[fanfic - fanworkathon] The End (As Told In Five Parts)

Jun 07, 2011 00:47

Title: The End (As Told In Five Parts)
Genre: Humour/Romance
Pairing(s): USUK
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, overly-casual mentions of WWII from the POV of two very drunk non-humans, Apocalypses.
Summary: An angel and the serpent that caused the Fall from Eden, a few thousand years and an Apocalypse. Also, ducks. It all adds up quite nicely.
Prompt: A crossover with Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, with Alfred as Crowley and Arthur as Aziraphale.It asked for a oneshot, or a Hetalia-fication of the whole plot. I went for a few oneshots that were a Hetalia-fication of the plot.


---

IN THE BEGINNING:

It was a nice day.

All the days had been nice, in fact. Though, as the angel of the Eastern Gate peered at the sky, where angry black clouds were beginning to gather, it looked like the earth was about to experience its first rainfall.

“Looks like rain.” The angel, whose name was Arthur, slanted his gaze towards the demon beside him, but said nothing. “Good for the plants,” he continued conversationally.

“Yes,” said Arthur, curtly. “Why are you here?”

The demon shrugged, in a slithery kind of way. “Thought I’d say hi. Name’s Alfrog. You’re Arthur, aren’t you?”

Arthur nodded. “Alfrog? So you’re the one who had poor Eve eat that apple.”

“It wasn’t an apple-” began Alfrog.

“It looked like an apple-”

“-Fruit of Knowledge,” said Alfrog, stubbornly. “And He was practically asking for it! There’s gotta be a better way to keep a bunch of newborn, curious people from eating the forbidden fruit than to put the tree smack-bang in the middle of the garden. He even went and told them not to touch it. Of course they wouldn’t listen!”

“It was the principle of the matter!”

“I was just doing my job!” protested Alfrog. “They said, get up there and tempt some things, so I did.” He looked uncomfortable, however. His blue eyes - unusual for a demon - didn’t meet Arthur’s.

“Yes, well,” Arthur cleared his throat. “Because of your ‘job’, we’re getting this wretched weather.”

“I-”

“And you’ve probably set up a stigma about women being inferior for the next 2000 years, at least.” He paused. “I hope you’re happy.”

“How does that even -”

At that moment, the clouds opened up and began to drench the two in rain. Arthur, raising his wings to shield himself from the drops, chose that moment to look at Alfrog. The demon’s blond hair - also unusual for a demon - was plastered messily to his troubled face. He didn’t even bother to raise his wings in the way Arthur did, nor did he try to push the blond strands away from his eyes. It was something like the look of a kicked puppy, not that anyone had been kicking puppies long enough for that to be known.

Either way, it was a horrible look for a demon.

Arthur sighed. “…it was probably all a part of His plans, anyway.”

“You think?” said Alfrog.

“He never does anything for no reason.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” Alfrog looked slightly hopeful. “I reckon it’s all part of some huge mind screw or something. He probably watched me go up to Eve and went, ‘Yep, just as planned.’”

The angel bristled. “He does not screw with minds.” The demon shot him a deadpan look. “He’s just ineffable.”

“…wow, I wouldn’t go that far. I mean, I’m sure someone - maybe Lucifer -”

“Not like that!” snapped Arthur. His wings shuddered. “Ineffable. As in, He’s indescribable.”

“Oh.” Alfrog considered this. “Sounds about right.” He pushed his sodden hair away from his eyes. “Say, didn’t you have a sword?” He asked, suddenly.

Arthur suddenly became very interested in the sky.

“Yeah, you did! It was this great big flaming one!”

“It’s none of your bloo - none of your business!” Arthur huffed.

“You lost it, didn’t you?”

“I did no such-” Arthur stopped, seeing the demon’s smug grin. “Oh very well. I gave it to them. The poor things looked so frightened, seeing as someone,” he shot a glare at Alfrog, “tricked them into getting kicked out into the cold.”

“It’s too bad. Would’ve liked to see it,” Alfrog said wistfully. “Kinda heroic of you to do that. The big guy won’t be happy.”

Arthur coloured, slightly. “Well, what He doesn’t know won’t hurt Him,” he muttered. For some reason, Alfrog looked delighted to hear this.

“Hah, I knew you were pretty cool. I reckon we’ll be seeing a lot of each other for a while,” he said.

“Heaven forbid.”

“Anyway,” he continued, ignoring Arthur. “I reckon I’m going to find myself a new name. Alfrog is so not me. Too creepy, y’know?”

“You’re a demon.”

“Yeah, but I might as well be a demon with an awesome name.” He pulled a face. “Not like Alfrog. What was I thinking?” The demon continued to chatter, but Arthur ignored him, turning towards his own thoughts instead. What a strange, strange demon.

--

NOT QUITE IN THE MIDDLE, BUT A WHILE BEFORE THE END

It would be very accurate to say that they were both very, very, spectacularly drunk.

This was not an unusual occasion. Despite normally being a decidedly angelic angel, Arthur held a certain fondness for stiff drinks. And not-so-stiff drinks, which were still fine since that just lead to more of them. Which was more than fine.

And, Alfred1 was never one to turn down the opportunity to get wasted.

It was 1945, and the world seemed to be in a general state of euphoria so it was as good a time to get drunk as any other. They were in the back of Arthur’s bookshop in London, which had miraculously2 survived all the bombs, looters, and fires’ attempts to claim it. Outside, there was the sound of raucous cheering and general happy feelings, which was what they’d gotten drunk to celebrate in the first place. Alfred tried to recall what it was. Something to do with a… “A victory,” he declared.

“You what?” said Arthur.

“No no, not I. Me. I.” Alfred paused. “Me.”

“I,” Arthur said. Alfred frowned and shook his head, nearly falling off the table at the same time. He grabbed the edge at the last minute. What a great save.

“No, me. I mean, not me,” he said. “I mean, there’s a victory. Somewhere. Right about now, I think.”

“You mean that war?” Arthur suggested.

Alfred brightened. “Yeah, that one. That’s a real victory. Victory. Makes me feel pretty happy.”

“I don’t,” said Arthur. “Too many deaths, too many lives wasted.” His impressive eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, I’m meant to be the happy one. You,” he stabbed a finger in Alfred’s direction. “You’re s’posed to be angry ‘cause the good guys won. You…” Arthur appeared to be searching for an appropriately scandalous word. “You demon,” he finally declared, looking quite proud.

“No, see, you’re getting this wrong,” Alfred said earnestly. “See, all those people that died, that’s a point for my side.”

The eyebrows furrowed even more. “Oh.”

“Yeah, so it’s all good,” said the demon. Then he pouted. “Screwed up all of my plans though.”

“Mine too,” Arthur agreed sullenly. They both sat in mutual sullenness for a while, lost in their own thoughts of plans gone awry. “Don’t suppose you’ll give me any hints,” he ventured after a few moments.

“Well,” Alfred paused. “Well, I guess it’s. Okay. They’ve all gone to Hell anyway.” Arthur snorted. “Not that Hell. The other one. You know. Anyway,” he continued loudly, once Arthur snorted again. “Anyway, it’s sort of okay. Since it’s you.”

“What’s that mean, you brat?” The angel grumbled.

“Cause, we’ve got this thing going on, anyway,” he gestured vaguely. “This, this…”

“Arrangement?” Arthur volunteered.

He contemplated it, then shook his head. “Nah, s’too stuffy sounding. More like a…a Special Relationship3.” He grinned. “Yeah, that’s it. Special Relationship.”

Arthur stared at him as if he was drunk, or insane. Given that he was probably both of them, and more, the stare didn’t really do much. “Special relationship.”

“No, Special Relationship,” Alfred corrected. “Capitals, and shit.”

The angel looked to the side, thinking very hard. It seemed to be too much for his drunken state, as his cheeks flushed even more than they already were. “Right,” he muttered. “Capitals.”

“And shit,” Alfred said helpfully.

“Anyway,” he continued. “It’s the same thing like always. I tell you stuff, you tell me stuff. Or I don’t tell you stuff, and you don’t tell me stuff. But this time, I’m telling you stuff. And you’ll tell me stuff, too. Right?”

Arthur responded by downing another bottle. “I’m too drunk for this.”

“We could sober up,” said Alfred.

The angel gloomily shook his head. “Not drunk ‘nuff for that.” He picked up another bottle and shook it, making a disgruntled noise when he realised it was empty. Alfred waved his hand. Amber liquid was soon sloshing within its green glass. “Thanks,” he said, taking a swig.

“Anytime,” said Alfred.

--

1 - ‘Alfred’ came about as a more reasonable name than ‘Alfrog’, after the demon decided that he quite liked the first half but the latter could really do with some work. He was naturally delighted when King Alfred the Great came along, much to Arthur’s annoyance.

2 - One of them was really due to a miracle, but the other two were Arthur declaring - quite firmly - that nothing was going to lay a hand on his bookshop. It worked.

3 - Later, Alfred would claim smug responsibility for it when Winston Churchill used the term in 1946. Arthur said that its existence had been around for decades anyway, and plus it wasn’t even something for the demon to be proud of because it was a good thing. Alfred had only smirked and kissed him to make him shut up. It worked, very well.

--

SOME TIME CLOSER TO THE END

“The Antichrist?” Arthur paled. “Already?” He tossed a piece of bread into the pond.

“Yeah.” A duck eagerly snatched it up.

“Are you quite sure?” The angel tore nervously at the lump of bread in his hands. The ducks gathered at the edge of the pond looked up expectantly.

“Positive. I took the baby to the mother yesterday,” said Alfred glumly. He didn’t look very happy about it. “Give it ten years or so till he grows up, and then boom. All gone.”

“Not quite a boom,” muttered Arthur. “Seas of blood, I imagine. Flaming swords. Dreadful business.” He straightened, tossing half of the bread into the water where it was quickly claimed. “I believe some books talk about raining fish.”

Alfred groaned. “That’s not the point, Arthur. I don’t want the world to end! Neither do you!”

“Hush, life will be better after we win.”

“You mean boring,” Alfred said. The angel’s eye twitched. He threw in some crumbs with more force than was really necessary.

“At least I’d get some quiet-”

“-and nothing but the quiet,” interrupted Alfred. “No punk music.” The other eye twitched. “Well, you’d get some music. Just beautiful, classical music for the rest of forever - whoa, easy there.” A duck had, rather suddenly, sunk.

“Sorry,” muttered Arthur, waving his hand. The duck bobbed back to the surface, hacked up the offending piece of bread and glared at him reproachfully before quacking away. The angel seemed to deflate. “Ugh, I’ve gone bloody native, that’s what.”

“S’what happens when you hang around on Earth for - what, a couple of thousand of years?”

And Alfred was right. They were both right. The funny thing about humans, they had both discovered, was that they had a tendency to get things fascinatingly right. And also a tendency to get things terrifyingly wrong. It kept things interesting, especially when humans started doing their respective jobs of spreading goodwill and/or generating malice for them. In which case, Arthur and Alfred could kick back and report it all as a job well done to their respective superiors, jolly good and totally sorted out, man.

And the other thing about humans was that they tended to rub off on any non-human entity that stuck around them for too long. Wolves became tamed dogs. Rabbits became ferociously breeding pests. Angels became a tiny bit fond of alcohol, and demons became very fond of hamburgers. And none of them were ready to give this up4.

Alfred reached over and took Arthur’s hand. The angel didn’t pull away. “Hey. Hey, we still got ten years.”

“Oh, because that can compare to an eternity of Liszt,” said Arthur, a touch grumpily. He did, however, lean slightly towards the demon. Alfred grinned.

“Don’t be so sure that you guys will be the winners.”

“Because you are so eager to see the destruction of the world, aren’t you.”

“Well, the raining fish would be kinda cool.” Arthur tried to smack him with his other hand, but Alfred grabbed that too, and kissed him. The angel reciprocated, eagerly.

“Hey,” Arthur said when they broke away. His green eyes were brighter than Alfred had ever seen them before. “Why don’t we try and stop it?”

“What?” Alfred asked, thoughts still scattered.

“The Apocalypse. We’ll work it out somehow.” He smirked, in a way that definitely did not look angelic at all. “Won’t we, love?”

Alfred smiled, showing his teeth. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

--

4 - Especially not the rabbits.

--

IN THE END:

“Arthur?”

“I’m here.”

“You ready for this?”

“Of course.”

“Stay by my side, okay?”

“Always.”

--

SOMETIME AFTER THE END:

The end didn’t come.

The Antichrist had - quite politely, really - told them all that he had no wish for any Apocalypse or whatnot, thank you very much. And if it would suit them all, would they kindly get out of the way and back to wherever they belonged? He had a hockey match to go to, and he couldn’t do that if there were winged beings and half-heartedly flopping fish packed all around them.

Eventually, the Legions of Hell and the Forces of Heavens conceded. For the most part, they were too confused about the distinct absence of the malevolent, spawn-of-Lucifer Antichrist that they had been expecting. No one had expected a mild-mannered, angel (not that kind) of a child. “Fucking Alfred,” Gilbert, the prince of Hell, had been heard cursing violently.

“He probably is,” said an angel named Elizaveta, sighing.

--

It was a nice day.

One of the nicest things about it was that it actually existed.

“Let me tempt you back to bed,” Alfred said. Arthur paused, and figured that the almost-end of the world could cut him some slack.

He went back to bed.

And that was the nicest thing about it.

---

The (actual) End

pairing: usuk, !public, !fanfic, character: england, character: america, hetalia

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