[Sweethearts Week] Valentine's Day [Fic]
Title: Just Another Valentine's Story
Genre: Romance/Humor
Word Count: 1,527
Rating/Warnings: T for profanity and mentions of sex
Summary: Like all couples, America wants to make Valentine's Day perfect. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen.
Like all the other couples in the world, Alfred wanted Valentine’s Day to be simply perfect. Roses, chocolate, and a romantic dinner fitted the bill even though there was a little something extra in it for him afterwards. That was why he had to pick a good place to be-not the snowy New England states, but those states on the West Coast.
He chose California.
California was pretty sunny, right? It was pretty sunny the days before. So without the freezing temperature he hated, Alfred could enjoy Valentine’s Day with his lover, right?
Unfortunately, weather was just a bipolar bitch at times, especially today. Not only was it cloudy and windy, the sky was pouring out all the water from who knows where. Arthur’s plane was almost landing, so there was no way he could have changed his decision. Plus, who wanted to spend their entire Valentine’s on an airplane? He sure didn’t.
It was around noon when the plane landed. At this time, the sky was clear, and Alfred hoped it would stay that way. As he waited for Arthur at the airport, he listed off all the gods he knew from his people, begging each and everyone of them to not let it rain. He knew quite a few more than he thought, being inattentive and all.
Then, Arthur appeared, looking a bit tired out from the long fly. Alfred, not caring about the spectators, swooped Arthur in his arms and kissed him like some cliché movie. He knew it was cliché, but he couldn’t help it-he loved kissing Arthur, and Arthur was just right there. As long as it felt good, everything was fine in his case, and at this point, it felt wonderful as warmth spread around his body. However, Arthur felt embarrassed a short while afterwards and broke the kiss. At least he smiled.
They walked out of the airport with Alfred carrying the luggage and blabbering about random topics to keep a conversation going. Arthur, the sly gentleman he was, slid his hand over to lock fingers with Alfred as he was talking. He was going to comment on it, but it was better not to, since that would make Arthur get angry (though that wasn’t a bad prospect) and release his hand in the process. Holding hands was the most affectionate thing Arthur initiated all day (which consisted of a few minutes, but still).
But as soon as they took one step, one single step, out those transparent automatic doors, it rained. It rained as if the skies were mocking him. And in a way they kind of were; he didn’t bring an umbrella.
“You didn’t bring an umbrella, did you?” Arthur read his thoughts.
“No, no I did not,” Alfred stated, his hair and clothes getting damper by the second.
“Then shouldn’t we… run?” Arthur implied.
“Yes, yes we should,” Alfred laughed, ending the conversation by dragging the luggage in one hand and Arthur in the other.
He heard complaints about getting wet, but he didn’t care. He had to make the best of whatever, so he ran in the rain.
Fate seemed to test that theory, causing Alfred even more trouble.
When he had the luggage put away, he sat in the car and tried to start the car, but as you may have guessed, the car did not start. It grunted and made all those other noises a car would make to start, but it did not start. Suddenly, it stopped entirely and did not move again. He would fix it, but there was no time to do that. His time was reserved for Arthur and only Arthur. He couldn’t waste time like this.
Like a man of action, he instantly took out a spare umbrella in the trunk (he just didn’t bring it with him to the airport, okay?), handed it to Arthur, and hauled the luggage. “We can walk to my house. It’s not that far.”
Arthur didn’t seem to hear him at first, but he then opened the umbrella and followed Alfred’s lead. They stayed silent for a while.
“So Arthur,” Alfred started, “I’m so sorry about this. I thought it was going to be sunny today, so we could hang outside and then at night, go back to my house to have dinner and all-.”
“Alfred,” Arthur interrupted. Alfred looked back at him to see he was smiling. “Get in the umbrella, idiot. I don’t want you to get a cold.”
“It’s a bit too late for that,” he chuckled awkwardly.
“Then don’t get any more wet than you are now. And wait a moment… you’re sick?”
Alfred crouched under the protection. “Yeah. I have been since yesterday. Don’t know where I got it from, but it won’t stop me in enjoying today with you.”
“Stupid,” Arthur rubbed his forehead with a free hand, “that says something about your preservation skills.”
“Yup! I took eight doses of Nyquil yesterday!”
“Eight?!” Arthur screeched, “You’re only supposed to take one per eight hours! Are you that much of an idiot that you can’t even read your language?”
“American?”
“English! English, you arse!”
“Okay, okay! I’ll be careful next time!”
Arthur sighed and kissed Alfred’s forehead. He mumbled an apology and looked down, blushing. Alfred could only think how cute he was.
When they reached home, Arthur forced Alfred to take a shower, which turned out to be the both of them in the shower, since Alfred had awesome persuasion skills. In the shower, there was, of course, kissing, but Arthur was being too grumpy for the both of them to have sex. What happened to being romantic? Well, the guy was a killjoy most of the time, so it was expected.
After the shower, which was very warm in contrast to the weather outside, Arthur dried Alfred like a mom. He cracked a joke about it, which earned him a scolding. He then asked why Arthur was kissing him even though he was sick and caused more chiding. He didn’t know if he loved or disliked this side of Arthur. It was cute, but annoying at the same time. However, he loved him, so he should be flexible with these kinds of things. Love was about giving one hundred and ten percent, right?
Arthur forced him on the bed, which was the go-lie-down-while-I-go-get-you-something kind of forcing instead of I’m-going-to-lay-you kind. It was a bit of a disappointment, but the fact Arthur was worried about his silly cold was reassuring. While he reclined on the bed alone, he remembered the flowers he hid in his drawer. Why was it in there? So he would be secretive, duh! Neither could he think of another place to hide it in his stupidity and rush.
He hid the flowers as quick and he took them out of their hiding spot because Arthur just had to come in that moment. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise as he did with picking the right location and such. Arthur cooked him something that was supposedly porridge, but it looked more like purple goo. He did not think Purple goo tasted good. He did not know what kind of ingredients Arthur used to make something look purple. He certainly did not have purple dye in his house.
Hoping to avoid all action of eating that “food,” he told Arthur to put the tray on the nightstand. Arthur complied, and when he saw the chance, he got on his knees and presented the bouquet. Arthur’s eyes widened slightly, and he thought he was going to cry or something, but then again, Arthur wasn’t a girl.
To end it off, he confessed, “Baby, I love you, will you please smile for me?”
Without a word, he smiled genuinely. Alfred really liked those smiles. They didn’t look plastic and appeared to be only for Alfred. They probably were only for Alfred. Plus, the fact that Arthur didn’t smile much made even more precious.
“I love you too,” Arthur replied softly, but he had to be real stubborn to add, “but that doesn’t mean you get to escape eating my food.”
“Darn,” Alfred muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow, but let it go. “Anyways, get on the bed and scoot over.”
He consented and Arthur put the tray of oh-god-what-was-that on his lap as he climbed on the cushion. After, he took some candles out, which were lying on the kitchen counter, and lit them to make a romantic scene. Alfred snorted, ruining the mood.
“Hey,” Arthur said, annoyed.
“Sorry,” he giggled, “I can’t help it. Even though this is what I wanted, a romantic mood, I guess it doesn’t really suit us. It’s funny in my opinion.”
Arthur joined along in the laughter. “Me too.”
Then, Alfred took a bite out of the porridge and almost died, but it was okay since he received Arthur as a consolation, so he didn’t have to eat the thing anymore, the two of them distracted by themselves. Yes, they made love and forgot the rain, flowers, and fail.
They forgot the chocolates as well.
And that is the end of this Valentine’s story.
A/N: Oh god I am so tired and this is kind of fail. This is based on my day today. Yes, it's raining over here. Yes, this is a part of California here. The Nyquil thing is also from real life. Thank god he did not die. And a lot of people are sick over here, yes. Anyways, I hope you had a very good Valentine's Day like I did!
Genre: Romance/Humor
Word Count: 1,527
Rating/Warnings: T for profanity and mentions of sex
Summary: Like all couples, America wants to make Valentine's Day perfect. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen.
Like all the other couples in the world, Alfred wanted Valentine’s Day to be simply perfect. Roses, chocolate, and a romantic dinner fitted the bill even though there was a little something extra in it for him afterwards. That was why he had to pick a good place to be-not the snowy New England states, but those states on the West Coast.
He chose California.
California was pretty sunny, right? It was pretty sunny the days before. So without the freezing temperature he hated, Alfred could enjoy Valentine’s Day with his lover, right?
Unfortunately, weather was just a bipolar bitch at times, especially today. Not only was it cloudy and windy, the sky was pouring out all the water from who knows where. Arthur’s plane was almost landing, so there was no way he could have changed his decision. Plus, who wanted to spend their entire Valentine’s on an airplane? He sure didn’t.
It was around noon when the plane landed. At this time, the sky was clear, and Alfred hoped it would stay that way. As he waited for Arthur at the airport, he listed off all the gods he knew from his people, begging each and everyone of them to not let it rain. He knew quite a few more than he thought, being inattentive and all.
Then, Arthur appeared, looking a bit tired out from the long fly. Alfred, not caring about the spectators, swooped Arthur in his arms and kissed him like some cliché movie. He knew it was cliché, but he couldn’t help it-he loved kissing Arthur, and Arthur was just right there. As long as it felt good, everything was fine in his case, and at this point, it felt wonderful as warmth spread around his body. However, Arthur felt embarrassed a short while afterwards and broke the kiss. At least he smiled.
They walked out of the airport with Alfred carrying the luggage and blabbering about random topics to keep a conversation going. Arthur, the sly gentleman he was, slid his hand over to lock fingers with Alfred as he was talking. He was going to comment on it, but it was better not to, since that would make Arthur get angry (though that wasn’t a bad prospect) and release his hand in the process. Holding hands was the most affectionate thing Arthur initiated all day (which consisted of a few minutes, but still).
But as soon as they took one step, one single step, out those transparent automatic doors, it rained. It rained as if the skies were mocking him. And in a way they kind of were; he didn’t bring an umbrella.
“You didn’t bring an umbrella, did you?” Arthur read his thoughts.
“No, no I did not,” Alfred stated, his hair and clothes getting damper by the second.
“Then shouldn’t we… run?” Arthur implied.
“Yes, yes we should,” Alfred laughed, ending the conversation by dragging the luggage in one hand and Arthur in the other.
He heard complaints about getting wet, but he didn’t care. He had to make the best of whatever, so he ran in the rain.
Fate seemed to test that theory, causing Alfred even more trouble.
When he had the luggage put away, he sat in the car and tried to start the car, but as you may have guessed, the car did not start. It grunted and made all those other noises a car would make to start, but it did not start. Suddenly, it stopped entirely and did not move again. He would fix it, but there was no time to do that. His time was reserved for Arthur and only Arthur. He couldn’t waste time like this.
Like a man of action, he instantly took out a spare umbrella in the trunk (he just didn’t bring it with him to the airport, okay?), handed it to Arthur, and hauled the luggage. “We can walk to my house. It’s not that far.”
Arthur didn’t seem to hear him at first, but he then opened the umbrella and followed Alfred’s lead. They stayed silent for a while.
“So Arthur,” Alfred started, “I’m so sorry about this. I thought it was going to be sunny today, so we could hang outside and then at night, go back to my house to have dinner and all-.”
“Alfred,” Arthur interrupted. Alfred looked back at him to see he was smiling. “Get in the umbrella, idiot. I don’t want you to get a cold.”
“It’s a bit too late for that,” he chuckled awkwardly.
“Then don’t get any more wet than you are now. And wait a moment… you’re sick?”
Alfred crouched under the protection. “Yeah. I have been since yesterday. Don’t know where I got it from, but it won’t stop me in enjoying today with you.”
“Stupid,” Arthur rubbed his forehead with a free hand, “that says something about your preservation skills.”
“Yup! I took eight doses of Nyquil yesterday!”
“Eight?!” Arthur screeched, “You’re only supposed to take one per eight hours! Are you that much of an idiot that you can’t even read your language?”
“American?”
“English! English, you arse!”
“Okay, okay! I’ll be careful next time!”
Arthur sighed and kissed Alfred’s forehead. He mumbled an apology and looked down, blushing. Alfred could only think how cute he was.
When they reached home, Arthur forced Alfred to take a shower, which turned out to be the both of them in the shower, since Alfred had awesome persuasion skills. In the shower, there was, of course, kissing, but Arthur was being too grumpy for the both of them to have sex. What happened to being romantic? Well, the guy was a killjoy most of the time, so it was expected.
After the shower, which was very warm in contrast to the weather outside, Arthur dried Alfred like a mom. He cracked a joke about it, which earned him a scolding. He then asked why Arthur was kissing him even though he was sick and caused more chiding. He didn’t know if he loved or disliked this side of Arthur. It was cute, but annoying at the same time. However, he loved him, so he should be flexible with these kinds of things. Love was about giving one hundred and ten percent, right?
Arthur forced him on the bed, which was the go-lie-down-while-I-go-get-you-something kind of forcing instead of I’m-going-to-lay-you kind. It was a bit of a disappointment, but the fact Arthur was worried about his silly cold was reassuring. While he reclined on the bed alone, he remembered the flowers he hid in his drawer. Why was it in there? So he would be secretive, duh! Neither could he think of another place to hide it in his stupidity and rush.
He hid the flowers as quick and he took them out of their hiding spot because Arthur just had to come in that moment. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise as he did with picking the right location and such. Arthur cooked him something that was supposedly porridge, but it looked more like purple goo. He did not think Purple goo tasted good. He did not know what kind of ingredients Arthur used to make something look purple. He certainly did not have purple dye in his house.
Hoping to avoid all action of eating that “food,” he told Arthur to put the tray on the nightstand. Arthur complied, and when he saw the chance, he got on his knees and presented the bouquet. Arthur’s eyes widened slightly, and he thought he was going to cry or something, but then again, Arthur wasn’t a girl.
To end it off, he confessed, “Baby, I love you, will you please smile for me?”
Without a word, he smiled genuinely. Alfred really liked those smiles. They didn’t look plastic and appeared to be only for Alfred. They probably were only for Alfred. Plus, the fact that Arthur didn’t smile much made even more precious.
“I love you too,” Arthur replied softly, but he had to be real stubborn to add, “but that doesn’t mean you get to escape eating my food.”
“Darn,” Alfred muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow, but let it go. “Anyways, get on the bed and scoot over.”
He consented and Arthur put the tray of oh-god-what-was-that on his lap as he climbed on the cushion. After, he took some candles out, which were lying on the kitchen counter, and lit them to make a romantic scene. Alfred snorted, ruining the mood.
“Hey,” Arthur said, annoyed.
“Sorry,” he giggled, “I can’t help it. Even though this is what I wanted, a romantic mood, I guess it doesn’t really suit us. It’s funny in my opinion.”
Arthur joined along in the laughter. “Me too.”
Then, Alfred took a bite out of the porridge and almost died, but it was okay since he received Arthur as a consolation, so he didn’t have to eat the thing anymore, the two of them distracted by themselves. Yes, they made love and forgot the rain, flowers, and fail.
They forgot the chocolates as well.
And that is the end of this Valentine’s story.
A/N: Oh god I am so tired and this is kind of fail. This is based on my day today. Yes, it's raining over here. Yes, this is a part of California here. The Nyquil thing is also from real life. Thank god he did not die. And a lot of people are sick over here, yes. Anyways, I hope you had a very good Valentine's Day like I did!