Hetalia - On London's Stage [6/12]
Title: On London’s Stage
Author: faeriesnook
Rating: PG
Summary: AU: Getting lost while on a tour of London was not something that Alfred had planned. Neither was stumbling into a theatre and coming across a paint-splattered Brit reciting Hamlet.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. I also do not own Hamlet.
-
The first conscious thought he had when waking was his head was killing him. It was like a jack hammer had been taken to it. And really, that made Alfred just want to curl up and die, or go back to sleep. The second option seemed more likely. Actually, the second option seemed incredibly welcoming. He was so comfortable, wrapped up in the comforter of his bed. Head cushioned by the plump cushions. The lights were dimmed too, only a little sunlight drifting in from behind the curtains. Oh yes, the perfect atmosphere to just sleep the day away. It was so welcoming. In fact, he decided, that’s exactly what Alfred was going to do. Maybe after another hour his throat would stop aching. Then he could just text Arthur and-
Arthur! Blue eyes snapped back open. No! No! He couldn’t just stay in bed. He and Arthur, they had a date! He had to at least call him, he had to-
He had been about to sit up, about to throw the covers off his body, when he suddenly became very aware that one of his hands was trapped. Trapped in someone else’s hand…
Arthur… What was Arthur doing here? Why was he sound asleep in a chair by his bed, head cushioned by his arms on the mattress, those slender hands holding onto one of Alfred’s? The American could only blink, confused and somewhat dazed. Maybe he was sleeping still? But he was pretty sure he was awake. A pinch later confirmed that yes, yes he was awake. And Arthur was sound asleep by his bed, a blanket pulled over the stage-manager.
Okay, he was definitely missing something.
Still, it was kind of nice. He had almost forgotten how cute Arthur looked when he slept. With a small grin, he reached out with his free hand, brushing blond hair out of Arthur’s closed eyes. The result was expected. Arthur mumbled something unintelligible, before nuzzling his arm as if he was burrowing to get away. It made the American chuckle, well almost. Laughing made his throat and head ache…
“You awake?” The soft voice caught his attention. Lifting his head he blinked blearily towards the doorway. Matthew was there, he could just make out his brother. And in a blink, his twin was on the other side of his bed. And up close, even though he was still blurred, Alfred could see a look of pure relief. “Thank God! Al never do that again!”
“Do… Do what?” He croaked, wincing and moving his free hand to rub his aching throat.
Matthew gave an almost exasperated sigh, and then walked away. Alfred was about to shout out for him to come back, but he had already returned. A glass of what he was sure was water in his hand. Carefully (and with a lot of help from the Canadian) he sat up without waking Arthur, accepting the glass and nearly downing it in one go. It made his throat feel better, like it wasn’t on fire. More like the embers of said fire were slowly dying. When he handed the glass back, he frowned repeating his question. This time he got an answer, along with his glasses. “You’ve been sick for the past three days. We almost thought we were going to have to take you to one of the hospitals last night, but your fever finally broke. You’ve been really out of it bro. Eh, at least when you were awake.”
“What is… What’s Arthur doin’ here?” He winced, his voice was so hoarse. Even with the water, he could only whisper. And even that took effort.
To this, the other shrugged sitting down on the other side of the bed. “Ivan brought him here this morning after he went to the theatre. He fell asleep around lunch time I think…”
“Lunch… What time is it now!?”
“Around dinner time.” Alfred stared at his brother, who could only smile sheepishly. “He’s been here practically all day.”
Alfred fell quiet again. He could only just stare down at the seemingly oblivious, slumbering Brit. It reminded him of that day at the theatre so long ago, when Alfred had come and found the stage manager sound asleep. Just like that day Arthur’s face was so peaceful. The lines of stress and worry that generally marred the blond’s features were smoothed out. His head pillowed in his arms on the mattress. Smiling gently the American reached out, brushing choppy bangs out of Arthur’s shut eyes. The other shifted as a result, swatting at Alfred’s hand before nuzzling deeper into his folded arms. He chuckled at that, trailing his fingers through the short locks, it was adorable. Arthur could seriously be adorable sometimes, not that he would ever admit that out loud. He’d probably leave the encounter with a black eye.
“I’ll go tell the others your awake.” His brothers soft voice made him jump, his hand retracting from Arthur’s soft hair as if he’d been burned. Matthew smiled at Alfred, an amused look on his face. In return he could feel his face burn, the comforter suddenly incredibly interesting. He listened to the soft chuckle from his twin, before the soft footsteps and then the shutting of the bedroom door.
Blue eyes drifted across the blanket and back to the slumbering Brit. His face was warm, both from his fever and the blush that was growing across his face. Hesitantly he reached out again, once again running his fingers through the others hair. The smile grew again as he shifted in the bed, leaning forward to press a kiss against the top of Arthur’s hair. The other gave a soft murmur, shifting positions. It was like a little kid almost, and he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, just imagining what Arthur would say if Alfred ever gave these thoughts a voice. He would probably blush, flustered and then yell at him, calling him an idiot and possibly a few bruises.
“Al…” The sleepy voice caught him off-guard. Blinking Alfred looked at the stage-managers face. There was a tiny smile on the Brit’s face. It was so soft and quiet, like a rare little secret that only a few could see. It made Alfred’s own smile grow larger. The large eyebrows scrunched together, Arthur’s eyes squeezing shut before slowly his eyes opened. He grinned more, gazing down at those sleepy eyes. For a moment they seemed to look past Alfred, as if not registering where he was. The sleepiness vanished within a minute though, Arthur sitting upright and nearly hitting his head against Alfred’s own. “Alfred!”
“’s my name.” He grinned more, laughing a bit at the incredulous look that had overtaken the Brit’s face. Then before he expected it the stage-manager had pulled Alfred into a hug, a choked ‘thank God’ echoing by his ear. The American as a result blinked once, then twice, before hesitantly hugging him back. “Um… You okay?”
Arthur pulled away at that, a bright blush on his cheeks. “Of course! I’m not the one who was delusional!”
To that Alfred blinked. Damn, how out of it had he been?
“Honestly…” Arthur replied, an irritated look crossing his otherwise relief face. “I thought you were mad at me until Ivan told me you were sick… You could have called me or something!”
“In my defense,” Alfred spoke up anticipating a slap to the back of his head. Ducking and moving out of Arthur’s reach, his grin became sheepish. “I didn’t even know it’d been three days since we saw each other. At least until I woke up.”
He paused for a moment, taking in the still irritated gaze. “… Wait, you thought I was mad at you..?”
The blush grew again. Arthur’s gaze slipped away, the wall suddenly catching his attention. “… N-No…”
A sly smile formed across Alfred’s lips. He reached out to poke the others cheek. “Hey… If I had realized it I would’ve called you.”
If anything Arthur cheeks heated further, hitting Alfred’s poking finger irritably. “How’re you feeling?”
He cocked his head to the side, taking in how he felt. His throat ached, almost scratchy. And there was a dull throb in his head, like a headache that wasn’t going away anytime soon. His nose was stuffed, he couldn’t breathe through it. His limbs ached, his entire body felt like he was on fire still. In all seriousness he felt like complete shit. At least he had, but Arthur’s worry and adorable brush… Well, it made him if anything, feel a bit better.
“I’m alright…” He shrugged. “Just… Dazed? I donno…”
“Lay back down.” It was almost an order, Arthur placing his hands on either of Alfred’s shoulders and carefully pushing him back against the pillows. Weakly he tried to push the hands away but Arthur’s hands remained firmly placed against his shoulders until he seemed settled that the American would not be trying to get up again. Then he pressed a hand against his forehead, and he could see the worried lines forming on Arthur’s face again. He couldn’t help but feel guilty to know he was the cause of this worry…
“Arthur I’m-”
“Your fevers gone down, but it’s still pretty high…” Before he could say another word Arthur was on his feet, walking into the attached bathroom. Then he was back again, a damp washcloth in his hand. Slightly dazed blue eyes continued to follow as he sat down on the bed, and then a shiver ran down his spine as the cloth was placed against his forehead. A small groan escaped him before he could fight it, his eyes slipping shut for a moment. “There, that should help…”
“Mattie said… You been here since the morning?” Arthur nodded, glancing away a bit in embarrassment. “Worried?”
“’Course I was!” Alfred shrunk back slightly to the reaction. The Brit flushed slightly, looking away when his eyes briefly met his own. “I thought that maybe I had… I mean, when we last saw each other. Maybe I had…”
What was he? Oh no… No! Arthur hadn’t thought? Alfred’s eyes widened. He seriously didn’t think that Alfred had avoided him? Had he? And still Arthur was looking down, picking at a loose thread in the blanket. “I just… You didn’t show up and I tried calling you but you didn’t pick up so… I thought that maybe you were mad at me… I-If I crossed a line… When I you know…” If Arthur’s face could get any redder, Alfred was positive he would pass out from blood loss. “Then just, then Ivan came today and said you were sick… I well…”
“He demanded for Vanya to bring him here to see for himself.” He turned his head, gaze landing on a bemused looking Katyusha. To his side Arthur snorted.
“And you made me lay down the moment you saw I had a small fever.” And that comment, as off-handed as it was, made Alfred snap his head around to the Brit.
“Fever!?” Arthur was sick? A panic gripped his chest. Even if it was tiny, knowing Arthur he would continue to push himself until he could barely function, until he would collapse like that day weeks ago in the theatre. However, his outburst was met with a simple chuckle from them both, Arthur readjusting the cloth against his forehead.
“I’m alright now.” The Brit responded simply, reaching out and taking one of Alfred’s hands with his. Albeit a bit shyly.
“It wasn’t a very bad fever.” Katyusha remarked crossing the room to the other side of Alfred’s bed. He blinked dazedly as the cool cloth left his forehead, followed by the Ukrainian woman’s soft hand against his forehead, before his cheeks, then the back of his neck. “Yours seems to be going down quickly now that it’s finally broken. Thank goodness.”
“You been takin’ care of me this entire time Katyusha..?” She flushed bashfully, nodding her head. Alfred grinned. “Thanks a lot…”
“It was no problem.” She giggled, leaning forward to plant an affectionate kiss against his damp forehead. “I will see if between Francis and I we can make you some soup. Ah, I will make you some as well Arthur.”
Arthur nodded at that, murmuring a soft ‘thank you’. Together they watched as the woman left, Alfred becoming incredibly aware of the thumb stroking the back of his hand. Hesitantly Alfred allowed his gaze to trail back, resting on the other blonde. He was looking away again, despite the thumb that continued stroking the back of his hand. It was a simple action, and yet at the same time so shy and hesitant. Alfred though couldn’t let the nagging thoughts to fade.
“You’re alright, right?”
“I’m fine. My fever was only a tiny one…”
“… Not fair.” Alfred grumbled earning him a confused look. “You were out in the rain for way longer then me and I was the one who got seriously sick!”
Arthur snorted again, using his free hand to flick Alfred’s forehead. “Yes. But you also came to the theatre in that storm, hung around in wet clothing, then put the wet clothing back on and went back into the storm.” Alfred was about to protest more, but Arthur cut him off. “Plus, I’m used to pushing myself till near exhaustion. It’s helped me build up a strong immune system.”
He muttered about how that was so unfair and made no sense, to which Arthur just laughed. A silence fell over them again, broken only by Alfred’s coughs. Generally Alfred would try to break the silence by rambling on about something, but he just couldn’t find the energy. His eyelids were drooping, and for a brief moment he wanted to do nothing more than sleep. Actually, that seemed like an incredibly good idea. Distantly he heard the Brit chuckle as Alfred nuzzled into the pillows. With his free hand Arthur pulled the blankets back over his shoulder. It made him smile sleepily, peeking up at the stage manager. “Mm… Arthur?”
“Hmm? Go to sleep Al.” He soothed. “You can tell me when you wake up.”
“Just… When I feel better,” he mumbled, eyes slipping shut. He heard Arthur chuckle again, and then a feather-light kiss brushed against the back of his hand. Even with his eyes closed he could see the hesitant blush that was probably painted across Arthur’s face. Smiling to himself he snuggled deeper into the blankets as a shiver ran down his spine. Never once though did he loosen his weak hold on Arthur’s hand. “We gotta go on that date…”
There was silence, Alfred wondered if he was heard. But he was so tired… He could always just repeat himself when he woke up.
He could have sworn though, just as he was beginning to sink into the darkness of sleep, a soft kiss was pressed against his cheek. Arthur’s soft whisper following it “I’d like that.”
-
The next time Alfred woke up Arthur was gone, and Matthew was watching a muted hockey game from his own bed. And from the way he was mouthing curses, Alfred figured his team was losing. That made the American snort, earning his brothers attention. Almost immediately his twin turned the television off, practically hoping off his bed and to Alfred’s side. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a truck?” Alfred groaned, his head pounding. Matthew laughed in response, but he saw the relieved smile. “And I’m starving.”
“I’ll reheat the soup Francis had made for you.” He nodded, watching from his lying position as Matthew moved to the refrigerator in their room pulling out a Tupper ware container and then placing it in the microwave. Rubbing his nose he pushed himself into a sitting position. Blue eyes shifted over to where Arthur had been sitting when he had fallen asleep. And Alfred was most certainly not upset that the stage manager was gone now. Most certainly not… Alright maybe a little.
“You’re boyfriend had to go home.” Alfred’s eyes widened, and he felt his cheeks heat. Whipping his head around, and immediately regretting it as his head spun, he shot his now smirking brother a glare.
“H-He isn’t my boyfriend!”
“Uh-huh.” Matthew crossed his arms over his chest.
“I-I mean… He’s um… Ju-Just…” Alfred sighed, flopping back against the pillows. “I don’t know what we are…”
“Go out on a date yet?”
“Sorta? Though I spent the whole date wondering if it was a date…” When he glanced at Matthew, his brother was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and incredulous look. “What?”
“You spent the entire date wondering if it was a date.”
“Yes?”
“You are an idiot Al.”
“Hey!” He sat back up, though regretted it when the room spun again. The other blond just laughed, carefully taking the soup out of the microwave and handing it to Alfred.
“Be careful not to burn yourself.”
“Alright Mom,” he huffed, before proceeding to do just what Matthew had warned against. The soup stun his tongue, Alfred wincing.
“You burnt yourself didn’t you?”
“N-No!” His brother rolled his eyes, but didn’t push the matter. Instead he returned his attention back to the hockey match on the television. Alfred was grateful for that, stirring the soup around idly as he waited for it to cool. Unfortunately, his brother only held his tongue for a few minutes.
“So, he’s your boyfriend.” A small groan escaped him. Setting his bowl aside he opted to hide under the blankets. Yes, if he could hide, Matthew wouldn’t see him. That way he couldn’t tease him! “Al, c’mon don’t be five.”
But he refused to come out. His face was burning, and he did not feel like having his brother tease him for it. A sigh sounded, and he felt the bed dip as Matthew settled besides him.
“He seems like a good guy.” Risking it, Alfred peeked out. Matthew was still watching the hockey game, leaning against the headboard besides Alfred. After a moment, violet eyes slide to look at him, before Matthew gave him a small smile. “Don’t screw up.”
A pillow to Matthew’s face was Alfred’s reply.
(-)(-)(-)
Baaaaw I am so sorry for not updating this sooner! I had this thing… Called a Shakespeare class last semester… And it made me not want to go near anything Shakespeare related for like… Months. This fic sadly included. And then I realized I couldn’t write Canada for my life. Which I actually found really weird since up until now I had been able too.
So I’m really sorry for taking so long!
Aaah this chapter, it’s been half written for so long… I’m not sure I still like it XD;; Aaah I hope you all enjoy though? And don’t kill me for how long it’s taken? I’ll try and update sooner, but no promises!!