A/N: This is just some USUK fluff that I made for a contest on DA. I just started it about a half hour or hour ago and just finished it right now. I have no idea if it needs fixing. This is probably the smoothest story I have written lately though.
"You are such a stupid, ill-mannered, outrageous, sloppy, bloody fucking wanker! You can't do anything right! You are so lucky I came over!"
Arthur stood in front of Alfred, waving a sheet of paper in his face that he had picked up off the table. It was one the American recognized faintly as the print out he had collected from his college of all his grades in his classes. If it was that it would make a bit more sense to why the Englishman was so pissed off, as this last semester his grades had not been bad, but they were not admirable.
"I swear, what happened to all the study habits I taught you as a child! You used to get such good grades! And now all you get is C's!? I expected more from a 'hero'!" England fumed and slammed the paper down on the table.
"Sorry England, I have been really sick these last few months, it has been hard to actually do things, you know that…"
"That is no excuse! It is your own bloody fault that you got sick and you know it!" England slammed his fist down on the table on top of the paper again, why the hell England was so mad over his college grades he would never know. I mean he didn't even have to go to college because he was a country, so it wasn't that big of a deal if he wasn't getting the best grades possible. He could retake it anyway at a time when things were better anyway. Arthur seemed to have none of that though as he pulled Alfred down into the chair.
"I will be tutoring you from now on! Where are your books, we will start now!" Arthur began to storm into Alfred's room to find them and the American sighed. He was such a stuffed shirt.
"You know I was doing something when you came here…" he said with a sigh, though he smiled. At least he would be able to spend more time with him now without him insulting him every turn. Well actually that probably wouldn't stop him…
It had been a week sense he had started tutoring Alfred, and though he had seen an improvement in his grades, something seemed different about him. When he came to the meetings he wasn't as enthusiastic, and often slept next to Greece. He had not been at the top of his game for a while, but even when America was sick he was not like this. Arthur had tried to catch up to him after the World Meeting, but all he said was that he had some other meeting to go to and that he would see him after words for his tutoring before he wondered off sleepily, probably not even half aware of where he was going.
"Alfred we need to talk!"
"Oh, no have my grades dropped?!" the American flinched a bit at the other's loud voice and that worried England more. Was he possibly being too hard on the American?
"No Alfred, your grades are decent as hard as it is for me to believe." He said in a matter of fact tone, " But you have been acting strange lately, you have been falling asleep in Meetings, you haven't been inhaling food in that disgusting manner you normally do, what is wrong?!"
America smiled, so England was worried over him. "Nah, I am fine, just this sickness is pretty bad…" he said not very forcefully though, so it was hard to believe.
"Well get more sleep then! Don't stay up late playing video games like I am sure you are doing, or watching scary movies so you can't sleep! You are growing older, you can't do that anymore!" he sighed and sat down.
"I am sorry, I will try to go to bed earlier then." He gave him a crooked smile and sat down, knowing this wouldn't get him out of this tutoring session anyway. Not like he wanted to though, it was when he could actually sit down and not have to move. He would only have to listen. That was hard too though.
England felt awkward. After scolding him so badly before he felt bad that he had to wake him up because he forgot his work bag over at his house. Knocking softly, he opened the door.
" Alfred?" he walked into the dark kitchen that smelt faintly of grease and hamburgers. " Alfred are you awake?" he began to walk down the hallway only to see a light from a crack of the bedroom door. Quietly he walked forward, opening the door a little farther and looking in. There at his desk sleeping on his books was America.
Standing there in the doorway he felt stupid. He had been tutoring him hard all afternoon, the younger man's breaks only when he had to leave for meetings or other business, and then after he left, he probably ate and sat down to study more. It explained so much, and it made him feel so bad.
A rustling of paper and Alfred's voice brought him back out of his thoughts though.
"What are you doing here Arthur? I thought you went home…" he was so tired, it was evident in his voice, not only in his every movement.
"I… I forgot something…."
"Oh yah, that girlie side bag thing you wear… it is in the living room on the couch, I was going to bring it to you tomorrow you know… you didn't have to come back…" Alfred smiled kindly, setting down his pencil and closing his books.
"Alfred…" England said softly, watching as the other moved slowly and carefully to not nock anything over.
"Yah?" It was too hard, the other was too nice. He took everything he said, every insult and negative comment; he stood the fact that he was pushing him despite that he was working himself down already.
"I…" he took a step forward and grabbed the other's hand gently, pulling him over to the bed. He didn't know what to say. Nothing seemed to fit right now. "You should sleep." He said softly, pushing him down onto the bed.
"I don't think I am going to be able to sleep." He said with a sigh and a yawn. "I haven't been able to really… it really sucks because I have all this work to do…."
England understood why America had been putting off his college work now. It had been taking so much energy from him being sick and supporting a collapsing economy, doing all that work and coming to meetings, college just drained whatever life was left out of him.
There was a nervous silence, where America tried to get comfortable and England just stood there for a moment. Arthur broke it though, not being able to shake the horrible feeling of guilt.
"If… If you want I will sing you to sleep like I did when you were a child…" he felt nervous offering, and got himself ready to be rejected for having such a foolish idea, but quite the opposite happened.
Alfred rolled over and smiled sleepily. "Would you make me that tea like you used to as well?"
England smiled and nodded. "Yah. Of course I will." He walked out of the room and towards the kitchen, happy that he could help.
England had stayed up until the early hours of the morning, and only when he was pretty sure the restless and stressed out American was asleep did he let himself lay down next to him, too tired himself to move to another room.
He turned off the light above them and looked at the other's face.
He had only wanted the best for him. He only wanted to make sure the other succeeded in everything he did. It was such a bittersweet feeling every time he did succeed, knowing it was just like when he left him. But just like then, it was for the best that he left. If he hadn't left he wouldn't be the wonderful young man he was in love with now.
"I… I am so sorry Alfred… I shouldn't have pushed you so hard… I … I didn't know." He sniffled, feeling stupid because he knew it was just the lack of sleep that was letting him talk so freely. "'m so sorry."
He wiggled forward burying his head in the American's chest to try and stop the stupid tears and fall asleep, hoping he could wake up early enough to escape from this comfortable position against the other before he could wake up and find out. That thought was dashed though as he felt the other's arms slowly tighten around him.
"It's okay Arty…" he whispered back, smiling into the smaller man's hair. " When you tutored me… it… was nice. It was nice spending time with you when you aren't cursing me every other word…but if you give me the option I much prefer this if you want to spend quality time with me." He cuddled him close, breathing in the smell of teas and paper that surrounded England.
All England could do though was laugh softly.
He just had wanted the best, because he loved the 'damned bloody fucking wanker' that was Alfred F. Jones.