It is said that England is a closet pervert. But no, actually, he is still a virgin and he is never involved in a relationship. Someone has pursued him before but he refused because he did not like that nation. He also did have one crush or two but he was too shy to tell them. And more importantly, he never feels the need to have someone since he just feels being alone is great.
But one day in present, when he hangs out with friends in Europe, he realizes that almost everyone is talking about relationships and sex and stuff. To make things worse, it seems almost everybody is involved including the one who has pursued him before and Prussia! He suddenly feels very very lonely and shameful for his virginity.
I’d like the story goes from here. England is trying to find someone but he is still shy and does not know what to do. He wants to get rid of his virginity but he also wants to lose his virginity to someone he really loves.
How it ends is up to anon, though if you can make it US/UK, I will love you forever!
Bonus 1: At the same time, England feels uncertain about his future as well (e.g. economic downturn), which makes him want someone by his side even more.
Bonus 2: When hanging out with his friends, he pretends laughing or being disinterested in the topic about relationship though he does care.
Bonus 3: One of his friends (not France please) tries to give advice to him to help him (like changing the dressing style) though he does not know that England is now feeling lonely.
Bonus 4: When he actually goes out with someone, he tries to hide the fact that he is a virgin and it is his first date because he is afraid that he will be dumped if the other finds out.
Oh, and if you want to involve America in this, plz either make him no paring at all or pair him with England.
Tea and Coffee, 1/?
anonymous
March 17 2010, 20:25:23 UTC
(Dear OP, this has completely taken over my head. Help! What have you done to my brain? >.> Concrit is delicious like cake and will be thoroughly welcomed.)
The bar was warm, bright with strings of lights and frosted glass ornaments. Outside the window the relentless sleet (whose bright idea was it to have their meeting in Germany in February?) kept pelting down, the kind that wiggled in under your collar even if you wore a scarf and trickled down your back in damp little trails. Arthur did not want to go outside and re-soak his newly dry feet, so he stayed, smushed between Gilbert and Francis on a sticky bench in a noisy pub, with the beginnings of a headache fluttering around behind his eyes.
"Germany, I'm tired. Can we go home now?" Feliciano rubbed his cheek on Ludwig's shoulder, snuggling in under his arm.
“Ten minutes, okay?” Ludwig pulled Feliciano close against him, running one hand through his hair, and smiling at Gilbert over his head. Feliciano nodded against his chest.
Feliks rolled his eyes. “Oh, my god. You three are so married.”
“Oh, and you aren’t?” Francis countered from across the table. “Just because Toris is not actually here for you to molest - ”
“I do not so molest him!”
“You were groping him under the table all through Yao’s presentation,” said Ludwig dryly. Feliks at least had the decency to blush.
Arthur looked down at his hands. The sleet was starting to look like an increasingly attractive option. Something kept him, though, even when Gilbert and Francis started trying to one-up each other with lewd comments on Toris’ virtue as an increasingly flustered Feliks spluttered in protest.
“Angleterre, are you blushing? Awww, look, Gilbert. We’re making him squirm.”
“Bugger off,” said Alfred shortly, “just because some of us don’t drop trou for any warm body within a ten-mile radius - ”
“Fifteen-mile radius,” Francis protested, “I have a reputation to uphold.” Gilbert and Ludwig dissolved into laughter. Feliks, now that his beloved Toris was out of the line of fire, joined in, sputtering over a mouthful of beer and pointing shakily at Arthur as he dropped his head on the table in merriment.
Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to persuade himself it didn’t sting that he couldn’t join in. Sometimes he half-wished he’d taken Francis up on one of his drunken offers, sometime when he was so pissed they could both agree to forget it later, and it would just be done. It shouldn't "just be done," though. Yeah, well see where that's gotten you. He stood up, climbed backwards off the bench, and picked up his briefcase.
Feliciano grabbed his wrist. “It’s just for fun,” he said, huge brown eyes wide under his bangs. “You don’t have to go.”
Arthur looked at him, snuggled between the Germany brothers, and thought of them all lying asleep, limbs fallen over each other with a curl of red-brown hair poking out. Feliciano and his Teutonic knights. Arthur wished he didn’t envy him that safety to let go of his defenses for a few hours. He shook himself. “It’s all right. I’m tired anyway.” He managed a smile. “Have a good night.”
Feliciano nodded, and let go of Arthur, tangling his fingers with Gilbert’s. He smiled, face half-buried in Ludwig's shoulder. “Mmm, I will.”
Tea and Coffee, 2/?
anonymous
March 17 2010, 20:28:28 UTC
Francis' wolf-whistle faded into nothing as Arthur slammed the door of the bar shut behind him and hunched his shoulders against the icy rain spewing from the sky.
The lobby of the hotel was, if not warm, at least dry. Arthur stood in the elevator in a puddle of water dripping from his coat; he pulled his hands into his sleeves and seriously considered calling his fairies to curse Francis with some sort of hideous erectile malfunction. No, too obvious. Pity.
Arthur’s hotel room was cold. Damnit, why was everything cold, except for the bars, where people wouldn’t stop talking about all the sex they’d had and he hadn’t? He piled all the blankets from both beds onto one, and crawled under them, curling into a little ball and hugging his arms around his knees. Feliciano had grabbed him so casually, as if he weren't used to putting up barriers. The way Alfred touched people, but Alfred at least was too young to know better. Arthur had touched like that too, once. Then the Normans had invaded.
*
Arthur woke up at 6:47 the next morning and seriously considered pulling his head under the blankets, calling in sick, and going back to sleep. Instead, he wrenched himself out from his blanket-nest, let loose a stream of curses as he stumbled towards the shower, and emerged downstairs at 7:30 to have breakfast with a Alfred (red-eyed), Matthew (falling asleep over his pancakes), and Toris (jittering in place and compulsively checking his phone).
“Eduard never came back last night, and I don't know where he is, oh God." Toris flipped his phone open and shut, open and shut, drumming his fingers against the table.
"Dude." Feliks appeared from the buffet line, holding two plates of waffles. "He's his own person. I'm sure he's totally fine." Toris bit his lip and hovered. Feliks put down the plates and wrapped him up in a hug.
"M'worried," mumbled Toris, half-muffled in Feliks' shoulder. Arthur thought of Ivan, and the half-whispered rumors of what Toris had had to do to protect his brothers.
"I know, honey."
Arthur felt a spike of envy of Toris, who had someone to hold him like that - who could let himself be held like that, even after the invasions and the wars - and tamped down on it ruthlessly. It's your own fault, he reprimanded himself, your own fault for insisting that you wouldn't take anybody's charity, that you didn't need anyone to lean on. You built yourself an empire so you wouldn't ever be vulnerable, and even when it still existed it didn't work. And now...
"Arthur?" Alfred's hair was even scruffier than usual, his eyes still fuzzy (although rapidly clearing under the influence of his third cup of coffee), and he was wearing bunny slippers with googly eyes.
"Mm?"
"Are you -" he paused. "You look even grouchier than normal. What gives?"
"Nothing," Arthur snapped. He turned away, but Alfred grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. Arthur shrugged irritably, pushing him off, and pretended no to be disappointed when Alfred pulled back like he'd been burned.
"really? I - okay, but if you ever want to talk to someone, just. I'm here, okay?" His eyes were huge and earnest, his face open the way Arthur's couldn't be, not after so many wars and alliances and betrayals. Arthur had half a thought of just saying it, I'm a virgin and I don't know where to start, but then he thought of Alfred's eyes changing from caring to entertained and decided he'd rather keep his secrets.
He raised his eyebrows instead. "Been watching too many Lifetime movies lately, have we?"
Alfred rolled his eyes. "I look out for my friends," he said quietly. "You know that."
Re: Tea and Coffee, 2/?
anonymous
March 17 2010, 23:50:17 UTC
Oh, I like this fill. Your characterization is really damn good -- so good that, yeah, it makes virgin!England totally believable. His thoughts about it make sense and seem realistic, and I really like the fact that he equates physical intimacy (casual touching) with emotional intimacy and openness. And it seems really in-character that he knows that it's kind of his fault that he's not getting what he wants or needs (because he has to learn to reach across his own barriers, or stop reinforcing them and slapping others' hands away!), but he's also so damn pessimistic that he doesn't seem to think he could change himself.
Also, observant!Alfred makes me so happy! <3 The slippers are just icing on the cake. XP
You've got me curious now, anon; these two bits left me desperate to know more:
The way Alfred touched people, but Alfred at least was too young to know better. Arthur had touched like that too, once. Then the Normans had invaded.
&
You built yourself an empire so you wouldn't ever be vulnerable, and even when it still existed it didn't work. And now...
This is actually the random anon from above, but I did a double-take of happiness at that pairing ... er, threesome? They sure look that way to me too, anyway. I've never seen those three written together, but it kind of makes sense! :O
I'm glad you're pleased, OP! (and yes, it is Germany/Italy/Prussia. I have a whole backstory for them in my head and it keeps trying to take over the fill :/ Woe.)
Tea and Coffee, 3/?
anonymous
March 19 2010, 03:19:23 UTC
(Yay! I'm glad you guys liked the first bits. To the OP, yes the pairing is Gilbert/Ludwig/Feliciano.
Eduard showed up at 8:00 for the meeting, to a gasp of relief from Toris and Raivis, and admitted that he'd gone home with a girl and "hadn't thought to call." Toris looked almost ready to slap him, to Feliks' accompanying yelp of "he texted you, like, sixty billion times!".
"I worried," Toris said, softly, when Feliks was finished with his histrionics.
Eduard looked at the ground. "I'm sorry," he said. Toris shook his head and pulled Eduard in for a hug. Arthur tried to imagine himself forgiving anyone like that, and shuddered away from the thought: even imagining it made him feel too exposed.
"Ah, but don't be so hard on him. She must have been very beautiful," Francis cut in, with a wink at Eduard, and ducked out of the way, laughing, when Toris actually did try to slap him.
"They're so...casual about it," Alfred said, with a tiny frown. "Like, how much Toris cares about him and he worried all night and then - not that there's anything wrong with sex, but he could have texted at least."
"I wouldn't know" popped out of Arthur's mouth before he could stop it.
"You don't text?"
"I don't have casual sex." True, technically. Arthur was a great believer in the power of a well-placed lie of omission.
"Huh." Alfred turned away from where Francis was needling Eduard about the girl, and looked Arthur in the face. "That's cool, I guess. It's kind of romantic." He shrugged. "I have a pretty epic romantic streak. I blame Hollywood." Even when he was being self-deprecating, his eyes still shone with that well-intentioned intensity. Arthur tried to banish, a sudden and terrifying mental image of Alfred bending him back and kissing him like in the movies. He tried to pretend it wasn't making his heart race. Stop being ridiculous, he berated himself, your life is not Titanic.
*
And after that, Arthur saw Alfred everywhere. He took to bringing him a cup of coffee in the mornings, told himself it was just so that they could actually get something done - like it or not, not much could happen in the world without America awake and present. He told himself he was not getting to like Alfred's rueful, grateful grin when he pushed the little paper cup across the table every morning. After Alfred actually kissed his cheek in gratitude one day, he told himself - in no uncertain terms - that he was only imagining the tingly happy feeling in his stomach. None of it helped, but it made him feel better to try.
Tea and Coffee, 4/?
anonymous
March 19 2010, 03:20:47 UTC
*
For the month and a half after the world meeting ended, Arthur took to avoiding his phone altogether, to stop himself from picking it up and calling Alfred just to hear him go on about the movie he'd watched that week or how damn frustrated he was that he couldn't hash out any healthcare reform that he was even halfway satisfied with, or his latest NASA program, and how awesome it was.
The G8 meeting, however, could not be avoided so easily. He paid a fond farewell to decent tea and the metric system in Heathrow and disembarked in LaGuardia thoroughly discombobulated by the endless security lines and clamor of a thousand different voices and the headache-inducing task of converting everything from inches and feet and miles into measurements that actually made sense.
"Arthur!" Alfred's cowlick bobbed up and down over the heads of the crowd, until he finally made it through the crush. "Dude, awesome!" He grabbed one of Arthur's hands and started pulling him along. "I took the subway in - I hate fucking parking here and I figured you're British so you probably wouldn't mind." He had to yell over the crowd. Arthur felt like his ears were stuffed with cotton balls, all of the nerve endings in his body rushing to his left hand to feel the texture of Alfred's calluses and the bite of his fingernails into Arthur's wrist. He pulled his hand free - don't touch me like that. Alfred stopped, abruptly, and Arthur nearly banged into him. "You don't mind, right?"
"right - I. No, I don't mind, just can we go somewhere quiet?"
Alfred laughed, and beckoned him forward this time, instead of pulling on his hand. This is what you want. This is what you have to want, and Arthur sat back on the orange subway seat to listen to Alfred's complaints about his Congress.
"You weren't listening to anything I just said, were you?" Alfred said as they disembarked. He stopped by the subway tracks to buy a bottle of Coke, and passed it to Arthur first. Arthur had been, actually, but he wasn't about to let on.
"Well, as I said, if you would just have a Parliament like the rest of us this wouldn't happen to you," said Arthur, taking a mouthful of Coke and passing it back. It fizzed against the roof of his mouth, like it too was channeling Alfred's boundless energy. He swallowed as they emerged out into the early-spring sun, and Alfred set off in the direction of the hotel.
"Yeah, yeah." Alfred stopped abruptly and sighed. "Sometimes I wish I didn't care so much, or that I could turn it off, y'know? Like, I'm up at four in the morning reading about the benefits and drawbacks of the Beveridge system and I'm so tired but if I go to bed I'll just lie awake thinking about it anyway, and I just want some fucking sleep sometimes." He shrugged, strangely vulnerable in the midst of his largest city, the great triumph of American industry. "I guess that's just what you gotta do."
"I think it's noble," and he couldn't believe he was actually saying this. "That you care so much, I mean. Sometimes, I think - I think we can loose sight of that."
Alfred's lips twitched up in a wry smile, and he started walking again. "Awww, Arthur, did you just actually pay me a compliment?"
"Don't get used to it." They shared a smile, and Arthur felt something in his stomach shiver.
Tea and Coffee, 5/?
anonymous
March 19 2010, 03:23:12 UTC
(OMG five parts and they haven't even kissed yet >.> Dear Arthur's angst, please stop eating my brain.)
*
Day One of the G8 meeting opened with a new level of grouchiness from Ludwig, who had apparently fought with Gilbert over the phone the night before. Feliciano was subdued, barely looking up from his papers. He looked like he'd been up all night.
Feliciano was downstairs already when Arthur wandered down for his lunch break. He patted the suspiciously Ludwig-less seat across from him, and Arthur obediently sat.
"Ludwig's on the phone with Gilbert," he said, to Arthur's raised eyebrows. "I told them to make up or I would strangle them with pasta." Arthur laughed, and remembered how easily Feliciano had touched him in the bar in Berlin.
"Can I ask you advice on something?"
"Of course."
"If - if you were expected to know how to do something, and everyone just assumed you did, but really you had no idea and you'd just been pretending, how would you go about admitting it when you couldn't pretend anymore?"
Feliciano smiled. "Is this about Alfred?"
"How the hell did you know?"
"It's really pretty obvious." His eyes were soft. "Arthur, Alfred isn't cruel. I'm sure you could just tell him."
"I - really, I couldn't."
"It's scary, isn't it. To admit when you're weak. It's easier just to prickle at people."
Arthur looked down at the table. He wanted to run away but he couldn't make himself move.
"You're so good at prickling but I think I makes you lonely." Arthur nodded, eyes still fixed downwards. "Mmm. So now you have to be strong enough to admit that sometimes you aren't."
"Ah - " Arthur cleared his throat. "I never thought to think of it like that."
"Most people haven't." Arthur saw Ludwig approaching behind Feliciano, pausing to lean over his back and rub at his shoulders. "That's why we three work so well together, no?" Feliciano continued to his lover, "Because we're strong in different ways."
"Mmm."
"You two made up?"
"Ja. I was being an idiot."
"So was Gilbert," Feliciano answered, and reached up to take Ludwig's hand over his shoulder. He smiled at Arthur confidentially. "They're both unfortunately prone."
Arthur excused himself and headed outdoors, wandering aimlessly wherever his feet took him. Alfred, with his endless optimism and his stupid hero complex, a Nation who loved his country and his people and only wanted the best for everyone, even if he sometimes went about it wrong. He knew how much Alfred could hurt him; he still remembered the nights spent drinking himself senseless after the revolution, alone in his empty house and sick with loss. And then he remembered Alfred's face flickering in the light of a bomb shelter during the Blitz; even when Arthur had snatched himself back from every touch Alfred had stayed, singing old lullabies, songs Arthur had never expected him to remember, to drown out the planes overhead.
Could he be vulnerable for Alfred? Or rather, could he admit that he already was?
He took a shaky breath, trying to settle the possibility in his mind. Strong enough. He ran one hand through his hair, trying to convince himself. He could be strong enough for this.
But one day in present, when he hangs out with friends in Europe, he realizes that almost everyone is talking about relationships and sex and stuff. To make things worse, it seems almost everybody is involved including the one who has pursued him before and Prussia! He suddenly feels very very lonely and shameful for his virginity.
I’d like the story goes from here. England is trying to find someone but he is still shy and does not know what to do. He wants to get rid of his virginity but he also wants to lose his virginity to someone he really loves.
How it ends is up to anon, though if you can make it US/UK, I will love you forever!
Bonus 1: At the same time, England feels uncertain about his future as well (e.g. economic downturn), which makes him want someone by his side even more.
Bonus 2: When hanging out with his friends, he pretends laughing or being disinterested in the topic about relationship though he does care.
Bonus 3: One of his friends (not France please) tries to give advice to him to help him (like changing the dressing style) though he does not know that England is now feeling lonely.
Bonus 4: When he actually goes out with someone, he tries to hide the fact that he is a virgin and it is his first date because he is afraid that he will be dumped if the other finds out.
Oh, and if you want to involve America in this, plz either make him no paring at all or pair him with England.
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Glad that you want to fill it, op is sooooooooo happy right now =3
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The bar was warm, bright with strings of lights and frosted glass ornaments. Outside the window the relentless sleet (whose bright idea was it to have their meeting in Germany in February?) kept pelting down, the kind that wiggled in under your collar even if you wore a scarf and trickled down your back in damp little trails. Arthur did not want to go outside and re-soak his newly dry feet, so he stayed, smushed between Gilbert and Francis on a sticky bench in a noisy pub, with the beginnings of a headache fluttering around behind his eyes.
"Germany, I'm tired. Can we go home now?" Feliciano rubbed his cheek on Ludwig's shoulder, snuggling in under his arm.
“Ten minutes, okay?” Ludwig pulled Feliciano close against him, running one hand through his hair, and smiling at Gilbert over his head. Feliciano nodded against his chest.
Feliks rolled his eyes. “Oh, my god. You three are so married.”
“Oh, and you aren’t?” Francis countered from across the table. “Just because Toris is not actually here for you to molest - ”
“I do not so molest him!”
“You were groping him under the table all through Yao’s presentation,” said Ludwig dryly. Feliks at least had the decency to blush.
Arthur looked down at his hands. The sleet was starting to look like an increasingly attractive option. Something kept him, though, even when Gilbert and Francis started trying to one-up each other with lewd comments on Toris’ virtue as an increasingly flustered Feliks spluttered in protest.
“Angleterre, are you blushing? Awww, look, Gilbert. We’re making him squirm.”
“Victorian repression,” sighed Gilbert, feigning distress.
“Tragique,” Francis agreed, and pouted.
“Bugger off,” said Alfred shortly, “just because some of us don’t drop trou for any warm body within a ten-mile radius - ”
“Fifteen-mile radius,” Francis protested, “I have a reputation to uphold.” Gilbert and Ludwig dissolved into laughter. Feliks, now that his beloved Toris was out of the line of fire, joined in, sputtering over a mouthful of beer and pointing shakily at Arthur as he dropped his head on the table in merriment.
Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to persuade himself it didn’t sting that he couldn’t join in. Sometimes he half-wished he’d taken Francis up on one of his drunken offers, sometime when he was so pissed they could both agree to forget it later, and it would just be done. It shouldn't "just be done," though. Yeah, well see where that's gotten you. He stood up, climbed backwards off the bench, and picked up his briefcase.
Feliciano grabbed his wrist. “It’s just for fun,” he said, huge brown eyes wide under his bangs. “You don’t have to go.”
Arthur looked at him, snuggled between the Germany brothers, and thought of them all lying asleep, limbs fallen over each other with a curl of red-brown hair poking out. Feliciano and his Teutonic knights. Arthur wished he didn’t envy him that safety to let go of his defenses for a few hours. He shook himself. “It’s all right. I’m tired anyway.” He managed a smile. “Have a good night.”
Feliciano nodded, and let go of Arthur, tangling his fingers with Gilbert’s. He smiled, face half-buried in Ludwig's shoulder. “Mmm, I will.”
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The lobby of the hotel was, if not warm, at least dry. Arthur stood in the elevator in a puddle of water dripping from his coat; he pulled his hands into his sleeves and seriously considered calling his fairies to curse Francis with some sort of hideous erectile malfunction. No, too obvious. Pity.
Arthur’s hotel room was cold. Damnit, why was everything cold, except for the bars, where people wouldn’t stop talking about all the sex they’d had and he hadn’t? He piled all the blankets from both beds onto one, and crawled under them, curling into a little ball and hugging his arms around his knees. Feliciano had grabbed him so casually, as if he weren't used to putting up barriers. The way Alfred touched people, but Alfred at least was too young to know better. Arthur had touched like that too, once. Then the Normans had invaded.
*
Arthur woke up at 6:47 the next morning and seriously considered pulling his head under the blankets, calling in sick, and going back to sleep. Instead, he wrenched himself out from his blanket-nest, let loose a stream of curses as he stumbled towards the shower, and emerged downstairs at 7:30 to have breakfast with a Alfred (red-eyed), Matthew (falling asleep over his pancakes), and Toris (jittering in place and compulsively checking his phone).
“Eduard never came back last night, and I don't know where he is, oh God." Toris flipped his phone open and shut, open and shut, drumming his fingers against the table.
"Dude." Feliks appeared from the buffet line, holding two plates of waffles. "He's his own person. I'm sure he's totally fine." Toris bit his lip and hovered. Feliks put down the plates and wrapped him up in a hug.
"M'worried," mumbled Toris, half-muffled in Feliks' shoulder. Arthur thought of Ivan, and the half-whispered rumors of what Toris had had to do to protect his brothers.
"I know, honey."
Arthur felt a spike of envy of Toris, who had someone to hold him like that - who could let himself be held like that, even after the invasions and the wars - and tamped down on it ruthlessly. It's your own fault, he reprimanded himself, your own fault for insisting that you wouldn't take anybody's charity, that you didn't need anyone to lean on. You built yourself an empire so you wouldn't ever be vulnerable, and even when it still existed it didn't work. And now...
"Arthur?" Alfred's hair was even scruffier than usual, his eyes still fuzzy (although rapidly clearing under the influence of his third cup of coffee), and he was wearing bunny slippers with googly eyes.
"Mm?"
"Are you -" he paused. "You look even grouchier than normal. What gives?"
"Nothing," Arthur snapped. He turned away, but Alfred grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. Arthur shrugged irritably, pushing him off, and pretended no to be disappointed when Alfred pulled back like he'd been burned.
"really? I - okay, but if you ever want to talk to someone, just. I'm here, okay?" His eyes were huge and earnest, his face open the way Arthur's couldn't be, not after so many wars and alliances and betrayals. Arthur had half a thought of just saying it, I'm a virgin and I don't know where to start, but then he thought of Alfred's eyes changing from caring to entertained and decided he'd rather keep his secrets.
He raised his eyebrows instead. "Been watching too many Lifetime movies lately, have we?"
Alfred rolled his eyes. "I look out for my friends," he said quietly. "You know that."
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Also, observant!Alfred makes me so happy! <3 The slippers are just icing on the cake. XP
You've got me curious now, anon; these two bits left me desperate to know more:
The way Alfred touched people, but Alfred at least was too young to know better. Arthur had touched like that too, once. Then the Normans had invaded.
&
You built yourself an empire so you wouldn't ever be vulnerable, and even when it still existed it didn't work. And now...
This is a very cool fill. :)
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I really believe that Arthur is a virgin. The explanation is persuasive and at the same time, those behaviors are just so, well, Arthur.
Just curious, the pairing for Prussia, is it Germany/North Italy/Prussia?
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Eduard showed up at 8:00 for the meeting, to a gasp of relief from Toris and Raivis, and admitted that he'd gone home with a girl and "hadn't thought to call." Toris looked almost ready to slap him, to Feliks' accompanying yelp of "he texted you, like, sixty billion times!".
"I worried," Toris said, softly, when Feliks was finished with his histrionics.
Eduard looked at the ground. "I'm sorry," he said. Toris shook his head and pulled Eduard in for a hug. Arthur tried to imagine himself forgiving anyone like that, and shuddered away from the thought: even imagining it made him feel too exposed.
"Ah, but don't be so hard on him. She must have been very beautiful," Francis cut in, with a wink at Eduard, and ducked out of the way, laughing, when Toris actually did try to slap him.
"They're so...casual about it," Alfred said, with a tiny frown. "Like, how much Toris cares about him and he worried all night and then - not that there's anything wrong with sex, but he could have texted at least."
"I wouldn't know" popped out of Arthur's mouth before he could stop it.
"You don't text?"
"I don't have casual sex." True, technically. Arthur was a great believer in the power of a well-placed lie of omission.
"Huh." Alfred turned away from where Francis was needling Eduard about the girl, and looked Arthur in the face. "That's cool, I guess. It's kind of romantic." He shrugged. "I have a pretty epic romantic streak. I blame Hollywood." Even when he was being self-deprecating, his eyes still shone with that well-intentioned intensity. Arthur tried to banish, a sudden and terrifying mental image of Alfred bending him back and kissing him like in the movies. He tried to pretend it wasn't making his heart race. Stop being ridiculous, he berated himself, your life is not Titanic.
*
And after that, Arthur saw Alfred everywhere. He took to bringing him a cup of coffee in the mornings, told himself it was just so that they could actually get something done - like it or not, not much could happen in the world without America awake and present. He told himself he was not getting to like Alfred's rueful, grateful grin when he pushed the little paper cup across the table every morning. After Alfred actually kissed his cheek in gratitude one day, he told himself - in no uncertain terms - that he was only imagining the tingly happy feeling in his stomach. None of it helped, but it made him feel better to try.
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For the month and a half after the world meeting ended, Arthur took to avoiding his phone altogether, to stop himself from picking it up and calling Alfred just to hear him go on about the movie he'd watched that week or how damn frustrated he was that he couldn't hash out any healthcare reform that he was even halfway satisfied with, or his latest NASA program, and how awesome it was.
The G8 meeting, however, could not be avoided so easily. He paid a fond farewell to decent tea and the metric system in Heathrow and disembarked in LaGuardia thoroughly discombobulated by the endless security lines and clamor of a thousand different voices and the headache-inducing task of converting everything from inches and feet and miles into measurements that actually made sense.
"Arthur!" Alfred's cowlick bobbed up and down over the heads of the crowd, until he finally made it through the crush. "Dude, awesome!" He grabbed one of Arthur's hands and started pulling him along. "I took the subway in - I hate fucking parking here and I figured you're British so you probably wouldn't mind." He had to yell over the crowd. Arthur felt like his ears were stuffed with cotton balls, all of the nerve endings in his body rushing to his left hand to feel the texture of Alfred's calluses and the bite of his fingernails into Arthur's wrist. He pulled his hand free - don't touch me like that. Alfred stopped, abruptly, and Arthur nearly banged into him. "You don't mind, right?"
"right - I. No, I don't mind, just can we go somewhere quiet?"
Alfred laughed, and beckoned him forward this time, instead of pulling on his hand. This is what you want. This is what you have to want, and Arthur sat back on the orange subway seat to listen to Alfred's complaints about his Congress.
"You weren't listening to anything I just said, were you?" Alfred said as they disembarked. He stopped by the subway tracks to buy a bottle of Coke, and passed it to Arthur first. Arthur had been, actually, but he wasn't about to let on.
"Well, as I said, if you would just have a Parliament like the rest of us this wouldn't happen to you," said Arthur, taking a mouthful of Coke and passing it back. It fizzed against the roof of his mouth, like it too was channeling Alfred's boundless energy. He swallowed as they emerged out into the early-spring sun, and Alfred set off in the direction of the hotel.
"Yeah, yeah." Alfred stopped abruptly and sighed. "Sometimes I wish I didn't care so much, or that I could turn it off, y'know? Like, I'm up at four in the morning reading about the benefits and drawbacks of the Beveridge system and I'm so tired but if I go to bed I'll just lie awake thinking about it anyway, and I just want some fucking sleep sometimes." He shrugged, strangely vulnerable in the midst of his largest city, the great triumph of American industry. "I guess that's just what you gotta do."
"I think it's noble," and he couldn't believe he was actually saying this. "That you care so much, I mean. Sometimes, I think - I think we can loose sight of that."
Alfred's lips twitched up in a wry smile, and he started walking again. "Awww, Arthur, did you just actually pay me a compliment?"
"Don't get used to it." They shared a smile, and Arthur felt something in his stomach shiver.
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*
Day One of the G8 meeting opened with a new level of grouchiness from Ludwig, who had apparently fought with Gilbert over the phone the night before. Feliciano was subdued, barely looking up from his papers. He looked like he'd been up all night.
Feliciano was downstairs already when Arthur wandered down for his lunch break. He patted the suspiciously Ludwig-less seat across from him, and Arthur obediently sat.
"Ludwig's on the phone with Gilbert," he said, to Arthur's raised eyebrows. "I told them to make up or I would strangle them with pasta." Arthur laughed, and remembered how easily Feliciano had touched him in the bar in Berlin.
"Can I ask you advice on something?"
"Of course."
"If - if you were expected to know how to do something, and everyone just assumed you did, but really you had no idea and you'd just been pretending, how would you go about admitting it when you couldn't pretend anymore?"
Feliciano smiled. "Is this about Alfred?"
"How the hell did you know?"
"It's really pretty obvious." His eyes were soft. "Arthur, Alfred isn't cruel. I'm sure you could just tell him."
"I - really, I couldn't."
"It's scary, isn't it. To admit when you're weak. It's easier just to prickle at people."
Arthur looked down at the table. He wanted to run away but he couldn't make himself move.
"You're so good at prickling but I think I makes you lonely." Arthur nodded, eyes still fixed downwards. "Mmm. So now you have to be strong enough to admit that sometimes you aren't."
"Ah - " Arthur cleared his throat. "I never thought to think of it like that."
"Most people haven't." Arthur saw Ludwig approaching behind Feliciano, pausing to lean over his back and rub at his shoulders. "That's why we three work so well together, no?" Feliciano continued to his lover, "Because we're strong in different ways."
"Mmm."
"You two made up?"
"Ja. I was being an idiot."
"So was Gilbert," Feliciano answered, and reached up to take Ludwig's hand over his shoulder. He smiled at Arthur confidentially. "They're both unfortunately prone."
Arthur excused himself and headed outdoors, wandering aimlessly wherever his feet took him. Alfred, with his endless optimism and his stupid hero complex, a Nation who loved his country and his people and only wanted the best for everyone, even if he sometimes went about it wrong. He knew how much Alfred could hurt him; he still remembered the nights spent drinking himself senseless after the revolution, alone in his empty house and sick with loss. And then he remembered Alfred's face flickering in the light of a bomb shelter during the Blitz; even when Arthur had snatched himself back from every touch Alfred had stayed, singing old lullabies, songs Arthur had never expected him to remember, to drown out the planes overhead.
Could he be vulnerable for Alfred? Or rather, could he admit that he already was?
He took a shaky breath, trying to settle the possibility in his mind. Strong enough. He ran one hand through his hair, trying to convince himself. He could be strong enough for this.
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The emotion is all there and it's neither too much nor too little.
Actually I think it is reasonable that they have not kissed yet since I believe Arthur will be nervous for that
And the pairing for Prussia, that is so new X3
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