[sweethearts week] Caprica and Picon (fanfic and some art)
Title: Caprica and Picon
Genre: Sci-fi, Drama, slight Romance, Angst
Word Count: 1405
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for one little near-smutty moment.
Summary: [Battlestar Galactica/Axis Powers Hetalia crossover] Nothing’s going to happen to them.
Notes: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or Battlestar Galactica (2003).
BSG is set in an solar system far away from the one Hetalia is set in. This system consists of twelve habitable planets - the Twelve Colonies, with a democratic government similar to the ones found in the U.S. today. The capital is on the planet Caprica, represented here by America. Caprica is perhaps the most advanced colony out of the twelve, and Picon, represented by England, is second most advanced (I’m only saying this because those two are the first two attacked in the miniseries and are also most prominently mentioned throughout).
Also. Unbeta'd story is unbeta'd. Mistakes are mine.
~~
The meeting went longer than expected. By the time President Adar dismissed all of the Colonies, it was well into the afternoon and the sun was casting dramatic shadows over the Caprica City Riverwalk.
Alfred F. Jones, known to those closest to him as Caprica, was loading all of his papers into his briefcase as the others walked out of the meeting room. Sighing tiredly as he closed the briefcase, he turned to face the door.
“Hey, Alfred,” a voice said. Alfred turned to see Arthur Kirkland, the embodiment of Picon.
“What, Arthur?” he asked, and he winced internally at how fatigued his voice sounded.
“Do you have plans this evening?”
“No, why?” Blue eyes looked into green. Arthur’s cheeks colored a little.
“I was just wondering if I could spend the night at your house. The ship sent to take me back to Picon got delayed and I didn’t really want to spend money on a hotel room for one night.”
Alfred’s face broke into a grin. “Of course you can, Arty. What kind of hero would I be if I didn’t let a friend stay over?”
Arthur’s cheeks went a shade brighter. “Thank you, Alfred. Mind you, I was only asking you that question as a friend.”
They walked out of the conference room.
~~
The sky was a myriad of pinks and oranges as the sun made shilouettes with the skyscrapers of Caprica City.
“Was it really necessary for us to re-network our defense systems?” Arthur asked as they walked through Riverwalk plaza.
Alfred laughed. “You’re just being paranoid, Arty,” he said. “Dr. Gaius Baltar has been a tremendous help to us with that project.”
“Yes, yes, but I don’t trust that blonde woman who’s always with him. And don’t say that you think she’s harmless. You’d only be saying that because you think she’s hot and that she has your name.”
“Who knew.” Alfred said, as they walked by the fountain. “Bur remember Arthur, I have the seat of power. Out of all of us, I’m the one that calls the shots.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, Alfred, I know.” They walked by a woman and a man with a baby stroller; the woman was talking frantically to a policeman. “It’s just that… I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do, Arty, I do.” They passed by a monorail station, and Alfred stood by the entrance for a moment. So many years had passed since the bombing of that monorail, the one that had killed so many of his people.
They passed a coffee shop and a little community park that marked the entry into the residential district. The townhomes loomed overhead, side by side and each one a little different. The two men walked down the sidewalk until they reached one with a huge pecan tree in front of it. The house was neat-looking; it was painted white with a dark blue roof and a cheerful red door. The front lawn sported a daffodil garden.
Alfred pressed a few buttons on the side of his door, pressed his palm to the door itself, and then reached down to open it. Technology had taken them so far-he remembered one of his scientists who had invented a humanoid robot designed to act like a human and intended to fight humanity’s wars.
It wasn’t a humanoid robot that greeted him as soon as he stepped over the threshold, though.
~~
“Good afternoon, Alfred,” said the little hovering robot that had programmed the lights to turn on as soon as the door had opened.
“Good afternoon, Tony,” Alfred replied as Tony moved to close the door. “Tony, please grant permission for Arthur Kirkland to enter the house.”
Arthur stepped over the threshold as well, and Tony closed the door. “Good afternoon, Arthur Kirkland,” the robot said, and turned its attention to Alfred. “Alfred, what are your plans this evening?”
“Nothing special, Tony. If you’re going to make dinner, then please just make the usual.”
“Oh, I’d like some tea,” Arthur piped up. “But I want to make it myself. Do you happen to have a kettle anywhere?”
“Yeah, Arty, it’s somewhere in the cabinets in the kitchen. Come on, let’s go. Tony, could you prepare a guest room for Arthur here?”
As Tony hovered away, Alfred led the way to the kitchen.
~~
Within minutes, Arthur was setting a kettle to boil on the ultramodern stove. Alfred set his briefcase down on the newly-polished kitchen table and opened it, looking through some documents halfheartedly.
Arthur sat down across from him. “What’s ‘the usual’ for dinner?” he asked.
“Oh, a hamburger and fries. Tony makes some really good ones!”
“Typical.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell, all of my papers and things are already on the baggage ship over to Picon! My other boss had them sent over thinking I’d be back there tonight.”
“Governor Brown isn’t the brightest LED light in the display,” Alfred replied wryly as he skimmed over a paper on the new defense system.
Arthur glared at him. At that moment, the kettle whistled.
“I was just curious,” Alfred said as Arthur moved to turn off the heat, “but why are you doing this all the old-fashioned way?”
Arthur shook his head as he came back to the table with a steaming cup of tea. “I don’t know why, but I suddenly got this feeling this afternoon that I should, because the clock’s ticking.”
Alfred stared at him. “What?”
“There’s not much time left for us. I’m starting to feel… old.”
“You were always old, Arty.”
Arthur’s cheeks reddened. “Git! I didn’t mean it that way! I mean that sooner or later we’re going to cease to exsist, and I’ve started feeling it!”
“You’re just being paranoid. Nothing’s going to happen to us.”
~~
Nothing’s going to happen to us, Alfred thought, as he pushed Arthur up against a wall, raining kisses down his collarbone.
We’re perfectly safe, he thought, as Arthur unbuttons his shirt and slips his hands underneath to splay over his chest, cool touch stimulating warm skin.
The defense system isn’t faulty, he thought, as Arthur nibbles lightly at his ear. He arches, dimly wondering how they had moved from the hallway into his bedroom without him noticing anything.
No one’s going to attack us and we’re not going to die.
Arthur’s just feeling things.
We’re fine.
We’re-
He lost his ability to think after that, because Arthur was doing such horrifyingly wonderful things to him - yes, oh yes right there - and he was unable to do anything other than lie there as Arthur divested them of their clothing. Arthur’s hands were wandering; he was all teeth and lips and tongue and fingers - such skilled fingers - and pretty soon his thoughts were just a pleasant hum in the back of his mind.
“Arthur,” he moaned. “Arthur, please…”
And then the world went white.
~~
When Alfred came back to consciousness, he was lying in a tub full of goo.
“Where am I?” he called to the room, but no one answered except for the whirl of machinery. “What is this? Why am I here?”
He looked at himself. Scars. Scars all over. Wounds that would have been fatal on a human’s body were etched all over his and he was still alive.
Or was he?
So when footsteps resounded in the semidarkness and Picon - Arthur - came walking into the room, Alfred had never felt happier to see him.
“Arty!” he cried, attempting to clamber out of the tub.
“Alfred!” Arthur replied, his voice surprised. He grabbed a bathrobe and helped Alfred out, dressing him in it. “Do you have them, too?”
“What do I have?” His blue eyes expressed curiosity; when they looked into Arthur’s green ones, they saw shock and sadness.
“The scars. We were attacked.”
~~
Fifty thousand people left. That was all?
Alfred cried into Arthur’s shoulder, mourning the loss of his people. Arthur held him tight, and judging by the trembliness of his own voice and body he, too, was crying.
They had the same scars, but Alfred also bore one directly over his heart. His capital - no, their capital - had been destroyed in a nuclear bombing, with no survivors and the interim president of the remnants of humanity the Secretary of Education.
They clung onto each other as the world crumbled around their ears.
Caprica and Picon - Alfred and Arthur.
~~
Picture time!
I was drawing this in math class and this is how I got the inspiration to write that fanfic up there *point*. Yeah, originally Alfred was carrying the software and official paper stuff for the new defense system. And yes, papers and briefcases in BSG are cornerless.
Hahaha. This was my Brit boyfriend's idea - America and England changing roles. Kinda creepy.
Everyone loves genderbending XD