my arms.
You had an obsession with flying...
You made a plane. You came to me, in a cold December in the middle of the night. You were raving on and I had no idea why. Finally I snapped you out of your talking and asked you what you were on about that was so important that you had to come in the middle of the night.
"I flew today!" you said excitedly, before going back to talking. You said you and North Carolina got to test the first plane today out on the coast. With some boys you called the Wright Brothers. You called the plane the Kitty Hawk.
You were so excited I couldn't find it in myself to make a rude or catty remark, so I decided to say what I felt. You wouldn't remember anyways.
"I'm proud of you." you hugged me close to you and twirled me around before asking if you could spend the night on my couch for the night.
I said yes.
You had an obsession with flying...
During WWI you begged to fly and be a spy. No one objected to it. We needed to know more about the Axis.
Towards the end of the war, you became more involved, but I think it was mostly because you wanted to fly. You flew with some of the Allied squadrons, and at the end of the day, you always came to see me and talk about how amazing it was.
It was 1918, and some all-American squadrons begin patrolling the skies above the trenches. You American were using second rate weapons and obsolete air-craft (which worried me, you could get hurt). But you seemed fine with it, never complaining or giving off that signature pout of yours.
Your numbers began to grow, your equipment improved. Then, after I did enough convincing, France gave you the SPAD, one of the best French aircraft in the war. You were amazed and excited. Of course France, being France, decided to tell you I begged him to give it to you.
I thought you would make fun of me, and make me feel stupid, but instead you ran to me. You threw you arms around my neck. You squeezed me tight and after a few minutes of struggling, I returned the hug.
"Thank you Artie!" you whispered in my ear before grabbing my hand and telling me I had to come spend the first ride with you. That was the first time I flew with you, but not the last.
You were obsessed with flying...
We had just won the war. I had gotten news that you had been injured during an attack on Japan where you dropped two nukes. I was running through the crowded streets filled with people cheering and celebrating. I ignored the drunk men trying to stop me to congratulate me (I was still in uniform) to get to you. They said you were being dropped off at my house.
I rounded the corner of a street to come to my home and tumbled through the gate to see you sitting there. Your plane was on the lawn, it wasn't too bad. It was covered in burns and one of the wings was damaged, but other than that it looked fine.
You weren't too bad either. Your head was bandaged, your eye was bruised, and your left arm was in a sling. You were standing next to the plane smiling a megawatt smile, running your hands over the side of the large hunk of metal.
"Alfred!" I called out as you opened the door. You were going to attempt to fly.
You turned to look at me, just as I tackled you in a hug.
"Arthur you breathed out." leaning into the hug, before pulling back to stare in my eyes.
Just as you leaned down, and I leaned up, your planes did a victory fly overhead. We shared our first kiss under the planes.
You were obsessed with flying...
It was just after WWII. They let you keep the Lockheed P-80 Shooting Star. You kept it in your backyard. You called me saying you were coming over to take me to McDonald's. I rolled my eyes at you.
Then, as I set down the phone, your plane flew overhead, into British territory. You gave my people and parliament quite a scare.
You landed in my backyard and laughed, saying it was just you. My advisor chewed yours out while we drove to the nearest McDonald's, I'm sad to say that we have one here in London, and got you your lunch.
You had an obsession with flying...
You made them fly over us as we watched the Fourth of July fireworks. I sat there and watched the colors of red, white, a blue dance in the sky, hearing planes and seeing them fly over us.
I was only there because you had told me it was bad to skip your boyfriend birthday. I was not a bad boyfriend no matter what France said about us.
"They are so cool!" you yelled at me over the fireworks, "I wish I was flying!" you weren't allowed to fly. Your boss told you to take the month off. You had tried to refuse, but after that, he made you take a break. I knew it was killing you.
"Those planes aren't going anywhere. Besides, when you do get to fly it'll be better knowing you waited so long!" I shouted back.
You said nothing. Just hugged me close to you as the fireworks continued to explode overhead.
You were obsessed with flying...
When you held my hand and asked me to marry you, I saw you had the air force fly overhead.
I stared down at you in shock. I think you took my silence wrong.
"Please Arthur," you said slowly. "I know we've had our problems, but in the 50 years we've been together, I've been the happiest I've ever been. I can't promise it'll be perfect, but it'll be us. It'll be special."
I couldn't speak. I was too happy. I nodded, tears in my eyes. I felt you kiss away my tears while holding my hand - I felt you slip the ring onto the correct finger
Thus, the special relationship was born.
You had an obsession with flying...
Our advisors thought that we were crazy, but they let us get married.
You invited almost everyone to the wedding, even Ivan. As I was walked down the aisle by France, I heard them. Planes flying over while my national anthem played. Followed by more planes and your anthem after your brother, whose name escapes me right now, walked you down the aisle.
We said our "I do"s and you had the planes fly over once again.
You leaned in and kissed me slowly. Everyone broke into applause. You grabbed my hand pulled me down the aisle before we jump into the limo and we shared another kiss.
You had an obsession with flying...
I told you to stop flying planes on weekends, or I would divorce you. You would beg at my feet, then we would show our love for each other in the bedroom.
But that weekend you would go out and fly your plane anyway.
I joined you twice, it was fun up until you made me go upside down.
You laughed, taking me to our house and kissing me, "Sorry." You said, "What do you want me to do for that?"
I would make you cook for the next month (you liked that one), and do the dishes, and half of the laundry.
You had an obsession with flying...
One week the weatherman called for storms all week long. Weekends included.
"You can't fly today. There's a storm warning." I said not looking up from my embroidery.
"Alright." You sounded like you wanted to anyway.
And you did.
You went and flew your plane in the storm.
That was the first plane you ruined, your only first one. You had an ejection seat installed a while back. Then you came home safely. I cried, hugging you close and sobbing in your chest, "I thought you died! I thought you died!"
"Never." You kissed my head, "You and I are gonna be together until we both die."
You still went out and flew around on the weekends, but never during a storm.
You still had an obsession with flying...
It worsened when you started playing that Call Of Duty game. I was watching you fly around our old little home. You were doing tricks in the air and waving at me after each one.
That was when another plane came into sight. It was a Japanese plane.
You guys were just playing around. Practicing what you saw in the game. When something went wrong and his engine exploded.
You were stupid and got caught underneath him as he fell. You both landed on the ground in a huge fireball.
I had already called 911.
By the time they arrived, it was too late.
Do you still have an obsession with flying?
They flew over as I held your flag in my hands as I cried.
They laid you in the ground, and more planes flew over. They gave the 21 Gun salute, and buried you like you where an army member.
I cried, for three months. I eventually got well enough to show my face at world meetings, but I could never keep calm when the representative from America went up to speak. Eventually, I just had to step out when your rep spoke.
Ten months later, on the day you went down, I cried.
Do you still have an obsession with planes?
Do you want me to learn how to fly planes?
If you survived would you still fly?
I bet you still have an obsession with planes.
That's why I came to where you rested today, I asked for the planes to fly over.
"I miss you." I cried, sobbing and laying on the ground where you rested. "You loved planes. We should have buried you in one." I smiled before collapsing in sobs against your graves again.
This is for the 2011 USUK Summer Camp.
Title: Obsession
Genre: Romance, Angst
Word Count: 1948
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: You had an obsession with flying...Ever since you were a little boy you've been obsessed with flying.
You had an obsession with flying...
Ever since you were a little boy you've been obsessed with flying. You never said it, you didn't need to. It was written all over you. The way you smiled at when the prospect of flying came up.
It was something you yourself probably weren't aware of. But I knew. I always knew.
"Big brother!" you called to me suddenly making my head snap up. We were out in the garden. I was reading, while you running about chasing bugs and birds. "I'm going to fly someday! Just like this butterfly" your small voice had sounded so sure as you starred at me, past the butterfly on your nose.
I laughed at you. Not because of your words, but because you looked so cute. "I'm sure you will someday." I replied. You smiled at me and went back to trying to shake off the butterfly, before you gave up and collapsed on the grass beside me.
As you laid there, the butterfly flew off.
"Fly away little boy!" you said watching it fly off.
When it was gone, you turned to me and hugged me. I set down my book and returned the gesture.
"When I fly you'll come with me big brother!" you said before falling asleep in my arms.
You had an obsession with flying...
You made a plane. You came to me, in a cold December in the middle of the night. You were raving on and I had no idea why. Finally I snapped you out of your talking and asked you what you were on about that was so important that you had to come in the middle of the night.
"I flew today!" you said excitedly, before going back to talking. You said you and North Carolina got to test the first plane today out on the coast. With some boys you called the Wright Brothers. You called the plane the Kitty Hawk.
You were so excited I couldn't find it in myself to make a rude or catty remark, so I decided to say what I felt. You wouldn't remember anyways.
"I'm proud of you." you hugged me close to you and twirled me around before asking if you could spend the night on my couch for the night.
I said yes.
You had an obsession with flying...
During WWI you begged to fly and be a spy. No one objected to it. We needed to know more about the Axis.
Towards the end of the war, you became more involved, but I think it was mostly because you wanted to fly. You flew with some of the Allied squadrons, and at the end of the day, you always came to see me and talk about how amazing it was.
It was 1918, and some all-American squadrons begin patrolling the skies above the trenches. You American were using second rate weapons and obsolete air-craft (which worried me, you could get hurt). But you seemed fine with it, never complaining or giving off that signature pout of yours.
Your numbers began to grow, your equipment improved. Then, after I did enough convincing, France gave you the SPAD, one of the best French aircraft in the war. You were amazed and excited. Of course France, being France, decided to tell you I begged him to give it to you.
I thought you would make fun of me, and make me feel stupid, but instead you ran to me. You threw you arms around my neck. You squeezed me tight and after a few minutes of struggling, I returned the hug.
"Thank you Artie!" you whispered in my ear before grabbing my hand and telling me I had to come spend the first ride with you. That was the first time I flew with you, but not the last.
You were obsessed with flying...
We had just won the war. I had gotten news that you had been injured during an attack on Japan where you dropped two nukes. I was running through the crowded streets filled with people cheering and celebrating. I ignored the drunk men trying to stop me to congratulate me (I was still in uniform) to get to you. They said you were being dropped off at my house.
I rounded the corner of a street to come to my home and tumbled through the gate to see you sitting there. Your plane was on the lawn, it wasn't too bad. It was covered in burns and one of the wings was damaged, but other than that it looked fine.
You weren't too bad either. Your head was bandaged, your eye was bruised, and your left arm was in a sling. You were standing next to the plane smiling a megawatt smile, running your hands over the side of the large hunk of metal.
"Alfred!" I called out as you opened the door. You were going to attempt to fly.
You turned to look at me, just as I tackled you in a hug.
"Arthur you breathed out." leaning into the hug, before pulling back to stare in my eyes.
Just as you leaned down, and I leaned up, your planes did a victory fly overhead. We shared our first kiss under the planes.
You were obsessed with flying...
It was just after WWII. They let you keep the Lockheed P-80 Shooting Star. You kept it in your backyard. You called me saying you were coming over to take me to McDonald's. I rolled my eyes at you.
Then, as I set down the phone, your plane flew overhead, into British territory. You gave my people and parliament quite a scare.
You landed in my backyard and laughed, saying it was just you. My advisor chewed yours out while we drove to the nearest McDonald's, I'm sad to say that we have one here in London, and got you your lunch.
You had an obsession with flying...
You made them fly over us as we watched the Fourth of July fireworks. I sat there and watched the colors of red, white, a blue dance in the sky, hearing planes and seeing them fly over us.
I was only there because you had told me it was bad to skip your boyfriend birthday. I was not a bad boyfriend no matter what France said about us.
"They are so cool!" you yelled at me over the fireworks, "I wish I was flying!" you weren't allowed to fly. Your boss told you to take the month off. You had tried to refuse, but after that, he made you take a break. I knew it was killing you.
"Those planes aren't going anywhere. Besides, when you do get to fly it'll be better knowing you waited so long!" I shouted back.
You said nothing. Just hugged me close to you as the fireworks continued to explode overhead.
You were obsessed with flying...
When you held my hand and asked me to marry you, I saw you had the air force fly overhead.
I stared down at you in shock. I think you took my silence wrong.
"Please Arthur," you said slowly. "I know we've had our problems, but in the 50 years we've been together, I've been the happiest I've ever been. I can't promise it'll be perfect, but it'll be us. It'll be special."
I couldn't speak. I was too happy. I nodded, tears in my eyes. I felt you kiss away my tears while holding my hand - I felt you slip the ring onto the correct finger
Thus, the special relationship was born.
You had an obsession with flying...
Our advisors thought that we were crazy, but they let us get married.
You invited almost everyone to the wedding, even Ivan. As I was walked down the aisle by France, I heard them. Planes flying over while my national anthem played. Followed by more planes and your anthem after your brother, whose name escapes me right now, walked you down the aisle.
We said our "I do"s and you had the planes fly over once again.
You leaned in and kissed me slowly. Everyone broke into applause. You grabbed my hand pulled me down the aisle before we jump into the limo and we shared another kiss.
You had an obsession with flying...
I told you to stop flying planes on weekends, or I would divorce you. You would beg at my feet, then we would show our love for each other in the bedroom.
But that weekend you would go out and fly your plane anyway.
I joined you twice, it was fun up until you made me go upside down.
You laughed, taking me to our house and kissing me, "Sorry." You said, "What do you want me to do for that?"
I would make you cook for the next month (you liked that one), and do the dishes, and half of the laundry.
You had an obsession with flying...
One week the weatherman called for storms all week long. Weekends included.
"You can't fly today. There's a storm warning." I said not looking up from my embroidery.
"Alright." You sounded like you wanted to anyway.
And you did.
You went and flew your plane in the storm.
That was the first plane you ruined, your only first one. You had an ejection seat installed a while back. Then you came home safely. I cried, hugging you close and sobbing in your chest, "I thought you died! I thought you died!"
"Never." You kissed my head, "You and I are gonna be together until we both die."
You still went out and flew around on the weekends, but never during a storm.
You still had an obsession with flying...
It worsened when you started playing that Call Of Duty game. I was watching you fly around our old little home. You were doing tricks in the air and waving at me after each one.
That was when another plane came into sight. It was a Japanese plane.
You guys were just playing around. Practicing what you saw in the game. When something went wrong and his engine exploded.
You were stupid and got caught underneath him as he fell. You both landed on the ground in a huge fireball.
I had already called 911.
By the time they arrived, it was too late.
Do you still have an obsession with flying?
They flew over as I held your flag in my hands as I cried.
They laid you in the ground, and more planes flew over. They gave the 21 Gun salute, and buried you like you where an army member.
I cried, for three months. I eventually got well enough to show my face at world meetings, but I could never keep calm when the representative from America went up to speak. Eventually, I just had to step out when your rep spoke.
Ten months later, on the day you went down, I cried.
Do you still have an obsession with planes?
Do you want me to learn how to fly planes?
If you survived would you still fly?
I bet you still have an obsession with planes.
That's why I came to where you rested today, I asked for the planes to fly over.
"I miss you." I cried, sobbing and laying on the ground where you rested. "You loved planes. We should have buried you in one." I smiled before collapsing in sobs against your graves again.
This is for the 2011 USUK Summer Camp.