Author: H.R Again PM
"...They think alike." I haven't spent a single Christmas with Arthur since the X-Mas we got together; because of work or something else. This year it WILL change, because I have to do something for him. USUK, XMAS, R/R -Reupload-Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - America & England/Britain - Words: 5,117 - Favs: 5 - Published: 02-26-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7875908
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N CHRISTMAS FIC TIME!
This idea came to me because I did a similar thing for my family. I'll put the story in the end A/N.
So this is for my OTP USUK. And even though there's a lot of Christmas stories coming out, I wanted to add mine in the mix.
So, without further ado. FLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUFFF!
Title: Great Minds.
Warnings: Fluffy near the end; random POV switching about halfway through :D
Characters: England –Arthur, America-Alfred
10 years this Christmas we been together, but since that night we have never spent a Christmas together because of ours jobs, the flight plans or something. Every. Single. Year. I planned on changing that. USUK Slight Franada
I felt the lump in my throat rise, but I fought against it and managed to continue talking.
"Yes Alfred, I understand. It's not your fault the snow is so bad."
"Maybe if I jump in a fire everything will heat up and the planes will run." I could hear the hope in his idea, and I forced myself to not allow it to fill me with hope.
"Alfred, love, as much as I want you here, I don't want a burnt Alfred for my Christmas present."
"Why can't you just use magic to get over here?" I slumped against the couch and threw my head back with a loud sigh and rustle of my clothes against the leather.
"You know what the faeries did. They lost my spell book, and I don't remember the spell of teleportation. Even if I did, I wouldn't chance it without my spell book." I lifted my hand and sat up a little straighter. I grabbed my laptop but didn't open it. I sighed loudly again into the iPhones' mic.
"Alfred. It just never works out does it?" I heard a faraway voice coming from his end, it sounded like a intercom. "Are you at work?" I could hear his breath hitch slightly but his voice came out even and normal, so I brushed it off as a hallucination.
"Yeah, I'm at work hiding in the bathroom to talk to you."
I smirked. "Sounds like a romantic atmosphere if I've ever heard one."
He laughed and I could hear the echo against the walls, he wasn't lying, definitely in a bathroom.
"Only the best environments for you Artie." I heard a slight click before a voice that wasn't Alfred filled the room he was in.
"Alfred Jones, please come to Gate 301." I frowned, looking up from the laptop on my knees.
"What was that? Gate 301?" Alfred laughed again, but it was off slightly.
"My new boss is kinda weird, he calls all the offices gates. I'm needed in 'Gate' 301. So I need to go to….." There was a pause, mostly likely he was trying to think of who's office it was.
"Rebekah's office, she's making the schedules, I better go Artie." I heard a squeak like a door opening and the quick rush of air into the mic, like him blowing into it. I heard a quiet rushed "Shh!" So quiet I doubted it was really there, that it was just the trick of my mind.
"Alright Alfred, love, do have a good Christmas Eve….I'll call you in the morning?"
"Sounds good to me Iggy, love you."
"As I love you Alfred." A soft click was heard and I knew he'd hung up. I sat there, the IPhone against my ear a second longer before putting it on the table. Another fucking year spent on different continents. I looked over at the small velvet box, which was a deep navy colour.
No way for him to get here, no way for me to-
WAIT A SECOND. I'M THE UNITED FUCKING KINGDOM.
I HAVE MY OWN JET.
I flipped open the Acer and turned it on, waiting a painful amount of time for the stupid thing to boot up. After it finished it waiting the maximum time to give me control of the trackpad before I got so angry I threw the damned thing, I hurriedly opened up my email client, rushing out the digital letter to Daniel, my pilot, saying I needed a flight to New York before Christmas night. I spun the tiny box anxiously between my fingers before he replied saying he could leave tomorrow by 9. I sent him a thank you and that was perfect. I shut the computer down and put it back on the oak table. I practically flew (which isn't impossible you know, I AM a magician) to my bedroom, velvet box in hand. I threw in a healthy supply of clothes; mostly because I was too giddy to make frivolous decisions like that I'd wear, at least this time. After about 10 minutes I finished packing and put the tiny box within one of the inside pockets of the black suitcase. I zipped the bag up, and put it by the front door. I headed back toward my bedroom, full intent to turn in. I glanced down at my watch, it must be late, and I always take forever packing…
I turned off the bedroom light before flopping down on the couch once more. I laid there for a while, staring at the ceiling think of something I could do until it would be a reasonable time to turn in. 7:34 wasn't late enough for me. Even if I was someone who could easily wake up early, which I preferred; more time to work and get stuff done, but I was really a night owl. Which then again may or may not be surprising. I did tend to stay out late during my….rebellious years. Though they were fun as hell, those years were sort of a disgrace to the gentlemen name I'd tried so hard to build up for myself.
I looked back over at the clock.
Only 4 hours until I have a chance of actually getting to sleep when I go to bed.
With a heavy sigh I glanced over at the TV; I didn't really feel like watching the BBC at the moment…perhaps a movie? But that would only last for about two hours… Then it dawned on me, the Frog had been secretly recording Alfred and I for the extent of our relationship, presumably for some form of blackmail or another, but Matthew had been merciful and given over the tapes (without Francis' knowing) about a month ago and we'd yet to watch them. He also apologized for his boyfriend's creepiness.
That would be a perfect way to kill a couple hours.
So I went and fetched the box in the corner of the living room and brought it into the TV room. After fiddling with the wires, camera, and ports on the Cello TV I finally got both the picture and the audio working, bringing the party from ten years ago to a brilliant show. I stood up and sat back down on the couch, my eyes never leaving the screen as I figured out what was happening.
Alfred and I were sitting on the couch at the Christmas Eve party, Al was looking up at the camera as Francis filmed and asked why the two of us haven't danced the whole time. I, who had been looking at something off-camera, looked up at Francis and spat out a "Because we haven't, what the hell is it to you?" Before Al stood up, pulling me up with him. Francis plopped himself down on the couch and watched us as we stood on the dance floor facing each other for an awkward amount of time. Finally we took each other's hand, Alfred's arm went to just above my hip, mine on his shoulder. Damnit, I was the girls part, I forgot about that. Alfred's waltzing lessons I gave him when he was younger kicked in, and we danced to the slower paced song France had flowing from the surround-sound speakers throughout the room.
We practically glided across the floor, twirling and moving in harmony to Vanessa Carlton's London. We both were looking at each other, our eyes scarcely leaving the others. I closed my eyes for a moment and I could see Alfred's looking down on mine that night. I stood up without realizing it and danced to the slightly static-filled song coming from my speakers. I danced; my arms out and up like they were that night. The song started to slow to an end and I slowly sat down, knowing what was coming.
Waste away the days. Waiting on a new age.
Alfred leaned forward and kissed me, catching me off guard as I froze. He saw my frozen face, filled with confusion and fear and he let go of me, taking a step back as his face mirrored mine. France stood up, the camera suddenly gaining 5 feet of height.
"Arth-" My past-self yanked him behind me as I practically ran to the foyer. France ran to catch what was going to happen, and he rounded the corner, camera pointed directly at us, as I wrapped my arms around Alfred and brought my lips to his.
I heard France gasp loudly, obviously not expecting that, but the past self of I didn't look up. Alfred pulled me closer and slightly up, wrapping his arms around my waist. After a couple more seconds we broke apart the camera moved, Francis stepping back to avoid being seen. It had the opposite effect, me seeing the movement out of the corner of my eye and immediately chasing after him, screaming something along the lines of;
"Give me that bloody camera!" As Francis screamed - running away - the camera cutting off after a couple seconds of blurred colours.
After a second of blue-screen-of-death it showed Alfred and I standing looking out over the balcony of his second story.
"You think it'd hurt if I fell into all that?" He had his arms hanging over the edge of the banister. I was standing next him, peering over into the fifteen feet of snow below.
"I don't know. Let find out!" I pushed him over the edge. Matthew, the one filming if memory serves right, let out a gasp. The camera was walked over to the edge, looking out and down at the flailing-Alfred-shaped hole below.
"You dead down there, love?" I asked, minimal concern in my tone.
"Fucking perfect." The voice was muffled, but there.
"That's wonderful, is it cold?"
"Why don't you find out for yourself!" Alfred sprung out of the sheet of white, grabbing onto the banister and pulling himself up enough to grab my hands and pull me up and over the railing, letting out a most-definitely manly cry.
Mattie looked over to me sitting on Alfred beneath me, glaring up at the camera.
"This better not go on Youtube!" I screamed at the camera as the picture died away in blue-screen-of-death.
The video jumped to life, showing myself sitting at my kitchen table, looking up as France filmed me drinking my tea, Alfred sitting next to me looking god-awful tired and drinking coffee. The light coming in the beige curtain out of frame told me it was early morning.
"Must you do that? It's really not even my birthday."* My past-self glared at Francis for a moment before rolling my eyes with a sigh and continuing to drink it.
"Oh course I do, Angleterre! It's your birthday! Just be happy I didn't film earlier." My face exploded in red as I shot a death-glare over my cup at France. Alfred sat there smirking into his coffee, not saying a word.
"Shut up frog." I muttered, still glaring. Matthew stepped in view, before smiling at the camera, and shut it off.
It didn't pause before rolling into the next clip, me sitting at the table, France and Matthew across from me, a couple nations in and out of frame making an ominous chatter soundtrack as I sat in the same spot as previous, drinking my tea.
I smirked; this time around I knew what was going to happen.
Alfred was behind me, fiddling with the cake I had made with Alfred. All the nations were as far away as possible from Alfred's fiddling on top of the stove behind me. He looked up at France and with a nod and a smirk; the frog announced it was time for cake. This announcement was immediately followed by a chorus of moans, screams and even the noise of someone crying.
I frowned. It was as funny to me as it was the first time.
Alfred picked the cake up and walked behind me, lifting the cake up above my head. I looked up, while Sealand next to me grabbed my tea, holding it in his lap and trying his best not to snicker. Which from his look of almost-giggles to pure disgust when the cake was put down in front of me, I guess he figured a way to not giggle.
I looked up at Alfred once more, my hand reaching for the missing cup and realizing it was gone.
"Where's my tea?" Alfred smiled down at me and pointed to the spot in front of me. I looked back down, my eyes not on me as I watched Alfred's face break a grin as he shoved my face into the cake.
I lifted my face, now COVERED in vanilla cake. Icing in my eyebrows and hair.
"ALFRED!" I screamed, reaching back as a group of laughs broke out, someone even yelling;
"Perfect use of cake!" Alfred had jumped back the second after he pushed me into a mess, so I grabbed at nothing but air. After a moment Sealand poked me, whispering before breaking out into laughter
"Here's your tea." I cracked a grin before moving up and leaving for the bathroom, yelling over my shoulder;
"Good thing I made another!" The room went silent other than Italy's screaming cries.
I returned with everyone looking grim, they knew the same trick wouldn't work twice. Alfred had gotten the cake during my absence, rather slowly because of how long it took him to return to frame. I sat back down and smiled as I took a long drink from my tea. I put the cup down, still smirking because unless the cake burst into flames** or something there was no way that the cake was going to be ruined again. Alfred broke into a grin, taking off the bottom left corner of the crispy cake behind me, walking up to the back of my chair. I looked up as he shoved the chunk into my face. My smile dropped as someone screamed; "CAKE FIGHT!" Sealand grabbed a fistful and threw it at innocent Matthew, who'd been leaning against the dishwasher across from the stove the whole time.
Matthew's eye went lightly purple for a split second before he cracked a grin and grabbed a fistful as well, sending it flying into the swarm of nations in the living room with a beautiful over-hand. France had gotten up and grabbed some as well, sending Alfred's glasses flying on impact. The rest of the scene as it unfolded went by in a speedy blur.
I laid back, curled up in a Union Jack blanket as the scene stopped.
The clip died before switching to a security-camera-height shot of the hallway in front of the meeting room the eight of us used for our more casual meets. After a couple seconds the door opened slightly, showing me peeking out into the hallway, looking around for anyone before creeping out.
My hair was beyond disheveled, my clothes in need of a damn good ironing, and my tie no-where to find. Alfred followed me, hair gone amuck except Nantucket, his bomber jacket hanging off one shoulder and his tie gone as well. The clip ended with America smirking knowingly at the camera in the corner.
It continued, random shots of the two of us, as normal as us watching TV (seriously France, wtf?) to us at parties and whatnot gatherings. I fell asleep as some point I don't remember, the TV turning itself off at one do to the auto timer I'd set when I'd first got it. The whole house had no lights on and nothing was running. The whole house was quiet, not a creature was stirring, except that asshole opening the door.
No lights on, the car still in the driveway, and no glow from the TV; good he was asleep.
I opened the front door with the key he'd given me forever ago, careful not to be too loud because Artie had a tendency to fall asleep on the couch watching TV. And upon further looking, I found myself smiling at the sight; Arthur was asleep on the long part of the L shaped black leather couch, his head against a random pillow and his body curled up, his knees to his chest under a Union Jack blanket. His arms were sprawled out beside him stretching toward the edge of the couch on the shorter end of the L. His soft breathing was the only noise in the room minus the sounds that a house makes a night. I leaned over and kissed his forehead gently; I didn't want to wake him yet.
I left the room and went out into the garage. When I stepped out into the dark room I could see nothing but random, odd shaped figures. These turned out to be just stacks of boxes and whatnot I which learned when I flicked the light on. After a moment of searching I spotted the tall box I was looking for. I pulled it effortlessly into the house, trying my best not to wake the sleeping brit the room over. I put the tree up in the center of the living room, all the while being almost silent, a miracle for me. The fake tree had lights already hung around its branches, but I went and found another two strings of lights. After wrapping them around the tree and plugging it in the tree looked amazing, despite the lack of ornaments.
Searching once more I found a plastic snap-lock box FILLED with packages of ornaments, each having 3-5 in each, about 50 boxes in all. Among those were glass ornaments with different countries flags, the UK flag the biggest one, the American flag the second biggest. I picked the box up with ease and carried it in. I glanced at the time and saw it was 5 in the morning; I'd been here an hour.
I started to hum 'Rocking around the Christmas Tree' quietly, not wanting to wake Arthur. I did a little dance and shake of my hips as I half-danced, searching the tree for a good spot for each individual ornament. After about an hour of this EVERY SINGLE ORNAMENT POSSIBLE was on that tree. With the lights on and the 'tree' shining in all its glory; it hardly looked like a tree anymore, more like a pyramid of glass ornaments. Smirking at the sight, I turned and went back out to the garage. I found outdoor and indoor lights, both of which went with me back inside.
I went to work setting up the indoor lights and tinsel stretching the length of the living room, TV room, Iggy's office, and the hallway to the guest bedroom. The tinsel was laid to be like a drop-line on a fancy cake, meeting at the point where the wall and the ceiling met, dropping down a couple inches, before coming back up to repeat the drop. The tinsel was mainly the color of Iggy's eyes; a brilliant shade of green, with patches of sparkly red here and there. I stepped back and slowly turned in a circle, taking a look at the room. I straightened out a couple leaning stacks of finished paperwork on his desk in the office, making sure there were no stray pens or pencils out and about. I was done, so I left the decoration of the interior, and went outside to start there.
That lasted a whole 5 minutes. DO YOU KNOW HOW COLD LONDON IS AT 7? ON CHRISTMAS? IT'S FUCKING COLD.
So I put the exterior lights back in the box before digging through a bunch of other Christmas stuff. I grabbed the stockings we'd made. The first Christmas (after we'd gotten together) we had made each other stockings. Cheesy, I know, but it was fun to do. I had made Iggy's stocking simple. It was an emerald color, with 'England' and 'Arthur' (one word on each side) and a pair of thickly-drawn eyebrows on the top of the stocking, on the fake-fur trim. Iggy was annoyed at first but everytime he saw them he'd laugh. Arthur had made my stocking with a lot more thought, with it being sky-blue and fine needle-point stitching of my name; human and country, with a stitched pair of glasses underneath. The loop in the top corner of the stocking was wheat-gold. "It's Nantucket!" he'd said, which made me laugh everytime I saw my stocking as well. Now of course, even if they had exchanged stockings and presents, it wasn't on Christmas Eve/Day, (as stated earlier) we'd never spent a Christmas together.
I hung the stockings up over the fireplace; tempted to light it, it was cold in Artie's house. Even with the damn heat on! I resisted the urge and went to the kitchen, where the last thing I had to go was. I looked at the time-reading on the stove.
I got time.
I looked through the closet for a pre-made cookie mix.
There was one box in the very bottom and very back of the closet. I closed the door and walked over to the fridge and stove. I flipped over the box, searching for an expiration date.
May 28, 1954.
…Well, were nations, we can't die! And ANYTHING is better than Iggy's food; even if I'd never say that to him. I followed the instructions, after mixing by hand so as to not wake my brit, I stuck the gooey batter into circles and onto the tray.
"Hey, stove, I know Iggy treats you like shit when I'm not here, and always blames you for his cooking, but will you work for me? It's very special to me."
'I'm talking to a fucking stove…..' I set the timer for 30 minutes, turning to start preparing Arthur's tea. I finished the tea (after much trial and error and wasted tea; much to Iggy's unknown horror) and left the cookies to cool off onto the stove. I set the tea down in front of Iggy, sure that the smell would wake him up. I left the room to do my final surprise.
The first thing I thought of.
My eyes fluttered open, seeing the simple cup of tea placed on the tea table in front of me. I sat up with a confused face, the blanket sliding off my shoulder as I stared at the cup. It smelled fresh; so I picked it up an cautiously took a sip. It was fresh, and Earl Gray, my favourite- wait….who made this?
I stood up and peered into the kitchen, smelling something baking for the first time. Also noticing the tinsel around me.
"What the hell?"
I looked out into the living room.
"What the…" I looked over the bright lit up tree in the center of the room, my eyes taking it in from the top ornaments to the bottom ornaments were Alfred sat smiling, presents around the base, my cat-
"AL!" I screamed at him, his smile breaking into a grin as he ran over to me, hugging me as if he hadn't seen me in weeks.
It had actually been months BUT WHO GIVES A FUCK? ALFRED WAS HERE! HERE! ONCHRISTMAS!
We stood like that for a while, just grinning like fools and enjoying our embrace. We pulled apart, our foreheads against each other; still grinning.
"Hai." He said finally.
"Hai." I repeated.
"You know…I was planning on flying over this morning….which reminds me, I should probably call Daniel and cancel our flight." I pulled away from Alfred's arms and searched for my mobile. I quickly called and left a voicemail of apology. Apparently, I was talking to much because Alfred came over and shouted into the iPhone; "HE DOESN'T NEED TO GO CAUSE I'M HERE ~" before he ended the call.
I glared up at him but he just smiled and left my side to sit by the ornament sculpture. It didn't deserve to be called a tree with that many ornaments.
I sighed, setting the mobile down on the counter and joining Al on the floor. He shoved a wrapped box In my face and the rest was a blur of shiny paper and expensive gifts. It was 9 and we were munching on cookies, sitting on my couch, about to open our stockings. I had slipped the ring from my language into his stocking when he wasn't looking.
He sat back down from fetching a cookie, I was about to take a bite when he laughed and spoke;
"These expired in 1954." I sputtered, putting the cookie down on the plate in front of me, looking horrified at Alfred.
"What?" He asked, eating one whole. I looked at him disgusted and fearful.
"Alfred…..please go barf that back up. I don't want a dead boyfriend for Christmas."
He looked at me with his own expression of horror.
"And waste perfectly good cookies? I'M NOT BULIMIC!"
"THEY EXPIRED IN 1954. THEY AREN'T 'GOOD COOKIES'!" I yelled at him, genuinely concerned about this.
"Were nations were not going to die. And if I'm going to die-"He grabbed my wrists and pulled me down into a kiss. A short one because I jumped back in surprise.
"You'll die to!" He smirked at me and I lightly hit his forehead, making him look at me while I sat back down.
"I've been eating them too, if they're going to kill us both, then the damage is already done. And don't talk like that. I just got you back from your boss…" He sat down next to me, pulling me into his arms and burying his face into my hair.
"'M Sorry. It's Christmas and I'm being a downer. Why don't you open your stocking?" I looked up at him; a dust almost undoubtedly dusting my cheeks, there was no way my plans would be ruined again.
"Why don't you open yours, love?" My smile looked normal but held a underlying tone of 'I will murder you in your sleep if you don't'.
"Why don't you open your Arthur?" His voice was rising.
"YOU'RE THE GUEST. Let's open your first!"
After a moment of us glaring at each other we both decided simultaneously we would get each get our stocking and open them at the same time.
Which resulted in both of us pulling out a small box, the two almost identical except for the colour. The one in Alfred's hand a deep blue and the one in mine a red. We both stared at the box in our hands, looking at the others', and back to ours. We were like a mirror, both of us opening the boxes carefully and slowly, as if they would explode if we didn't. We each drew out the ring in the box we were holding, and showed it to the other.
"Well you know what they say about great minds..."
That they certainly don't think alike and they flush the rings down the drain!
No, I kid, BUT SERIOUSLY.
OMG. My brain, its over there, over here, and up there.
*points, points, points*
Writing this the Saturday of Christmas Eve and I'm like
I CAN DO THIS! I CAN TOTALLY FINISH THIS!
*3 days later*
There was so much crack sentences going on behind the scenes, it wasn't even funny.
Anyways. Back to normal A/N time.
*IGGY HAS NO FUCKING BIRTHDAY! GAHDFJRFABFJUHQAGBFUHJFBQUJHA!
So I chose: British Day in Germany on April 21st.
Why there is a british day in GERMANY? (Germany: Trollface)
**Knowing Iggy's cooking….you never fucking know.
Anyways ~ SANDY HELPED ME! Like this much: *make a tiny amount with fingers*
She sucks at writing but is epic at editing.
Nah, I kid. But I AM. The better writer *trollface*
Sandy: *RUSSIA GLARE.*
This thing is way too long.
So the story behind it is our christmas tree (I am a teen, I live with my parents and older sister for this long *shows tiny amount* (cause shes leaving me for stupid college) had lights on it (that I put up with no help for the first time) and no ornaments.)
I was like "Ornaments, were we are going, we don't need. Ornaments."
(Which is true cause we went to grandparents house)
But at 3 in the morning I snuck out of my cave- I mean room and put the ornaments one by one. Untill dad woke up and was like….WTF, *goes and plays WoW.* and Sandy walked out and was high (on pain meds cause she got her teeth yanked out of her mouth 2 days prior) and was like.
I ignored her.
So…yup that's the story behind that.
If you made it this far you get this!
A invitation to the next fic I'm writing, which will be for xZerochanx on Youtube with Britannia UK…..
Yup, lost of fun this year for my writing 'career' this year… *tear*
*rants some more*