[Fanfic] Drawn Together [3/3]
Title: Drawn Together [3/3]
Author: couryielle
Characters: America, England
Summary: usxuk 2010 Secret Santa Gift for malayu . Request: Alfred and Arthur. Stuck together in the student council room after hours. Whatever happens is up to you.
Warnings: Unbeta'd. OOC-ness. Crappy writing is crappy. The title was just for the sake of having a title. Mild swearing.
Words: 1,504
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
“Artie... I’m still hungry... and now it’s dark and cold as well...” Alfred complained in short gasps. Despite the thick layer of clothing they have on, it was impossible to completely keep the cold out. They sat on the floor huddled together, silently basking in what warmth each other gave off (and taking advantage of the internal warmth that crept throughout their body whenever they were near).
“Guess we can’t do anything but sleep on it. Can’t feel hunger when you’re knocked out,” Arthur advised, deliberately ignoring his own stomach’s furious rumbling. He stretched a little, then curled up on the hard floor. His hand was becoming increasingly troublesome. He didn’t tell Alfred, because he didn’t want him to worry more than he already does, but his hand felt so numb and swollen inside his mitten, and it was sore as hell whenever he moves it around. Aside from that, his head had started throbbing steadily since this afternoon. It must be because of that American, Arthur thought to himself, welcoming the slumber that was slowly claiming him...
“Hey, wait!” Alfred exclaimed, shoving his cellphone in front of Arthur, slightly blinding the Briton behind his thin eyelids.
“Bloody... what?!” Arthur muttered softly, irritably.
“Aren’t you supposed to not sleep when it’s ass-freezing cold? So you don’t die of hypothermia or something?”
“That’s only applicable when you’re lying outside in the snow. We’re not. we’re snug as bugs inside this bloody room. Go to bed, Alfred.”
Alfred sighed. There really was nothing else left to do. Nobody from the outside could make it to the library and open the door without getting torn to pieces by the storm first. Alfred curled up beside Arthur, his back against the latter’s back.
“Good night, Arthur.”
“Good night, Alfred.”
(Though, ‘good’ was a rather inappropriate adjective to describe their night.)
-----
Alfred’s eyes were shut super tight, but no sleep came to him. Aside from the biting cold (snug as bugs my ass, I’m turning into an icicle here!), his worries kept eating at him and kept him awake. Even though he tried his best to appear okay, it’s quite obvious to Alfred that Arthur was just feigning it, that his hand’s condition was not just ‘nothing’.
Even more bothersome, even if his back was turned to the Englishman, he could feel Arthur shaking violently behind him. Alfred turned and and propped himself up on one elbow and, using his mouth to remove his mitten, he placed his hand on the President’s forehead.
Arthur was burning up!
-----
Arthur woke up panting the moment Alfred’s skin touched his.
“Hey...” he wheezed, taking Alfred’s cold hand in his good, mittened one. “Your hand is gonna freeze! Put some goddamn mittens on! I can’t have people thinking I let you get sick or something...”
“You’re one to talk!” Alfred berated, sitting up so he can see Arthur better. “You’re burning with fever!”
“Heh, this is nothing,” Arthur exhaled, also sitting up to stretch a little (he was already awake anyway). His head felt like it was stuffed to bursting with cotton, but he still had his senses functional enough to discern that the storm outside has already died down (or at least stopped making so much noise).
“What time is it, anyway?” Arthur inquired. Alfred put on his glasses and consulted his cellphone for a brief moment.
“Iiiiit’s around 4 in the morning. Why do you ask?”
“Ah, just in time then,” Arthur said as he slowly got up and borrowed Alfred’s cellphone for a while.
“Wait, where are you going?” Alfred got up on his feet as well, poised and ready to catch should the wobbling President fall.
“To work, where else?” Arthur sighed heavily as he sat on his swivel chair, as if it had taken him Herculean effort to walk those few meters.
“Are you crazy?! You’re ill, for goodness’ sake!”
“Heh, like I haven’t used that excuse before.”
“And what about your hand? How can you work when you can’t even hold your pen without grimacing?”
“I’ll just leave the ones requiring my signature for later. I need to start demolishing these blasted piles of paper before Monday,” Arthur countered, darkly remembering that it was already a Saturday morning. He began to wonder if they were really ever gonna get out of the library now, or if they’d be frozen delights by the time they get discovered when the school week starts again. Before he could dwell on the thought, however, he felt strong American arms grab his torso and pin him to the floor (carefully managing the injured hand) in one swift movement.
“Wha--?!”
“I’m not gonna let you kill yourself, okay? Maybe a few more hours of sleep would straighten your mind out a little,” Alfred said firmly, as he stared down at the Englishman sandwiched between him and the floor. Seriously, was this guy mad? Working when he has a fever, a broken hand, and no food for half a day?
“Let go off me!” Arthur squirmed underneath the physically mightier American, knowing it was all in futility. “I’m not gonna kill myself, I always do this anyway!” he added sharply. Being the lone Student Council member, the only way Arthur had found to deal with his amazingly extensive workload was to wake up while the rest of the world was still asleep, and try to get some work done before the rest of the world wakes up and life moves on its fast pace.
“I know, damn it!” Alfred shot back. “You’re always working yourself senseless, day in and day out, and you keep pretending you’re perfectly okay with that! You’re tired, aren’t you? Aren’t you?! You’re so damn tired, and yet you keep on being your masochistic, push-over self! I don’t know, I can’t tell if you’re just plain crazy or whatnot! I can’t believe I’m not dragging you off to a vacation right this moment! Heaven knows what's gonna happen if you suddenly conk out on us all!” Alfred inhaled deeply afterwards, compensating for all the oxygen he just expended a while ago. He felt so light-headed. Never before had he laid bare such thoughts out before, and for some reason, he now felt free. He lay his head down on Arthur’s chest, panting for all he was worth.
“What do you want me to do?” Arthur whispered weakly. “I don’t want to push my responsibilities onto anyone else... I want everyone else to enjoy their school days as carefree as possible... I don’t want anyone else to worry...” and Arthur would have gone on, except he can’t because Alfred’s lips were suddenly pressed firmly against his.
“You’re not just crazy, you’re also an idiot!” Alfred admonished the stunned Arthur. “You want to take on the worries of other people so much? Do yourself and everyone else a favor, spare them from worrying about you breaking down one day and get an assistant! Get a Vice President! Get anyone to help you! I’m not letting you go until you promise you’ll stop overworking yourself and enjoy your life once in a while.”
Arthur was still speechless. At first, he thought that that overly-helpful American who had been frequenting the Student Council room was just out to distract him. Some people (whom he would rather not think about right now) seem bent on simply annoying the Student Council President (or authority in general) out of his wits, and he thought Alfred was one of them. He was not. There were many others who had offered to help Arthur with his work, but they all faded away with some lame excuse after a few days. Not Alfred.
“Alfred...” Arthur whispered breathlessly.
“What?”
“I promise... to get a Vice President... if you get off me and stop asphyxiating me.”
“Ah! Sorry!” Alfred cried, rolling off the half-crushed President.
“How the heck do you even expect me to work properly if you paralyze the lower half of my body?” Arthur spluttered as he sat up, giving an involuntary shiver as all the warmth he felt before got replaced by the subzero reality. Alfred chuckled and put his hand on Arthur’s forehead.
“Looks like your fever got a lot worse! Can’t crawl back to work like that!” Alfred smiled like they weren’t stuck in a freezing room with nothing to eat or drink for 12 hours. Speaking of freezing rooms...
Alfred dashed outside impulsively. “Hey, the door’s open!!” he called back gleefully. Arthur walked slowly out the room, and beheld a spectacular sight. The sun was just rising, and it filtered through the frost patterns in the window, giving the library a glittery, almost ethereal shimmer (and the American twirling among the tables like he was in the middle of a meadow looked sparkling, but Arthur didn’t know how much of that was because of the light and how much was because of his fever-addled eyesight. All he knew was that things would never be the same again, and for once, he was glad of that.)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
...and so ends my trilogy of fail! Orz
This is the longest anything I've ever written in my entire life... and yes, I know the ending is rushed and stupid, but it's 10pm Christmas Eve, and I haven't eaten anything decent since this morning so please forgive the utter fail @A@
There could be an epilogue after Christmas to make up for the fail and to explain the story I just happened to insert at the very end and explain how in the world the title is related to the story. Maybe. Guh. Hungrrrr... @A@
Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, malayu ! Also, thanks to everyone who put up with my writings ^^
|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 ||
EDIT: Holy cow, I just reread midori_lover 's gift, and we used almost exactly the same line @A@
I swear to sweet unborn baby Jesus that it was unintentional, and I can't rephrase that line any other way @A@
Author: couryielle
Characters: America, England
Summary: usxuk 2010 Secret Santa Gift for malayu . Request: Alfred and Arthur. Stuck together in the student council room after hours. Whatever happens is up to you.
Warnings: Unbeta'd. OOC-ness. Crappy writing is crappy. The title was just for the sake of having a title. Mild swearing.
Words: 1,504
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
“Artie... I’m still hungry... and now it’s dark and cold as well...” Alfred complained in short gasps. Despite the thick layer of clothing they have on, it was impossible to completely keep the cold out. They sat on the floor huddled together, silently basking in what warmth each other gave off (and taking advantage of the internal warmth that crept throughout their body whenever they were near).
“Guess we can’t do anything but sleep on it. Can’t feel hunger when you’re knocked out,” Arthur advised, deliberately ignoring his own stomach’s furious rumbling. He stretched a little, then curled up on the hard floor. His hand was becoming increasingly troublesome. He didn’t tell Alfred, because he didn’t want him to worry more than he already does, but his hand felt so numb and swollen inside his mitten, and it was sore as hell whenever he moves it around. Aside from that, his head had started throbbing steadily since this afternoon. It must be because of that American, Arthur thought to himself, welcoming the slumber that was slowly claiming him...
“Hey, wait!” Alfred exclaimed, shoving his cellphone in front of Arthur, slightly blinding the Briton behind his thin eyelids.
“Bloody... what?!” Arthur muttered softly, irritably.
“Aren’t you supposed to not sleep when it’s ass-freezing cold? So you don’t die of hypothermia or something?”
“That’s only applicable when you’re lying outside in the snow. We’re not. we’re snug as bugs inside this bloody room. Go to bed, Alfred.”
Alfred sighed. There really was nothing else left to do. Nobody from the outside could make it to the library and open the door without getting torn to pieces by the storm first. Alfred curled up beside Arthur, his back against the latter’s back.
“Good night, Arthur.”
“Good night, Alfred.”
(Though, ‘good’ was a rather inappropriate adjective to describe their night.)
-----
Alfred’s eyes were shut super tight, but no sleep came to him. Aside from the biting cold (snug as bugs my ass, I’m turning into an icicle here!), his worries kept eating at him and kept him awake. Even though he tried his best to appear okay, it’s quite obvious to Alfred that Arthur was just feigning it, that his hand’s condition was not just ‘nothing’.
Even more bothersome, even if his back was turned to the Englishman, he could feel Arthur shaking violently behind him. Alfred turned and and propped himself up on one elbow and, using his mouth to remove his mitten, he placed his hand on the President’s forehead.
Arthur was burning up!
-----
Arthur woke up panting the moment Alfred’s skin touched his.
“Hey...” he wheezed, taking Alfred’s cold hand in his good, mittened one. “Your hand is gonna freeze! Put some goddamn mittens on! I can’t have people thinking I let you get sick or something...”
“You’re one to talk!” Alfred berated, sitting up so he can see Arthur better. “You’re burning with fever!”
“Heh, this is nothing,” Arthur exhaled, also sitting up to stretch a little (he was already awake anyway). His head felt like it was stuffed to bursting with cotton, but he still had his senses functional enough to discern that the storm outside has already died down (or at least stopped making so much noise).
“What time is it, anyway?” Arthur inquired. Alfred put on his glasses and consulted his cellphone for a brief moment.
“Iiiiit’s around 4 in the morning. Why do you ask?”
“Ah, just in time then,” Arthur said as he slowly got up and borrowed Alfred’s cellphone for a while.
“Wait, where are you going?” Alfred got up on his feet as well, poised and ready to catch should the wobbling President fall.
“To work, where else?” Arthur sighed heavily as he sat on his swivel chair, as if it had taken him Herculean effort to walk those few meters.
“Are you crazy?! You’re ill, for goodness’ sake!”
“Heh, like I haven’t used that excuse before.”
“And what about your hand? How can you work when you can’t even hold your pen without grimacing?”
“I’ll just leave the ones requiring my signature for later. I need to start demolishing these blasted piles of paper before Monday,” Arthur countered, darkly remembering that it was already a Saturday morning. He began to wonder if they were really ever gonna get out of the library now, or if they’d be frozen delights by the time they get discovered when the school week starts again. Before he could dwell on the thought, however, he felt strong American arms grab his torso and pin him to the floor (carefully managing the injured hand) in one swift movement.
“Wha--?!”
“I’m not gonna let you kill yourself, okay? Maybe a few more hours of sleep would straighten your mind out a little,” Alfred said firmly, as he stared down at the Englishman sandwiched between him and the floor. Seriously, was this guy mad? Working when he has a fever, a broken hand, and no food for half a day?
“Let go off me!” Arthur squirmed underneath the physically mightier American, knowing it was all in futility. “I’m not gonna kill myself, I always do this anyway!” he added sharply. Being the lone Student Council member, the only way Arthur had found to deal with his amazingly extensive workload was to wake up while the rest of the world was still asleep, and try to get some work done before the rest of the world wakes up and life moves on its fast pace.
“I know, damn it!” Alfred shot back. “You’re always working yourself senseless, day in and day out, and you keep pretending you’re perfectly okay with that! You’re tired, aren’t you? Aren’t you?! You’re so damn tired, and yet you keep on being your masochistic, push-over self! I don’t know, I can’t tell if you’re just plain crazy or whatnot! I can’t believe I’m not dragging you off to a vacation right this moment! Heaven knows what's gonna happen if you suddenly conk out on us all!” Alfred inhaled deeply afterwards, compensating for all the oxygen he just expended a while ago. He felt so light-headed. Never before had he laid bare such thoughts out before, and for some reason, he now felt free. He lay his head down on Arthur’s chest, panting for all he was worth.
“What do you want me to do?” Arthur whispered weakly. “I don’t want to push my responsibilities onto anyone else... I want everyone else to enjoy their school days as carefree as possible... I don’t want anyone else to worry...” and Arthur would have gone on, except he can’t because Alfred’s lips were suddenly pressed firmly against his.
“You’re not just crazy, you’re also an idiot!” Alfred admonished the stunned Arthur. “You want to take on the worries of other people so much? Do yourself and everyone else a favor, spare them from worrying about you breaking down one day and get an assistant! Get a Vice President! Get anyone to help you! I’m not letting you go until you promise you’ll stop overworking yourself and enjoy your life once in a while.”
Arthur was still speechless. At first, he thought that that overly-helpful American who had been frequenting the Student Council room was just out to distract him. Some people (whom he would rather not think about right now) seem bent on simply annoying the Student Council President (or authority in general) out of his wits, and he thought Alfred was one of them. He was not. There were many others who had offered to help Arthur with his work, but they all faded away with some lame excuse after a few days. Not Alfred.
“Alfred...” Arthur whispered breathlessly.
“What?”
“I promise... to get a Vice President... if you get off me and stop asphyxiating me.”
“Ah! Sorry!” Alfred cried, rolling off the half-crushed President.
“How the heck do you even expect me to work properly if you paralyze the lower half of my body?” Arthur spluttered as he sat up, giving an involuntary shiver as all the warmth he felt before got replaced by the subzero reality. Alfred chuckled and put his hand on Arthur’s forehead.
“Looks like your fever got a lot worse! Can’t crawl back to work like that!” Alfred smiled like they weren’t stuck in a freezing room with nothing to eat or drink for 12 hours. Speaking of freezing rooms...
Alfred dashed outside impulsively. “Hey, the door’s open!!” he called back gleefully. Arthur walked slowly out the room, and beheld a spectacular sight. The sun was just rising, and it filtered through the frost patterns in the window, giving the library a glittery, almost ethereal shimmer (and the American twirling among the tables like he was in the middle of a meadow looked sparkling, but Arthur didn’t know how much of that was because of the light and how much was because of his fever-addled eyesight. All he knew was that things would never be the same again, and for once, he was glad of that.)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
...and so ends my trilogy of fail! Orz
This is the longest anything I've ever written in my entire life... and yes, I know the ending is rushed and stupid, but it's 10pm Christmas Eve, and I haven't eaten anything decent since this morning so please forgive the utter fail @A@
There could be an epilogue after Christmas to make up for the fail and to explain the story I just happened to insert at the very end and explain how in the world the title is related to the story. Maybe. Guh. Hungrrrr... @A@
Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, malayu ! Also, thanks to everyone who put up with my writings ^^
|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 ||
EDIT: Holy cow, I just reread midori_lover 's gift, and we used almost exactly the same line @A@
I swear to sweet unborn baby Jesus that it was unintentional, and I can't rephrase that line any other way @A@