Hero
Title: Hero
Summary: In the end, what Arthur needed to be saved from was Alfred's desire to become his hero.
Pairing: USUK
Notes: Cheesy and blah blah as usual, but at least there's no death this time. Ignore grammar errors because I cannot Engrish when I am tired.
When British ships docked in the harbors during daytime, Alfred was usually the first one running to go greet its sailors. He recognized some faces and hardly remembered their names, but that wasn't important. All Alfred really cared about was the tall, charismatic man at the front of the leading ship, one whose proud smirk never failed to melt into a warm smile every time their eyes met.
"Arthur!" he would yell, waving wildly and grinning widely when the Englishman chuckled and returned the wave. Then, Alfred would wait none too patiently for Arthur to get off the ship. Fortunately, Arthur never really took his sweet time in doing so, and it wouldn't be long before Alfred was lifted up into the older blonde's arms and hearing sweet greetings in that soft, British accent he absolutely adored.
It was different, when the moon was high and the sky was an inky black. The ships would land quietly on the docks, not unlike a child sneaking in to his room after coming back late from a meeting with friends. Alfred would be fast asleep, and Arthur would be the last to get off his ship. If the journey from England had been a safe one, he would reach Alfred's home in ten minutes, perhaps less. If he'd run into some enemies, particularly the persistent Spanish, the trip would take anywhere from twenty to thirty minutes.
Tonight was such a night, and it took Arthur a grand total of twenty-three minutes to reach Alfred's home. The door creaked open as he made every effort to enter as quietly as he could, so as not to wake Alfred from his slumber. Rather than make his way straight to the young colony's room, as was his habit to do so on good nights, Arthur went straight to the spare room right next to it.
There seemed to always be a change that came over Alfred whenever Arthur was present, whether he was awake or asleep. The softest curses, the gentlest splashes of water, and the tearing of bandages were enough to awake the child, even though he hardly awoke when someone came pounding on his door early in the morning. Thus, with a wide yawn and a rather lethargic stretch, Alfred slid off his bed and silently made his way over to the next room. However, when he pushed the door open and his lips moved to form the first syllable of Arthur's name, he froze, brilliant blue eyes widening in surprise and unpleasant shock.
Arthur flinched, seeming to be equally surprised as he hurriedly pulled his dress shirt on. "Alfred!" he called, his laughter seeming to be a little forced as he turned away. "What are you doing up? It's late."
Alfred's lip quivered, and his gaze slowly dropped to the bloodied bandages by Arthur's feet before moving back to catch a glimpse of the Englishman's bandaged torso. "Arthur... you're hurt..."
Now, Alfred was young, but he wasn't stupid. When Arthur laughed, Alfred could hear the pain in the older nation's voice, and could almost feel the pain resulting from the slight movement. "I'm fine, Alfred," Arthur reassured, speedily buttoning up his shirt before fully turning to face Alfred. "Sorry for the scare. It's just a little scratch. Do you want me to lie down with you? I know you're not very good with the dark."
He was trying to change the topic, but Alfred didn't notice. All that registered in his mind was that Arthur was hurt, Arthur was bleeding, Arthur could be dying, and that he had to do something about it.
Alfred couldn't attach words to his emotions yet, but as he grew older and saw more of Arthur's blood and even tears, he knew that all along, he'd been desiring to become Arthur's hero, whether the man admitted that he needed one or not.
"How could I shoot...?"
"Arthur..."
But to become a hero, he needed to be on even grounds with the one he wanted to save the most - even if that required hurting Arthur in the process. Meanwhile, Arthur himself couldn't help but wonder if Alfred knew that the attempt to start becoming this hero was what hurt the most.
Summary: In the end, what Arthur needed to be saved from was Alfred's desire to become his hero.
Pairing: USUK
Notes: Cheesy and blah blah as usual, but at least there's no death this time. Ignore grammar errors because I cannot Engrish when I am tired.
When British ships docked in the harbors during daytime, Alfred was usually the first one running to go greet its sailors. He recognized some faces and hardly remembered their names, but that wasn't important. All Alfred really cared about was the tall, charismatic man at the front of the leading ship, one whose proud smirk never failed to melt into a warm smile every time their eyes met.
"Arthur!" he would yell, waving wildly and grinning widely when the Englishman chuckled and returned the wave. Then, Alfred would wait none too patiently for Arthur to get off the ship. Fortunately, Arthur never really took his sweet time in doing so, and it wouldn't be long before Alfred was lifted up into the older blonde's arms and hearing sweet greetings in that soft, British accent he absolutely adored.
It was different, when the moon was high and the sky was an inky black. The ships would land quietly on the docks, not unlike a child sneaking in to his room after coming back late from a meeting with friends. Alfred would be fast asleep, and Arthur would be the last to get off his ship. If the journey from England had been a safe one, he would reach Alfred's home in ten minutes, perhaps less. If he'd run into some enemies, particularly the persistent Spanish, the trip would take anywhere from twenty to thirty minutes.
Tonight was such a night, and it took Arthur a grand total of twenty-three minutes to reach Alfred's home. The door creaked open as he made every effort to enter as quietly as he could, so as not to wake Alfred from his slumber. Rather than make his way straight to the young colony's room, as was his habit to do so on good nights, Arthur went straight to the spare room right next to it.
There seemed to always be a change that came over Alfred whenever Arthur was present, whether he was awake or asleep. The softest curses, the gentlest splashes of water, and the tearing of bandages were enough to awake the child, even though he hardly awoke when someone came pounding on his door early in the morning. Thus, with a wide yawn and a rather lethargic stretch, Alfred slid off his bed and silently made his way over to the next room. However, when he pushed the door open and his lips moved to form the first syllable of Arthur's name, he froze, brilliant blue eyes widening in surprise and unpleasant shock.
Arthur flinched, seeming to be equally surprised as he hurriedly pulled his dress shirt on. "Alfred!" he called, his laughter seeming to be a little forced as he turned away. "What are you doing up? It's late."
Alfred's lip quivered, and his gaze slowly dropped to the bloodied bandages by Arthur's feet before moving back to catch a glimpse of the Englishman's bandaged torso. "Arthur... you're hurt..."
Now, Alfred was young, but he wasn't stupid. When Arthur laughed, Alfred could hear the pain in the older nation's voice, and could almost feel the pain resulting from the slight movement. "I'm fine, Alfred," Arthur reassured, speedily buttoning up his shirt before fully turning to face Alfred. "Sorry for the scare. It's just a little scratch. Do you want me to lie down with you? I know you're not very good with the dark."
He was trying to change the topic, but Alfred didn't notice. All that registered in his mind was that Arthur was hurt, Arthur was bleeding, Arthur could be dying, and that he had to do something about it.
Alfred couldn't attach words to his emotions yet, but as he grew older and saw more of Arthur's blood and even tears, he knew that all along, he'd been desiring to become Arthur's hero, whether the man admitted that he needed one or not.
"How could I shoot...?"
"Arthur..."
But to become a hero, he needed to be on even grounds with the one he wanted to save the most - even if that required hurting Arthur in the process. Meanwhile, Arthur himself couldn't help but wonder if Alfred knew that the attempt to start becoming this hero was what hurt the most.