(no subject)
Two sequels in a row. I'm pleased that I'm cutting down on the massive list of fics I've been meaning to finish.
Title: Anger Management.
Fandom: Hetalia.
Genre: Drama.
Pairing(s): Alfred/Arthur.
Wordcount: 3,999.
Rating/Warnings: Teen for swearing, psychotherapy and reference to violence.
Summary: The further developments from moredamnlies.livejournal.com/48617.html#cutid1 Alfred and Arthur have some healing to do.
'I sometimes wish that I'd never found out that I was hittin' Artie, but I know that's like totally wrong. Hurtin' the guy you love is like the meanest thing ever.' Alfred frowned as if he was trying to work something out.
Herr Doktor Gruber merely remained silent, holding his patient in a neutral but encouraging gaze. He was used to his patient suddenly sounding like a Valley Girl when he was upset.
'No one made me hit the guy, even if he was like totally grinding my gears, I mean he can be super-annoying and way boring, but he was kinda okay as a boyfriend.' Alfred bit his lip. 'He raised me, when he was there. He taught me and cared for me and loved me, but he was so controlling I had ta get him outta my life.' Alfred had slowed down and his accent relaxed into a milder Californian drawl, 'Sometimes the past doesn't matter, sometimes how he acted like a total dick makes me so angry, like he's the same asshole he was before we... argued that first time. It's like we're just having the same fights over and over again.'
'Did he enable me?' Alfred asked suddenly after a long, uncomfortable pause. He shook his head, 'Nah, that's me tryin' to make it sound like he's the grody one, I'm tryin' to get outta lookin' like the jerk I acted like.'
Gruber nodded encouragingly.
'And vhy do you think you do that?' He'd asked variations of that question several times over the past few months but never got an answer, Alfred had always withdrawn or avoided the question with flippancy.
There was a long silence as Alfred picked at the skin beside his thumbnail until it started bleeding. He stared hard at his knees as tears pricked at the edges of his eyes. 'Cus Artie raised me to be a hero.'
++++++++++++++++++++
The house was quiet when Ludwig got home, putting the German on edge. Even with Prussia away with the Deutsches Heer (his job was mainly shouting at the Division Spezielle Operationen and then thrashing them in training exercises, much the the battle-hardened unit's chagrin) Ludwig was accustomed to Alfred 'rocking out' to his Ipod after a good session or stomping about doing things excessively loudly when something had gone badly.
He set off in search of his house guest, suddenly frightened for him. Gott knew his own therapy experiences had been occasionally... difficult. Luckily Gilbert could be more tender with his klein bruder than others might have thought.
He found Alfred in the comfy chair in the study, an elderly leatherbound book open in his lap. Ludwig hadn't realised Alfred still remembered the German he'd picked up during the wars and from Ludwig's people coming over to live at Alfred's place. His eyes softened as he happened to read a snippet of the page Alfred was on.
'Are you enjoying it?'
For a second Alfred's face was utterly unguarded and Ludwig saw a startling array of emotions flicker across it; nostalgia, regret, guilt, hope. Then Alfred grinned up at the standing man, 'Yeah, your people have got some pretty cool stories. I never knew your guys liked heroes almost as much as my folk, that's pretty awesome!'
Ludwig nodded, remembering something Arthur had said when he'd been utterly drunk and it had been Ludwig's turn to make sure the inebriate made it home in one piece.
Arthur had been mithering as usual, moaning and mourning and cursing Alfred for leaving him before he stopped and suddenly glumly admitted it. 'It's all my fault, you know. My own bloody stupid fault for telling him all those stories about knights and fair maidens when he was a lad.'
'I think that everyone wants to believe in the existence of heroes, Alfred.' Was all Ludwig could think to say.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Arthur sighed and stretched off as his computer shut down. The house was very quiet. It had been quiet for months now, the silence broken only by the tapping of his computer keyboard and the occasional outbursts of piano music. Roderich insisted on sending him manuscripts on an almost weekly basis and like most other trends that had swept through his people, Arthur could play pianoforte quite competantly. Hell, he could even play vuvuzela and understood the rules of pogs!
What the house hadn't echoed to the noise of lately though was a human voice, it was as if it had been stolen from him.
Instead he slept a lot. It was like all those sleepless, anxious nights from... before when he didn't know whether he'd wake up to the man he fell in love with or just to a stupid, pointless, painful argument had to be made up for by hibernation. Arthur looked at the clock and sighed, he might as well curl up with with a cup of cocoa and the latest Dick Francis novel. The book dropped from his fingers before the end of chapter five and the cocoa sat going cold as the clock ticked away more hours of silence.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Alfred stared at the blank page open on his computer screen, fretfully tapping the space bar as he tried to make inspiration to strike. The shrink had started him on doing homework. Creative writing sucked ass majorly, and what was the point of a dream diary? Al knew he had nightmares, he woke up with them often enough to know he was having them, but he sure couldn't remember what they were about and he damn' well didn't want to remember them!
He started typing a cute story about a dog, before re-reading it and realising that he'd typed out the plot of a Snoopy comic he'd read in that day's newspaper. Man, this was harder than it looked! He sighed and started typing again, just putting words onto the blank document.
[i]For as long as I can remember I've always wanted to be a hero. I guess listening to all those cool stories as a kid about knights and stuff kinda stuck with me. I always tried to live up to that, coming to the rescue, sending aid to other people who needed it, trying to spread freedom to all the rest of the world, trying not to let an injustice stand if I could help it. I didn't always get it right, God knows how many times I haven't been in time or haven't succeeded, but I always tried. I guess some of it was trying to impress Arthur. I've always loved him, as long as I can remember, but he's always confused me too. British people are wierd, it's like they're allergic to actually saying what they mean. If I catch him when he thinks no one's looking then he smiles and stuff, but as soon as he sees anyone he's all like 'Bloody Hell JOnes are you trying to gve me a bleeding heart attack!' or 'You clumsy wanker, looke where you're going and stop showing off for once in your ;ife!'[/i]
Alfred shoved his chair backwards and stamped off to the little gym Germany had in the basement to beat the shit out of the big punching bag Ludwig kept there. He pushed past a startled Ludwig, who was carrying a mug of kaffee and a couple of lebkuchen. He must have been sat staring at his computer for a good couple of hours if the German was having his customary afternoon snack already.
Ludwig hastily stepped back, just barely preventing his drink from spilling onto the light-coloured carpet and sighed in relief. Getting stains out of the nice hall carpet was very difficult. Then he frowned and headed into the small room he'd fitted out as a study for Alfred to make sure that his guest hadn't made a mess in there. He hit save on the open document, feeling a bit guilty at his intrusion on America's privacy as he skimmed the stream of consciousness his guest had poured out. He humphed and left the room as he'd found it, instead heading back to his own study, where he felt a strange need to send Prussia a text.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Arthur blinked as he opened the door and the smell of very good curry hit him in the face. Then he saw India and Bangladesh carrying said curry and his eyes widened even as a small smile tugged at his lips.
'Anayya! You are looking better than when we last met.' Asha exclaimed as she swept him into a hug, Devangi looking on with amused affection. Her big sister had clearly been worried about their old coloniser, even if she'd said that she was only there to check up on their people who'd come to England to make a new life and to see if Curry Mile was as good as Arthur boasted it was. She on the other hand had come along to gloat about her team winning against Arthur's in the last test between them.
Devangi had to wonder what Arthur must have looked like four months ago if what he looked like now was an improvement, but the slighter eastern nation just smiled and greeted Arthur, who clasped her proffered hand with a smile and gestured for the pair to come in. Oddly he chose not to speak, but then the old empire was a strange creature at the best of times, so Devangi took it in her stride. It was strange, seeing Arthur again as an ex-colony. Part of her resented him still, but part of her swelled with pride to be acknowledged by him tacitly. Being treated like the proper country she was and yet casually accepted into her old brother/enemy's house as a friend made her feel so warm and happy.
They ate in companiable silence, sat around the kitchen table like a dysfunctional mockery of the sitcom families Devangi had seen on British television in the hotel room she and Asha had shared during their little holiday. She couldn't help but mock the situation in a brief bark of Bengali through her laughter. The other two laughed, Arthur after a brief pause to recall the language. Asha seemed to relax at that and settled into lightly teasing Arthur for his cricket team's loss against Devangi's, her smile and warm squeeze of his hand taking the sting from her words.
Arthur felt a little more solid in her arms as Asha hugged him goodbye, although he clearly needed some more good home cooking before he stopped feeling like a strong wind might push him over. Devangi also gave him a proper hug goodbye and India warmed with pleasure as her slender, mousy sister joked with Arthur in her home tongue, gently teasing him as an equal, almost blossoming into a sort of confidence under his quiet attention.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
.... I'm not much of a hero, but that doesn't matter. I did bad things. I got angry and hurt the guy I thought I loved best. That was wrong, but it's happened now. It doesn't matter. What matters what I do next. Like Doc Gruber and Ludwig say, I can take this and let it beat me and turn into the asshole I've been behaving like or I can get my shit together and deal. I'm gonna get better and I'm gonna be the hero I always said I was. I'll do it a day at a time and maybe Arthur'll forgive me for being the asshole I was and still am. Maybe he won't, but I'll have to let it be his decision, or I'll just still be the dick I don't wanna be any more.
Alfred had to be urged to look at the Herr Doktor after he'd handed over his latest homework assignment and was clearly shocked when the glum man bestowed a gentle smile on him. 'Good work, Alfred.'
'Thanks Doc. I want to get better, ta be better, not just for me, but for my friends as well. I've been thinking real hard these past coupla weeks and fer the first time since we started talking I realised how lucky I am to have a brother like Mattie who's kept on calling me every week, even when I was a total douche to him. Ludwig's let me stay over in his house for all these months and made me food that he knows I like, I don't wanna screw those relationships up like I did my relationship with Arthur and if I don't take a good hard look at myself then sooner or later I might hurt them.'
The young man in front of him was a far cry from the irrational youth in denial about his temper and about his long-held emotional issues. He was still prone to getting overexcited, reminding Hans of a golden labrador puppy sometimes, but it was time to get him standing on his own two feet again.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Matthew paused in the middle of cutting a slice of red velvet cake. 'Arthur? Eh, I haven't seen him since that last meeting you were both in. Francis still sees him at some of the EU meetings though, so I guess he's well enough.'
Alfred nodded, accepting the answer and stealing the slice of cake Matt had been about to eat with a triumphant grin. 'Well, I guess I won't be seeing him for a while then. I miss him, but I can see why he might have gone quiet. Anyways, enough of that boring talk, let's party!'
Matt rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but laugh as his brother turned up the music and started dancing the Macarena with an already drunk Prussia. The impromptu house rewarming party was his first public appearance in nearly seven months and all the invited nations were having fun, mainly the south Americas and a few others Alfred got along with particularly well with, like Ludwig and Kiku. Seeing as Mexico had already spiked the fruit punch it was promising to get rowdy very quickly. Matt only hoped Alfred could control his temper better when Bolivia started getting mouthy again, as was the South American nation's wont under the influence.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Prime Minister didn't point out that Arthur was humming 'Lazing on a Sunny Afternoon' under his breath as they trotted up the stairs to another world event together. It was the first vocal noise he'd heard from his nation in almost a year and he wasn't going to jinx the lad's apparent recovery by drawing attention to it. It had taken nearly three months before his skittishness had settled down and while the blond's impressive work had really helped them get a clearer understanding of the pensions crisis the premier was not so harsh a man as to jeopardise the lad's progress in the name of professionalism.
The German and Polish Presidents greeted them, along with Ludwig and Feliks. The personification of Poland immediately seized Arthur's arm and started chattering away at high speed about something the PM couldn't understand.
Ludwig was impressed at Feliks' skillful direction of their acquaintance, dragging him over to where Hungary and Austria were sitting with a demand that Arthur be the judge as to whether Feliks or Elizaveta had the better nail polish. Arthur was simply dragged along, blinking in surprise but swept up in the diminutive country's energy. He was surprised when Roderich greeted him warmly and Elizaveta spared a moment to greet him in between arguing that her subtle French manicure was sophisticated and elegant, something that Feliks obviously wouldn't understand. There was no teasing.
Alfred stopped dead, his boss nearly crashing into his back when he looked across the room and saw a pale, tired and decidedly dazed looking Arthur having Poland's fluorescent pink nails being shoved under his nose for inspection. He wanted to run away, but he also wanted to run over and hold Arthur tightly and beg forgiveness. A third part of him looked over the tumult of conflicting and painful emotions and guided him over to where Canada stood with his boss and France, discussing something in French.
Matthew looked over to where Alfred was staring and made a little noise of realisation. 'Ah, I forgot that this was probably going to be one of the events that Arthur would have to attend. Look, it'll be alright, I'll keep you over here and obviously distracted from having to go over and see him if you want.'
Alfred's expression was heartbreaking as he considered it, shoulders sagging in defeat as he nodded. 'Yeah, I'm not ready for this.'
From the looks Hungary was shooting over at Canada, pleading him to keep Alfred away, Matt guessed Hungary didn't think Arthur was ready either. 'That's okay, we'll deal with it, then.' He patted Alfred on the back amiably and started talking about how badly he'd kicked Russia's ass during their last hockey game.
'It is sad that America and England are not playing together today, da?' Ivan remarked dreamily to Roderich as they both accepted drinks from a ninja-like waiter, who promptly blended back into the crowd to appear at Bruce's elbow just as Australia realised he'd finished his drink.
Arthur whipped around at that, eyes bulging in shock when he saw that the other object of Ivan's idle speculation was also present. He choked on the canape he'd been nibbling and Sweden had to perform the heimlich maneouvre as the only nation nearby with any presence of mind.
Alfred looked very handsome, Arthur noted dully as he stumbled to a seat and accepted a glass of water from another ninja waiter. White teeth practically glistened in his tanned face as he laughed at something Matthew was saying. His eyes seemed impossibly blue, dancing with an innocent laughter that wrenched oddly at Arthur's chest. No! He had to stop that! Instead he scowled fiercely into the depths of his glass of water and ran over the speech his boss was due to make later, checking it over once again. Eventually his hands stopped shaking enough for him to attempt drinking.
Alfred barely heard a word of the British Prime Minister's important financial speech about third world aid or something. Instead he couldn't tear his eyes away from Arthur, who stood steadily behind his boss holding a sheaf of papers like some faithful servant played by Stephen Fry in the tv version. Had Arthur lost weight? He sure looked tired, but then lots of nations did, having crammed in a bunch of last-minute work so their bosses would look awesome in the presence of the other world leaders.
Then Alfred's boss went up on the stage and Alfred realised he'd have to follow him as a show of unity or something. He followed, feeling like a character in a horror movie, knowing the monster is out there, but still having to go out there. He and the other American representative followed their boss up and camera flashes went off as Alfred strode over to the British contingent, politely shaking hands with the two Brits in a daze while the two bosses posed for the cameras. Arthur's hand was cool in his, but his handshake was firm and they both managed to murmur something appropriately polite.
If he'd been asked what he'd said to Arthur on that stage then Alfred would have had to have shrugged and pleaded ignorance. It was like the whole world stopped, a rushing noise deafened him as he took Arthur's hand and looked into his eyes dazedly, struck anew by how bright a green they were. He managed to let go and head back to his boss with a slight mental effort, only holding on to Arthur for a second too long.
When he got back onto the ground in front of the stage and the Belgian Premier began to speak Matthew wordlessly handed him a drink which he gulped down, before coughing. 'Jesus Matt! What the Hell was in that?'
'Eh, it was a screwdriver, but I guess it must have been pretty heavy on the vodka.' Canada replied apologetically. 'Do you want another?'
'Non, je pense que... he will want something more soothing.' Francis suggested, switching to English when he noticed Alfred's blank look of incomprehension. Instead he offered a small glass of brandy. Alfred accepted it and headed out for some air.
Arthur had given his boss a pleading look and received permission to go outside to collect himself. The PM had assumed that the crowded atmosphere was a bit much for the nation after a year of almost hermitage and had waved him off with an affable nod.
The cool air was pleasant and Arthur sighed in relief as he headed for a nearby bench and sat down to sip at his cooling cup of tea. He ignored the other person at the other end of the bench, some other poor sod shoved into their best suit and nearly stifled to death indoors likely enough. A strangled noise brought him out of his thoughts and Arthur realised that he and Alfred had had the same idea.
'You sick of all that stuff in there too?' Alfred managed to ask casually. A brief smile and nod answered him. Arthur settled down to a more comfortable position on the bench and Alfred let the silence linger on for a companiable moment.
Arthur's shoulder brushed easily against Alfred's knee as he bent down to put the empty cup and saucer safely down on the floor under the bench and Alfred gasped at the contact. Something made him speak. 'Arthur, I'm sorry.'
Arthur's expression shifted into sorrow and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing happened. Alfred carried on though, as if Arthur hadn't tried to say anything. 'I'm sorry I hurt you, and I'm sorry that I didn't stop myself and I'm sorry we didn't work out in the end.' Alfred felt almost lightheaded at that, as if his head would simply float away, but a warm hand anchored him. Arthur's rough-skinned mitt slipped into his and squeezed and Alfred could almost taste the regret in the air between them.
Arthur savoured the warmth of Alfred's hand in his, a counterpoint to the cool calm evening air. He wasn't sure how he felt about Alfred's confession, the sincerity and lack of violence or flippant, ridiculous nonsense was anathema to the Alfred he'd known and he was a little curious to see how this maturer version of America would turn out. He managed a lop-sided smile and pat as he stood, back clicking in the silence before he headed back into the crowded room.
He bumped into Canada on his way in, Matt looked almost frantic and blurted out, 'Have you seen Alfred? I can't find him anywhere!' before he realised he wasn't meant to let Arthur know that.
Arthur jerked his thumb over his shoulder casually defusing the panic brewing in Matthew's violet eyes. He waved vaguely to Matthew and headed back to where Eliaveta was trying not to cause an international incident by hitting Prussia with her frying pan.
Alfred didn't notice Matthew at first, but startled into a half-stand when Matt plonked down next to him. 'So... you and Arthur?'
Alfred looked up at the stars pensively. 'I told him I was sorry. He didn't say anything, but I'm glad I said it. I just wish I didn't still love him after all that.'
'He didn't try and hit you, I'd say that's something, eh?' Matt cajoled. 'Anyway, Arthur hasn't said anything to anyone in over a year.'
'Yeah, he didn't hit me and he even held my hand.' Alfred remembered, the memory of the little gesture warming him. It wasn't much, but he guessed it was a start.
Title: Anger Management.
Fandom: Hetalia.
Genre: Drama.
Pairing(s): Alfred/Arthur.
Wordcount: 3,999.
Rating/Warnings: Teen for swearing, psychotherapy and reference to violence.
Summary: The further developments from moredamnlies.livejournal.com/48617.html#cutid1 Alfred and Arthur have some healing to do.
'I sometimes wish that I'd never found out that I was hittin' Artie, but I know that's like totally wrong. Hurtin' the guy you love is like the meanest thing ever.' Alfred frowned as if he was trying to work something out.
Herr Doktor Gruber merely remained silent, holding his patient in a neutral but encouraging gaze. He was used to his patient suddenly sounding like a Valley Girl when he was upset.
'No one made me hit the guy, even if he was like totally grinding my gears, I mean he can be super-annoying and way boring, but he was kinda okay as a boyfriend.' Alfred bit his lip. 'He raised me, when he was there. He taught me and cared for me and loved me, but he was so controlling I had ta get him outta my life.' Alfred had slowed down and his accent relaxed into a milder Californian drawl, 'Sometimes the past doesn't matter, sometimes how he acted like a total dick makes me so angry, like he's the same asshole he was before we... argued that first time. It's like we're just having the same fights over and over again.'
'Did he enable me?' Alfred asked suddenly after a long, uncomfortable pause. He shook his head, 'Nah, that's me tryin' to make it sound like he's the grody one, I'm tryin' to get outta lookin' like the jerk I acted like.'
Gruber nodded encouragingly.
'And vhy do you think you do that?' He'd asked variations of that question several times over the past few months but never got an answer, Alfred had always withdrawn or avoided the question with flippancy.
There was a long silence as Alfred picked at the skin beside his thumbnail until it started bleeding. He stared hard at his knees as tears pricked at the edges of his eyes. 'Cus Artie raised me to be a hero.'
++++++++++++++++++++
The house was quiet when Ludwig got home, putting the German on edge. Even with Prussia away with the Deutsches Heer (his job was mainly shouting at the Division Spezielle Operationen and then thrashing them in training exercises, much the the battle-hardened unit's chagrin) Ludwig was accustomed to Alfred 'rocking out' to his Ipod after a good session or stomping about doing things excessively loudly when something had gone badly.
He set off in search of his house guest, suddenly frightened for him. Gott knew his own therapy experiences had been occasionally... difficult. Luckily Gilbert could be more tender with his klein bruder than others might have thought.
He found Alfred in the comfy chair in the study, an elderly leatherbound book open in his lap. Ludwig hadn't realised Alfred still remembered the German he'd picked up during the wars and from Ludwig's people coming over to live at Alfred's place. His eyes softened as he happened to read a snippet of the page Alfred was on.
'Are you enjoying it?'
For a second Alfred's face was utterly unguarded and Ludwig saw a startling array of emotions flicker across it; nostalgia, regret, guilt, hope. Then Alfred grinned up at the standing man, 'Yeah, your people have got some pretty cool stories. I never knew your guys liked heroes almost as much as my folk, that's pretty awesome!'
Ludwig nodded, remembering something Arthur had said when he'd been utterly drunk and it had been Ludwig's turn to make sure the inebriate made it home in one piece.
Arthur had been mithering as usual, moaning and mourning and cursing Alfred for leaving him before he stopped and suddenly glumly admitted it. 'It's all my fault, you know. My own bloody stupid fault for telling him all those stories about knights and fair maidens when he was a lad.'
'I think that everyone wants to believe in the existence of heroes, Alfred.' Was all Ludwig could think to say.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Arthur sighed and stretched off as his computer shut down. The house was very quiet. It had been quiet for months now, the silence broken only by the tapping of his computer keyboard and the occasional outbursts of piano music. Roderich insisted on sending him manuscripts on an almost weekly basis and like most other trends that had swept through his people, Arthur could play pianoforte quite competantly. Hell, he could even play vuvuzela and understood the rules of pogs!
What the house hadn't echoed to the noise of lately though was a human voice, it was as if it had been stolen from him.
Instead he slept a lot. It was like all those sleepless, anxious nights from... before when he didn't know whether he'd wake up to the man he fell in love with or just to a stupid, pointless, painful argument had to be made up for by hibernation. Arthur looked at the clock and sighed, he might as well curl up with with a cup of cocoa and the latest Dick Francis novel. The book dropped from his fingers before the end of chapter five and the cocoa sat going cold as the clock ticked away more hours of silence.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Alfred stared at the blank page open on his computer screen, fretfully tapping the space bar as he tried to make inspiration to strike. The shrink had started him on doing homework. Creative writing sucked ass majorly, and what was the point of a dream diary? Al knew he had nightmares, he woke up with them often enough to know he was having them, but he sure couldn't remember what they were about and he damn' well didn't want to remember them!
He started typing a cute story about a dog, before re-reading it and realising that he'd typed out the plot of a Snoopy comic he'd read in that day's newspaper. Man, this was harder than it looked! He sighed and started typing again, just putting words onto the blank document.
[i]For as long as I can remember I've always wanted to be a hero. I guess listening to all those cool stories as a kid about knights and stuff kinda stuck with me. I always tried to live up to that, coming to the rescue, sending aid to other people who needed it, trying to spread freedom to all the rest of the world, trying not to let an injustice stand if I could help it. I didn't always get it right, God knows how many times I haven't been in time or haven't succeeded, but I always tried. I guess some of it was trying to impress Arthur. I've always loved him, as long as I can remember, but he's always confused me too. British people are wierd, it's like they're allergic to actually saying what they mean. If I catch him when he thinks no one's looking then he smiles and stuff, but as soon as he sees anyone he's all like 'Bloody Hell JOnes are you trying to gve me a bleeding heart attack!' or 'You clumsy wanker, looke where you're going and stop showing off for once in your ;ife!'[/i]
Alfred shoved his chair backwards and stamped off to the little gym Germany had in the basement to beat the shit out of the big punching bag Ludwig kept there. He pushed past a startled Ludwig, who was carrying a mug of kaffee and a couple of lebkuchen. He must have been sat staring at his computer for a good couple of hours if the German was having his customary afternoon snack already.
Ludwig hastily stepped back, just barely preventing his drink from spilling onto the light-coloured carpet and sighed in relief. Getting stains out of the nice hall carpet was very difficult. Then he frowned and headed into the small room he'd fitted out as a study for Alfred to make sure that his guest hadn't made a mess in there. He hit save on the open document, feeling a bit guilty at his intrusion on America's privacy as he skimmed the stream of consciousness his guest had poured out. He humphed and left the room as he'd found it, instead heading back to his own study, where he felt a strange need to send Prussia a text.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Arthur blinked as he opened the door and the smell of very good curry hit him in the face. Then he saw India and Bangladesh carrying said curry and his eyes widened even as a small smile tugged at his lips.
'Anayya! You are looking better than when we last met.' Asha exclaimed as she swept him into a hug, Devangi looking on with amused affection. Her big sister had clearly been worried about their old coloniser, even if she'd said that she was only there to check up on their people who'd come to England to make a new life and to see if Curry Mile was as good as Arthur boasted it was. She on the other hand had come along to gloat about her team winning against Arthur's in the last test between them.
Devangi had to wonder what Arthur must have looked like four months ago if what he looked like now was an improvement, but the slighter eastern nation just smiled and greeted Arthur, who clasped her proffered hand with a smile and gestured for the pair to come in. Oddly he chose not to speak, but then the old empire was a strange creature at the best of times, so Devangi took it in her stride. It was strange, seeing Arthur again as an ex-colony. Part of her resented him still, but part of her swelled with pride to be acknowledged by him tacitly. Being treated like the proper country she was and yet casually accepted into her old brother/enemy's house as a friend made her feel so warm and happy.
They ate in companiable silence, sat around the kitchen table like a dysfunctional mockery of the sitcom families Devangi had seen on British television in the hotel room she and Asha had shared during their little holiday. She couldn't help but mock the situation in a brief bark of Bengali through her laughter. The other two laughed, Arthur after a brief pause to recall the language. Asha seemed to relax at that and settled into lightly teasing Arthur for his cricket team's loss against Devangi's, her smile and warm squeeze of his hand taking the sting from her words.
Arthur felt a little more solid in her arms as Asha hugged him goodbye, although he clearly needed some more good home cooking before he stopped feeling like a strong wind might push him over. Devangi also gave him a proper hug goodbye and India warmed with pleasure as her slender, mousy sister joked with Arthur in her home tongue, gently teasing him as an equal, almost blossoming into a sort of confidence under his quiet attention.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
.... I'm not much of a hero, but that doesn't matter. I did bad things. I got angry and hurt the guy I thought I loved best. That was wrong, but it's happened now. It doesn't matter. What matters what I do next. Like Doc Gruber and Ludwig say, I can take this and let it beat me and turn into the asshole I've been behaving like or I can get my shit together and deal. I'm gonna get better and I'm gonna be the hero I always said I was. I'll do it a day at a time and maybe Arthur'll forgive me for being the asshole I was and still am. Maybe he won't, but I'll have to let it be his decision, or I'll just still be the dick I don't wanna be any more.
Alfred had to be urged to look at the Herr Doktor after he'd handed over his latest homework assignment and was clearly shocked when the glum man bestowed a gentle smile on him. 'Good work, Alfred.'
'Thanks Doc. I want to get better, ta be better, not just for me, but for my friends as well. I've been thinking real hard these past coupla weeks and fer the first time since we started talking I realised how lucky I am to have a brother like Mattie who's kept on calling me every week, even when I was a total douche to him. Ludwig's let me stay over in his house for all these months and made me food that he knows I like, I don't wanna screw those relationships up like I did my relationship with Arthur and if I don't take a good hard look at myself then sooner or later I might hurt them.'
The young man in front of him was a far cry from the irrational youth in denial about his temper and about his long-held emotional issues. He was still prone to getting overexcited, reminding Hans of a golden labrador puppy sometimes, but it was time to get him standing on his own two feet again.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Matthew paused in the middle of cutting a slice of red velvet cake. 'Arthur? Eh, I haven't seen him since that last meeting you were both in. Francis still sees him at some of the EU meetings though, so I guess he's well enough.'
Alfred nodded, accepting the answer and stealing the slice of cake Matt had been about to eat with a triumphant grin. 'Well, I guess I won't be seeing him for a while then. I miss him, but I can see why he might have gone quiet. Anyways, enough of that boring talk, let's party!'
Matt rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but laugh as his brother turned up the music and started dancing the Macarena with an already drunk Prussia. The impromptu house rewarming party was his first public appearance in nearly seven months and all the invited nations were having fun, mainly the south Americas and a few others Alfred got along with particularly well with, like Ludwig and Kiku. Seeing as Mexico had already spiked the fruit punch it was promising to get rowdy very quickly. Matt only hoped Alfred could control his temper better when Bolivia started getting mouthy again, as was the South American nation's wont under the influence.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Prime Minister didn't point out that Arthur was humming 'Lazing on a Sunny Afternoon' under his breath as they trotted up the stairs to another world event together. It was the first vocal noise he'd heard from his nation in almost a year and he wasn't going to jinx the lad's apparent recovery by drawing attention to it. It had taken nearly three months before his skittishness had settled down and while the blond's impressive work had really helped them get a clearer understanding of the pensions crisis the premier was not so harsh a man as to jeopardise the lad's progress in the name of professionalism.
The German and Polish Presidents greeted them, along with Ludwig and Feliks. The personification of Poland immediately seized Arthur's arm and started chattering away at high speed about something the PM couldn't understand.
Ludwig was impressed at Feliks' skillful direction of their acquaintance, dragging him over to where Hungary and Austria were sitting with a demand that Arthur be the judge as to whether Feliks or Elizaveta had the better nail polish. Arthur was simply dragged along, blinking in surprise but swept up in the diminutive country's energy. He was surprised when Roderich greeted him warmly and Elizaveta spared a moment to greet him in between arguing that her subtle French manicure was sophisticated and elegant, something that Feliks obviously wouldn't understand. There was no teasing.
Alfred stopped dead, his boss nearly crashing into his back when he looked across the room and saw a pale, tired and decidedly dazed looking Arthur having Poland's fluorescent pink nails being shoved under his nose for inspection. He wanted to run away, but he also wanted to run over and hold Arthur tightly and beg forgiveness. A third part of him looked over the tumult of conflicting and painful emotions and guided him over to where Canada stood with his boss and France, discussing something in French.
Matthew looked over to where Alfred was staring and made a little noise of realisation. 'Ah, I forgot that this was probably going to be one of the events that Arthur would have to attend. Look, it'll be alright, I'll keep you over here and obviously distracted from having to go over and see him if you want.'
Alfred's expression was heartbreaking as he considered it, shoulders sagging in defeat as he nodded. 'Yeah, I'm not ready for this.'
From the looks Hungary was shooting over at Canada, pleading him to keep Alfred away, Matt guessed Hungary didn't think Arthur was ready either. 'That's okay, we'll deal with it, then.' He patted Alfred on the back amiably and started talking about how badly he'd kicked Russia's ass during their last hockey game.
'It is sad that America and England are not playing together today, da?' Ivan remarked dreamily to Roderich as they both accepted drinks from a ninja-like waiter, who promptly blended back into the crowd to appear at Bruce's elbow just as Australia realised he'd finished his drink.
Arthur whipped around at that, eyes bulging in shock when he saw that the other object of Ivan's idle speculation was also present. He choked on the canape he'd been nibbling and Sweden had to perform the heimlich maneouvre as the only nation nearby with any presence of mind.
Alfred looked very handsome, Arthur noted dully as he stumbled to a seat and accepted a glass of water from another ninja waiter. White teeth practically glistened in his tanned face as he laughed at something Matthew was saying. His eyes seemed impossibly blue, dancing with an innocent laughter that wrenched oddly at Arthur's chest. No! He had to stop that! Instead he scowled fiercely into the depths of his glass of water and ran over the speech his boss was due to make later, checking it over once again. Eventually his hands stopped shaking enough for him to attempt drinking.
Alfred barely heard a word of the British Prime Minister's important financial speech about third world aid or something. Instead he couldn't tear his eyes away from Arthur, who stood steadily behind his boss holding a sheaf of papers like some faithful servant played by Stephen Fry in the tv version. Had Arthur lost weight? He sure looked tired, but then lots of nations did, having crammed in a bunch of last-minute work so their bosses would look awesome in the presence of the other world leaders.
Then Alfred's boss went up on the stage and Alfred realised he'd have to follow him as a show of unity or something. He followed, feeling like a character in a horror movie, knowing the monster is out there, but still having to go out there. He and the other American representative followed their boss up and camera flashes went off as Alfred strode over to the British contingent, politely shaking hands with the two Brits in a daze while the two bosses posed for the cameras. Arthur's hand was cool in his, but his handshake was firm and they both managed to murmur something appropriately polite.
If he'd been asked what he'd said to Arthur on that stage then Alfred would have had to have shrugged and pleaded ignorance. It was like the whole world stopped, a rushing noise deafened him as he took Arthur's hand and looked into his eyes dazedly, struck anew by how bright a green they were. He managed to let go and head back to his boss with a slight mental effort, only holding on to Arthur for a second too long.
When he got back onto the ground in front of the stage and the Belgian Premier began to speak Matthew wordlessly handed him a drink which he gulped down, before coughing. 'Jesus Matt! What the Hell was in that?'
'Eh, it was a screwdriver, but I guess it must have been pretty heavy on the vodka.' Canada replied apologetically. 'Do you want another?'
'Non, je pense que... he will want something more soothing.' Francis suggested, switching to English when he noticed Alfred's blank look of incomprehension. Instead he offered a small glass of brandy. Alfred accepted it and headed out for some air.
Arthur had given his boss a pleading look and received permission to go outside to collect himself. The PM had assumed that the crowded atmosphere was a bit much for the nation after a year of almost hermitage and had waved him off with an affable nod.
The cool air was pleasant and Arthur sighed in relief as he headed for a nearby bench and sat down to sip at his cooling cup of tea. He ignored the other person at the other end of the bench, some other poor sod shoved into their best suit and nearly stifled to death indoors likely enough. A strangled noise brought him out of his thoughts and Arthur realised that he and Alfred had had the same idea.
'You sick of all that stuff in there too?' Alfred managed to ask casually. A brief smile and nod answered him. Arthur settled down to a more comfortable position on the bench and Alfred let the silence linger on for a companiable moment.
Arthur's shoulder brushed easily against Alfred's knee as he bent down to put the empty cup and saucer safely down on the floor under the bench and Alfred gasped at the contact. Something made him speak. 'Arthur, I'm sorry.'
Arthur's expression shifted into sorrow and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing happened. Alfred carried on though, as if Arthur hadn't tried to say anything. 'I'm sorry I hurt you, and I'm sorry that I didn't stop myself and I'm sorry we didn't work out in the end.' Alfred felt almost lightheaded at that, as if his head would simply float away, but a warm hand anchored him. Arthur's rough-skinned mitt slipped into his and squeezed and Alfred could almost taste the regret in the air between them.
Arthur savoured the warmth of Alfred's hand in his, a counterpoint to the cool calm evening air. He wasn't sure how he felt about Alfred's confession, the sincerity and lack of violence or flippant, ridiculous nonsense was anathema to the Alfred he'd known and he was a little curious to see how this maturer version of America would turn out. He managed a lop-sided smile and pat as he stood, back clicking in the silence before he headed back into the crowded room.
He bumped into Canada on his way in, Matt looked almost frantic and blurted out, 'Have you seen Alfred? I can't find him anywhere!' before he realised he wasn't meant to let Arthur know that.
Arthur jerked his thumb over his shoulder casually defusing the panic brewing in Matthew's violet eyes. He waved vaguely to Matthew and headed back to where Eliaveta was trying not to cause an international incident by hitting Prussia with her frying pan.
Alfred didn't notice Matthew at first, but startled into a half-stand when Matt plonked down next to him. 'So... you and Arthur?'
Alfred looked up at the stars pensively. 'I told him I was sorry. He didn't say anything, but I'm glad I said it. I just wish I didn't still love him after all that.'
'He didn't try and hit you, I'd say that's something, eh?' Matt cajoled. 'Anyway, Arthur hasn't said anything to anyone in over a year.'
'Yeah, he didn't hit me and he even held my hand.' Alfred remembered, the memory of the little gesture warming him. It wasn't much, but he guessed it was a start.