dug up a piece of handwritten usuk fanfiction I wrote quite awhile back XD should be a few years old I don't even- lol. gonna type up what was written (maybe edit a little along the way), including the little notes I had at the beginning (because it is awesome and I kinda don't believe I could write like that) :'D

( Alfred is the kind of guy you read about in stories, novels and (fan)fiction. )

UKUS JUST MADE BIEBER AWESOMEEEEEE *O*

http://soundcloud.com/kimyoshiko/jb-vs-uk-absolutely-invincible

/sparkles.

HETALIA FANDOM IS DA BOMB /o/

( Arthur is on the couch, legs crossed, back straight, hand on the spine of a book, fingers of his other hand splayed delicately, politely across the pages of his book. )

He wakes to the (familiar) sounds of shuffling feet, creaking of the sofa and the flip of a page. Faint, but they are there. Orange light filters in from where the door doesn't quite meet the floor.

The warmth beside him is missing too.

Buries his face deeper into the pillow for a second, two, flips and grabs the digital clock next to his bed (too large for one, just right for two). Squinting, he reads the digits 2:37.

Inhales cold night air, to wake his brain up, takes a step off his bed and pads to the living room.



Arthur is on the couch, legs crossed, back straight, hand on the spine of a book, fingers of his other hand splayed delicately, politely across the pages of his book. It's a hardback, and Alfred rubs his eyes and thinks it's that new history on World War Two he bought kind-of-not-really on impulse today.

"Did I wake you?" Soft, accented, Arthur's eyes never leave the book as he speaks.

"Yeah." Alfred doesn't expect an apology. Arthur's not going to give one, but it's okay.

"Mm." Flip of a page. Arthur's eyes stop tracking the words. He's still a little shy, Alfred knows, so he takes a stride, two, sits himself down on the couch, ends up sprawling half on Arthur's shoulders, his legs dangling off the couch. He nuzzles into Arthur's neck, the scent of tea and firs prickling his senses. Arthur always smelled of firs around Christmas time, they had quite a lot in Scotland.

"Put on a shirt, would you? You'll catch a cold like this." Alfred just grunts in response, sees Arthur's eyes flitting from side to side and knows Arthur has already forgotten the remark he made. He was getting a little cold though, so he stretches and picks up the mug of tea Arthur has on the glass table. Figures he'd bring the coaster out, no wonder Alfred didn't hear the clink of porcelain being set on the table earlier.

Gulps a mouthful of tea down, a smile spreading across his lips as his body warmed. He was half-expecting Arthur to chide him for drinking so much of his tea but it never comes. It makes Alfred smile that much wider.

So they sit there, comfortable in each other's warmth and embrace, in Alfred's New York apartment with a modern look and too-old books. Some of Alfred's colleagues (citizens) tell him the books soften the sleek edges of his furniture, gives the whole place a soul, is a good blend of the old and the new. Alfred just smiles his Hollywood smile and thanks them for the compliments. The books aren't his, most of them anyway. He likes that one comment of how they give the place soul, some sort of meaning.

He opens his eyes and looks at Arthur.

The other nation is engrossed in his book by now, a slight frown forming on his features as he reads, thinks, contemplates and recalls all at once. Alfred reaches up to smooth at Arthur's brows, the latter immediately relaxing and leaning into his touch. Arthur sighs softly, eyes sliding shut, lips still set in a thin line.

"What's wrong, hun?" Alfred whispers, fingers moving to stroke at Arthur's cheek.

"Just thinking. Of the war. Wars." His eyes slip open, just a crack, green eyes gleaming in the moonshine. "I've learnt... I don't want much." Arthur's gaze move to the mug of tea, a little too cold to drink now, to the book in his hands, life and lives inked on a page, and then -

Green eyes stare into blue. Alfred's breath catches and he feels like his heart almost stopped when Arthur looks at him, with something indescribable in his eyes, maybe this is love, he wonders absently.

Alfred smiles, small and soft and with a tinge of wryness to hide his embarrassment, "Guess you have everything you want now, huh?"

Arthur merely hums, slides closer and tucks his head under Alfred's chin.

"I suppose so."