STORY!post
Title: If Anything
Author/Artist: nastybillabong
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England. USUK.
Rating: T for language.
Warnings: Drabble prompt thing. Human names used. Train of thought point of view.
Summary: Arthur's stressed, and Alfred does what he does best.
He's standing outside, leaning on one of the posts - his usual spot, - his face hidden from my view, even if I try to squint to see if he's... approachable. These days have been hard on him, it shows. His eyebags are darker, his eyes are duller, and hell if I'd know, but maybe he seems more tired than he should be. It gets... really hard to talk to him when he's all like that - quiet and stuff, - because I've gotta put on a smile and, - don't get me wrong, he really does make me happy, okay? It's just that it seems that I've got to kick the wheels into gear before they get moving. Gotta keep moving forward if we wanna get anywhere, after all.
So, I lasso my balls and hope that Arthur's feeling just a little better today.
"Hey Art!"
He looks at me and smiles. It's the smile that might say something like, oh-hey-it's-you-what's-up and whatever. Typical amiable smile. I could be wrong - maybe it's something like alo-pip-pip-cheerio-and-all-that-wot-wot because he's British. It's also a very tired smile. I wouldn't blame him, though.
"Hello, Alfred."
If I ever asked, Arthur wouldn't tell me. Actually, even if I didn't ask, Arthur still wouldn't tell me a damn thing. He's the kind of guy who wouldn't want anyone to worry. Pft. That's a typical hero-move. Probably rubbed off on him or something.
"So, how've you been?" And he kind of just does this thing where he looks off to the side. I know he's not avoiding me or anything, maybe just... thinking? "You look tired, Art."
The way he looked just validated the statement.
"Yeah, I am," He rubs at his face, his eyes, his eyebrows, and runs his hands through his hair. "Work's been growing like a fungus these days. It's bad enough that I end up distracting myself while it does."
"Oh."
And that's really all I can say. I mean, sure, I've got tons of work too, and I'm not saying that I'm not complaining about it either, it's just that... I look at him and it makes me want to take a deep breath and just - just take all that weight from his shoulders. I can tell that it's not just the work he's been stressing over. He doesn't want that stress. I don't think anybody would.
"Well," So I have to lighten up the mood a little. "You know, since you said it's like a fungus, maybe, you can like, chop it up and eat it or something!"
He gives me a weird look, but it'll do.
"You know, like, mushrooms. Cause mushrooms are funguses. And you can chop them and put them in soup and stuff."
There's the crack - the smile, the chuckle.
"Firstly, Alfred, it's fungi. And secondly, as much as I'd love to, everything is due by midnight. If not by midnight, tomorrow afternoon."
He sighs, but it's not as... sad? Tired? As it was before. Looks like I've done my job right.
"I totally knew that. I was just testing you."
"Really."
"Totally."
He checks his watch. It's routine by now. Breaks don't last very long. He looks up but before he tells me that he needs to go, I nod because I know already, so he doesn't really have to say it.
If anything, I could say that I really do try looking after him, even if he was raised to be independent. I don't doubt that he can take care of himself, keep his emotions in check, - in fact, I don't mind if he'd let himself break down every once in a while. It's healthy, isn't it? - it's just that I want him to know that if he ever needs anything, anything at all, I'm here to be his hero.
-x-x-x-
A/N: I'm pretty sure this was supposed to be really really angsty, but my mind had other ideas. x'D Also it's exam week! What am I doing writing fanfiction. Going back to studying now. :'D
Author/Artist: nastybillabong
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England. USUK.
Rating: T for language.
Warnings: Drabble prompt thing. Human names used. Train of thought point of view.
Summary: Arthur's stressed, and Alfred does what he does best.
He's standing outside, leaning on one of the posts - his usual spot, - his face hidden from my view, even if I try to squint to see if he's... approachable. These days have been hard on him, it shows. His eyebags are darker, his eyes are duller, and hell if I'd know, but maybe he seems more tired than he should be. It gets... really hard to talk to him when he's all like that - quiet and stuff, - because I've gotta put on a smile and, - don't get me wrong, he really does make me happy, okay? It's just that it seems that I've got to kick the wheels into gear before they get moving. Gotta keep moving forward if we wanna get anywhere, after all.
So, I lasso my balls and hope that Arthur's feeling just a little better today.
"Hey Art!"
He looks at me and smiles. It's the smile that might say something like, oh-hey-it's-you-what's-up and whatever. Typical amiable smile. I could be wrong - maybe it's something like alo-pip-pip-cheerio-and-all-that-wot-wot because he's British. It's also a very tired smile. I wouldn't blame him, though.
"Hello, Alfred."
If I ever asked, Arthur wouldn't tell me. Actually, even if I didn't ask, Arthur still wouldn't tell me a damn thing. He's the kind of guy who wouldn't want anyone to worry. Pft. That's a typical hero-move. Probably rubbed off on him or something.
"So, how've you been?" And he kind of just does this thing where he looks off to the side. I know he's not avoiding me or anything, maybe just... thinking? "You look tired, Art."
The way he looked just validated the statement.
"Yeah, I am," He rubs at his face, his eyes, his eyebrows, and runs his hands through his hair. "Work's been growing like a fungus these days. It's bad enough that I end up distracting myself while it does."
"Oh."
And that's really all I can say. I mean, sure, I've got tons of work too, and I'm not saying that I'm not complaining about it either, it's just that... I look at him and it makes me want to take a deep breath and just - just take all that weight from his shoulders. I can tell that it's not just the work he's been stressing over. He doesn't want that stress. I don't think anybody would.
"Well," So I have to lighten up the mood a little. "You know, since you said it's like a fungus, maybe, you can like, chop it up and eat it or something!"
He gives me a weird look, but it'll do.
"You know, like, mushrooms. Cause mushrooms are funguses. And you can chop them and put them in soup and stuff."
There's the crack - the smile, the chuckle.
"Firstly, Alfred, it's fungi. And secondly, as much as I'd love to, everything is due by midnight. If not by midnight, tomorrow afternoon."
He sighs, but it's not as... sad? Tired? As it was before. Looks like I've done my job right.
"I totally knew that. I was just testing you."
"Really."
"Totally."
He checks his watch. It's routine by now. Breaks don't last very long. He looks up but before he tells me that he needs to go, I nod because I know already, so he doesn't really have to say it.
If anything, I could say that I really do try looking after him, even if he was raised to be independent. I don't doubt that he can take care of himself, keep his emotions in check, - in fact, I don't mind if he'd let himself break down every once in a while. It's healthy, isn't it? - it's just that I want him to know that if he ever needs anything, anything at all, I'm here to be his hero.
-x-x-x-
A/N: I'm pretty sure this was supposed to be really really angsty, but my mind had other ideas. x'D Also it's exam week! What am I doing writing fanfiction. Going back to studying now. :'D