Re: Whose Clueless Now? USxUK part 2a
anonymous
December 24 2009, 01:39:54 UTC
Alfred was late when he stepped into the conference room, but since this was a usual occurrence, no one really paid him any mind - except for Arthur, which was also a usual occurrence.
Alfred pasted a smile on his face and hoped it looked genuine as Arthur glared at him and unknowingly sent tingles down Alfred’s spine.
“Finally deigned to grace us with your presence, Alfred?” The sarcasm was thick in Arthur’s tone, the patented you-are-a-total-idiot glare fully in place, but Alfred’s gaze shifted to Arthur’s hand as his long, dainty fingers tapped the wood. A flash of kissing those fingers before kissing something entirely different crossed Alfred’s mind and he had to force himself to look away.
He noticed Francis sending him a strange, calculating look from across the table, but he forced a chuckle and plopped down in a chair with what he hoped was his usual devil-may-care attitude.
“What, old man? Did you miss me?” Alfred goaded, but he secretly hoped his tone didn’t reveal just how sincere his question was as he looked across at Arthur.
Francis’s eyes were narrowed with suspicion, a small smirk beginning to curl his lips, but Arthur seemed to have remained completely oblivious to any slip up, his mouth twisting into a scowl. “Not in your dreams.”
Alfred couldn’t keep the automatic frown from tugging at his lips, but he recovered quickly, attempting to laugh it off, even though the retort had stung in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. You have no idea… “We all need our beauty sleep. It looks like you’re past due.”
Alfred knew it was a low blow with the way Arthur’s back stiffened and his fingers stopped tapping on the wood, his green eyes swirling with hurt that he had never really been able to hide. Although he had always tried to cover it up with his anger, which, Alfred admitted, the man had gotten pretty good at. Alfred knew it was problematic though, when the rage that crossed Arthur’s face only made Alfred’s body tense with desire instead of the usual bemused irritation.
“Not everyone can spend his days focused solely on his good looks,” Arthur spat. “Some of us have actual responsibilities that we have to take seriously.”
Alfred smiled a bit at the backhanded compliment hidden within the string of insults, an involuntary warmth spreading across his chest. “You think I’m good looking?”
The sincerity of his tone must have come across, instead of the sarcasm, because Arthur’s eyes widened a bit, his cheeks flushing.
“W-what?” Arthur spluttered, suddenly looking flustered. He seemed to be searching for the appropriate response, but he quickly found his bearings, and his frown deepened as his glare intensified. “No, of course not.”
Francis chuckled and Alfred started a bit when the nation put an arm around his shoulders. The man leaned in close to his left, his long blond locks brushing against his ear.
“Do not try to fish for compliments from Angleterre, mon cher.” Francis’s voice was full of amusement and his fingers squeezed Alfred’s shoulder. “One as unattractive as him could never fully appreciate what it means to be beautiful like you and me.”
“Belt up, Frog,” Arthur spat. “Beauty isn’t everything. Some of us favor intelligence over empty-headed idiocy.”
“Says the man with the uncomfortably large eyebrows,” Francis chuckled. “Really, Angleterre, jealousy does not become you.”
Arthur’s nostrils flared, his face red with rage and green eyes flashing, but he didn’t retort. Alfred could feel himself getting angry on his behalf. He thought Arthur was beautiful - absolutely gorgeous - and it pained him to see that Arthur seemed to think that he was ugly in any way. He apparently thought he was ugly enough that he would just accept Francis’s insults as the truth.
It wasn’t normal for the Englishman to just give up like that. Especially not with his most hated rival. It wasn’t right.
Alfred shrugged his shoulders, dislodging Francis’s arm and glared at him. The man had the audacity to look pleased and Alfred had this sinking suspicion that Francis had been playing him from the start, but he plunged on anyway.
Alfred pasted a smile on his face and hoped it looked genuine as Arthur glared at him and unknowingly sent tingles down Alfred’s spine.
“Finally deigned to grace us with your presence, Alfred?” The sarcasm was thick in Arthur’s tone, the patented you-are-a-total-idiot glare fully in place, but Alfred’s gaze shifted to Arthur’s hand as his long, dainty fingers tapped the wood. A flash of kissing those fingers before kissing something entirely different crossed Alfred’s mind and he had to force himself to look away.
He noticed Francis sending him a strange, calculating look from across the table, but he forced a chuckle and plopped down in a chair with what he hoped was his usual devil-may-care attitude.
“What, old man? Did you miss me?” Alfred goaded, but he secretly hoped his tone didn’t reveal just how sincere his question was as he looked across at Arthur.
Francis’s eyes were narrowed with suspicion, a small smirk beginning to curl his lips, but Arthur seemed to have remained completely oblivious to any slip up, his mouth twisting into a scowl. “Not in your dreams.”
Alfred couldn’t keep the automatic frown from tugging at his lips, but he recovered quickly, attempting to laugh it off, even though the retort had stung in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. You have no idea… “We all need our beauty sleep. It looks like you’re past due.”
Alfred knew it was a low blow with the way Arthur’s back stiffened and his fingers stopped tapping on the wood, his green eyes swirling with hurt that he had never really been able to hide. Although he had always tried to cover it up with his anger, which, Alfred admitted, the man had gotten pretty good at. Alfred knew it was problematic though, when the rage that crossed Arthur’s face only made Alfred’s body tense with desire instead of the usual bemused irritation.
“Not everyone can spend his days focused solely on his good looks,” Arthur spat. “Some of us have actual responsibilities that we have to take seriously.”
Alfred smiled a bit at the backhanded compliment hidden within the string of insults, an involuntary warmth spreading across his chest. “You think I’m good looking?”
The sincerity of his tone must have come across, instead of the sarcasm, because Arthur’s eyes widened a bit, his cheeks flushing.
“W-what?” Arthur spluttered, suddenly looking flustered. He seemed to be searching for the appropriate response, but he quickly found his bearings, and his frown deepened as his glare intensified. “No, of course not.”
Francis chuckled and Alfred started a bit when the nation put an arm around his shoulders. The man leaned in close to his left, his long blond locks brushing against his ear.
“Do not try to fish for compliments from Angleterre, mon cher.” Francis’s voice was full of amusement and his fingers squeezed Alfred’s shoulder. “One as unattractive as him could never fully appreciate what it means to be beautiful like you and me.”
“Belt up, Frog,” Arthur spat. “Beauty isn’t everything. Some of us favor intelligence over empty-headed idiocy.”
“Says the man with the uncomfortably large eyebrows,” Francis chuckled. “Really, Angleterre, jealousy does not become you.”
Arthur’s nostrils flared, his face red with rage and green eyes flashing, but he didn’t retort. Alfred could feel himself getting angry on his behalf. He thought Arthur was beautiful - absolutely gorgeous - and it pained him to see that Arthur seemed to think that he was ugly in any way. He apparently thought he was ugly enough that he would just accept Francis’s insults as the truth.
It wasn’t normal for the Englishman to just give up like that. Especially not with his most hated rival. It wasn’t right.
Alfred shrugged his shoulders, dislodging Francis’s arm and glared at him. The man had the audacity to look pleased and Alfred had this sinking suspicion that Francis had been playing him from the start, but he plunged on anyway.
“Arthur is not ugly, Francis. So, shut up.”
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Yeah! You go Alfred! Stick up for your man! *cough*
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