[fic] Untitled
Title: Untitled
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: USUK
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 1,197
Warning: N/A
Notes: I wrote this as a thank-you to Gabbi, since she agreed to help beta my big bang. (If you want, you're more than welcome to help her out...! /passive-aggressive hinting)
Summary: Alfred, 6th Year Gryffindor, has burned his arm. Arthur, 6th Year Slytherin and Alfred's boyfriend, has to fix it.
☽✩☾
The bin before him is without a doubt the most magnificent bin of candy that Alfred has ever laid eyes on. There are candies of every color, all wrapped up and delicious-looking as they lay amongst each other. Yeah, it's probably awesome enough to be considered the Best Day Ever, and it's only going to get better when he dunks his hand in deep to partake of the bin's offering.
But something twinges on his arm, and it kind of burns-kind of like that uncomfortable heat after a particularly rough pinch from his brother. (And don't let Mattie's shy smile and soft voice fool you.) He ignores it as he grabs the candy, but it happens again as he brings his hand up, and it makes him drop the sugary sweets. That burn is getting warmer, and it's borderline hot. No, not borderline. It's just hot.
Really hot. In fact, it's really kind of super uncomfortably hot. Injuriously burn-your-skin hot. Alfred looks down to his arm, where the heat is, and he doesn't see anything. Nothing that would cause that heat-any heat. He pulls up his sleeves, and his arm looks just fine. There's no burn, so what's going on?
As he turns to move, he accidentally steps on a round candy, and he falls-
-And wakes up at his table in the potions dungeon, his sleeve undeniably on fire.
"What the hell-!"
Alfred's eyes shoot open wide, his stool flies back as he hurriedly stands, and as he flaps his arm around, he doesn't notice many of the students at the surrounding tables step back. What he does notice is that his partner, Braginski, is just sitting there with a grin on his face and letting Alfred prance around looking like a fool. What's the spell to put out fires? Is there a spell? Alfred would really, really like to know because the fire is not going away and it's burning his sleeves and skin and fucking ow. He's just about to throw his arm into the potion he and Braginski are supposed to be making, but something else happens after a shout of, "Aguamenti!" and that something is Alfred being completely drenched, and dripping wet with water.
Alfred's hair is in his face, and his glasses do him absolutely no help at the moment. His clothing is uncomfortably clingy, and he's pretty flippin' cold. The room is silent, and he spits out some water as he wipes his hair back from his face. Someone's stepping up in front of him, not that he can tell whom, and they take his glasses to wipe them free of water droplets and set them back in their spot. Arthur's there, with a pretty sheepish look staring up at Alfred.
"You were on fire," he says simply.
"Yeah, I got that," Alfred replies in turn. Then he spins to confront Braginski, scowl in place. "What I wanna know is why the idiot I got paired with didn't help me out when he noticed!" Alfred wants to cross his arms, but … it's really uncomfortable due to his robes' saturation, and his arm is starting to hurt again. Bad.
Braginski shrugs, and he still has that damned smile in place. "You were sleeping so peacefully! Why would I interrupt your nap?"
"I was on fire!"
"It was nothing bad! It is your fault, anyway. Your arm was too close to the cauldron's fire."
"You couldn't'a woke me up-?!"
"Woken," Arthur interjects from the side. "Past … perfect tense." Alfred ignores him after he gives the ceiling a brief glance.
This time Braginski says nothing. He's still just smiling as Alfred continues to glower at him and he's really tempted to just throw a body-binding jinx at him, but Gryffindor can't afford to lose any more points. Though it does become more tempting once Arthur announces Slytherin's fifteen-point deduction. "But five from Gryffindor," he adds on with a leer to Alfred. "You shouldn't be falling asleep while making a potion," he says.
Alfred's too busy sticking his tongue out at Braginski to immediately recognize when he's being tugged away from the dungeon and down the hall to sit at a bench, even though his shoes squelch loudly with each step. It takes a to realize that Arthur's pulled back Alfred's ruined, and suddenly dry, sleeves (speaking of which, more 'ow'), and is inspecting the burn.
"You're an idiot, you are aware of this?"
Not exactly the first thing Alfred's expecting to hear from his boyfriend. He yanks his arm back to Arthur's startled expression. It hurts a lot, but he ignores it as he tries to glare at Arthur. "I fell asleep. That doesn't mean I'm stupid. That means I'm sleep-deprived." He runs a hand through his hair-that's dry now, too.
"I never said falling asleep made you stupid!" Arthur spats. "But falling asleep with your arm right next to a fire? Now that's stupid! Not your best move." He pauses, then grins. "Not your worst, though, I'll give you that. I've seen some beauties on the pitch."
Alfred feels his face heat up, and heat is becoming something he's really beginning to not like. "Lemme alone," he pouts, but he doesn't put up any struggle when Arthur grabs his arm again. His hands are careful and gentle; they're almost soothing to Alfred's burn on their own. It's kinda nice to feel his fingers poking around where it doesn't hurt. (Too much, anyway.)
"A simple healing charm should work, it doesn't look terribly bad."
"It's always the small ones that hurt the most, huh?"
Arthur draws out his wand, and with a short but graceful flourish accompanied by a mutter of, "Episky," there's a soft glow that lightens the green of Arthur's eyes. It's brief, maybe too brief, but the color is ethereal and makes Alfred grin. Not for long, because it breaks into a smile when the true shade of green returns. Though he's not a huge fan of Slytherin himself, Alfred's gotta admit that the green in Arthur's robes does a magnificent job complementing his eyes.
"-Fixed! Good as new, I'd-say…. Alfred? What?"
Alfred shakes his head. "Nothin'. Thanks." He grins at Arthur, and kisses the back of his hand. Arthur fumbles a bit, sounds popping out as he tries to think of what to say.
"Don't thank me," he says. "It's just a responsibility-a duty!-I have as Prefect, to make sure the students are in good health!"
"…Arthur, shut up, I could have gone to the hospital wing." Alfred rolls his eyes. Sometimes…. Then a thought hits him. "When's the next Hogsmeade trip?"
"Er, next weekend, I believe. Why?"
"I was dreaming I was at Honeyduke's when my arm caught fire."
Arthur slowly closes his eyes, shaking his head and walking back to class. "Sometimes, Alfred, you astound me."
"I am pretty amazing, I can't blame you." He smiles wide, and swears he sees a hint of a grin try to peek out from Arthur's lips. Arthur grabs Alfred's sleeve, and shoves him into class, telling Alfred to show him just how amazing he is by fixing his potion.
--
END
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: USUK
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 1,197
Warning: N/A
Notes: I wrote this as a thank-you to Gabbi, since she agreed to help beta my big bang. (If you want, you're more than welcome to help her out...! /passive-aggressive hinting)
Summary: Alfred, 6th Year Gryffindor, has burned his arm. Arthur, 6th Year Slytherin and Alfred's boyfriend, has to fix it.
☽✩☾
The bin before him is without a doubt the most magnificent bin of candy that Alfred has ever laid eyes on. There are candies of every color, all wrapped up and delicious-looking as they lay amongst each other. Yeah, it's probably awesome enough to be considered the Best Day Ever, and it's only going to get better when he dunks his hand in deep to partake of the bin's offering.
But something twinges on his arm, and it kind of burns-kind of like that uncomfortable heat after a particularly rough pinch from his brother. (And don't let Mattie's shy smile and soft voice fool you.) He ignores it as he grabs the candy, but it happens again as he brings his hand up, and it makes him drop the sugary sweets. That burn is getting warmer, and it's borderline hot. No, not borderline. It's just hot.
Really hot. In fact, it's really kind of super uncomfortably hot. Injuriously burn-your-skin hot. Alfred looks down to his arm, where the heat is, and he doesn't see anything. Nothing that would cause that heat-any heat. He pulls up his sleeves, and his arm looks just fine. There's no burn, so what's going on?
As he turns to move, he accidentally steps on a round candy, and he falls-
-And wakes up at his table in the potions dungeon, his sleeve undeniably on fire.
"What the hell-!"
Alfred's eyes shoot open wide, his stool flies back as he hurriedly stands, and as he flaps his arm around, he doesn't notice many of the students at the surrounding tables step back. What he does notice is that his partner, Braginski, is just sitting there with a grin on his face and letting Alfred prance around looking like a fool. What's the spell to put out fires? Is there a spell? Alfred would really, really like to know because the fire is not going away and it's burning his sleeves and skin and fucking ow. He's just about to throw his arm into the potion he and Braginski are supposed to be making, but something else happens after a shout of, "Aguamenti!" and that something is Alfred being completely drenched, and dripping wet with water.
Alfred's hair is in his face, and his glasses do him absolutely no help at the moment. His clothing is uncomfortably clingy, and he's pretty flippin' cold. The room is silent, and he spits out some water as he wipes his hair back from his face. Someone's stepping up in front of him, not that he can tell whom, and they take his glasses to wipe them free of water droplets and set them back in their spot. Arthur's there, with a pretty sheepish look staring up at Alfred.
"You were on fire," he says simply.
"Yeah, I got that," Alfred replies in turn. Then he spins to confront Braginski, scowl in place. "What I wanna know is why the idiot I got paired with didn't help me out when he noticed!" Alfred wants to cross his arms, but … it's really uncomfortable due to his robes' saturation, and his arm is starting to hurt again. Bad.
Braginski shrugs, and he still has that damned smile in place. "You were sleeping so peacefully! Why would I interrupt your nap?"
"I was on fire!"
"It was nothing bad! It is your fault, anyway. Your arm was too close to the cauldron's fire."
"You couldn't'a woke me up-?!"
"Woken," Arthur interjects from the side. "Past … perfect tense." Alfred ignores him after he gives the ceiling a brief glance.
This time Braginski says nothing. He's still just smiling as Alfred continues to glower at him and he's really tempted to just throw a body-binding jinx at him, but Gryffindor can't afford to lose any more points. Though it does become more tempting once Arthur announces Slytherin's fifteen-point deduction. "But five from Gryffindor," he adds on with a leer to Alfred. "You shouldn't be falling asleep while making a potion," he says.
Alfred's too busy sticking his tongue out at Braginski to immediately recognize when he's being tugged away from the dungeon and down the hall to sit at a bench, even though his shoes squelch loudly with each step. It takes a to realize that Arthur's pulled back Alfred's ruined, and suddenly dry, sleeves (speaking of which, more 'ow'), and is inspecting the burn.
"You're an idiot, you are aware of this?"
Not exactly the first thing Alfred's expecting to hear from his boyfriend. He yanks his arm back to Arthur's startled expression. It hurts a lot, but he ignores it as he tries to glare at Arthur. "I fell asleep. That doesn't mean I'm stupid. That means I'm sleep-deprived." He runs a hand through his hair-that's dry now, too.
"I never said falling asleep made you stupid!" Arthur spats. "But falling asleep with your arm right next to a fire? Now that's stupid! Not your best move." He pauses, then grins. "Not your worst, though, I'll give you that. I've seen some beauties on the pitch."
Alfred feels his face heat up, and heat is becoming something he's really beginning to not like. "Lemme alone," he pouts, but he doesn't put up any struggle when Arthur grabs his arm again. His hands are careful and gentle; they're almost soothing to Alfred's burn on their own. It's kinda nice to feel his fingers poking around where it doesn't hurt. (Too much, anyway.)
"A simple healing charm should work, it doesn't look terribly bad."
"It's always the small ones that hurt the most, huh?"
Arthur draws out his wand, and with a short but graceful flourish accompanied by a mutter of, "Episky," there's a soft glow that lightens the green of Arthur's eyes. It's brief, maybe too brief, but the color is ethereal and makes Alfred grin. Not for long, because it breaks into a smile when the true shade of green returns. Though he's not a huge fan of Slytherin himself, Alfred's gotta admit that the green in Arthur's robes does a magnificent job complementing his eyes.
"-Fixed! Good as new, I'd-say…. Alfred? What?"
Alfred shakes his head. "Nothin'. Thanks." He grins at Arthur, and kisses the back of his hand. Arthur fumbles a bit, sounds popping out as he tries to think of what to say.
"Don't thank me," he says. "It's just a responsibility-a duty!-I have as Prefect, to make sure the students are in good health!"
"…Arthur, shut up, I could have gone to the hospital wing." Alfred rolls his eyes. Sometimes…. Then a thought hits him. "When's the next Hogsmeade trip?"
"Er, next weekend, I believe. Why?"
"I was dreaming I was at Honeyduke's when my arm caught fire."
Arthur slowly closes his eyes, shaking his head and walking back to class. "Sometimes, Alfred, you astound me."
"I am pretty amazing, I can't blame you." He smiles wide, and swears he sees a hint of a grin try to peek out from Arthur's lips. Arthur grabs Alfred's sleeve, and shoves him into class, telling Alfred to show him just how amazing he is by fixing his potion.
--
END