(![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
phoenixdown7.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
usxuk Dec. 21st, 2009 12:44 am)
phoenixdown7.livejournal.com posting in usxuk Dec. 21st, 2009 12:44 am)Title: You Are an Idiot After All
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
phoenixdown7
Recipient:lokichan2004
Genre: humor…erm…romance?
Rating/Warning: PG-13 , due to the cursing by a certain someone with bushy eyebrows. I’m not naming any names.
Summary: The Copenhagen Climate talks are not going well and Arthur has given up. Needless to say, only a true hero can save the world. Arthur is only shocked to learn that hero is actually Alfred.
Notes: The original prompt was “England kissing America senseless, during a meeting”. I have only just realized after typing this out that this might not be exactly what she was looking for, but I hope she likes it anyway!
“Watch where you’re riding, you sodding wanker!” Arthur snapped, wringing his fist at a bicyclist as they passed, before scowling down at the dirty puddle-water splashed across his suit jacket and soaking into the expensive argyle vest beneath. The offending cyclist ignored him completely and, after a long moment, he dropped his fist but kept his hands firmly clenched, his eyebrows twitching in irritation before he finally moved to get out of the rain.
He muttered a “Bloody Copenhagen!” under his breath, before he pushed through the doors of the building where the climate conference was being held – had been held for the last eleven days – amongst the representative nations.
His mood only darkened as he neared the conference room and he could feel the edge of the binder full of useless paperwork from his boss digging into his palm. The occupants were already arguing as he approached the entrance. He could hear their agitated whinging through the crack between the double doors, and it made him want to slam his head against the wall and be done with it.
They had come to agree upon a new climate treaty to replace the largely unsuccessful Kyoto Protocols, but the debate had quickly devolved into arcane squabbling about entitlements and inequality in monetary investment and responsibility between the richer and poorer nations. In short, no one was agreeing on anything and the very idea that they were supposed to be debating climate change and its impact on their planet seemed to be lost in the subsequent deluge of bullshit.
And, of course, to top it all off, the bleeding Yank – one of the only nations who could even try to broker a deal with Yao and Sumana - had been absent for the entire proceeding – a whole eleven days – and there was only one day left to find any semblance of common ground.
Not that Alfred would actually be of any help. Arthur rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, resting his forehead against one of the doors with fatigue. If he had to hear the ignorant tosser stride in late only to run his bleating mouth off about giant space robots blocking the sun one more time, he would surely be powerless to stop his hands from finding Alfred’s neck and finishing what he couldn’t during the Revolution.
At least that would get rid of the largest contributor in the world to global warming, he allowed himself a tired smirk at the thought. He shook his head. It was a bloody shame that was about the only way he could see this meeting becoming productive.
Eventually, Arthur pushed through the double doors with more force than he’d meant, before plopping down heavily into his usual seat.
Francis merely nodded to him, his lack of humorous ribbing a sure sign that he was just as exhausted as Arthur was and perhaps just as irritated with the spectacle of Ludwig barking green talking-points at a tense-looking Yao from across the table. Sumana and Kiku were in the midst of polite chit-chat, most likely not pertaining to climate change at all and probably more along the lines of what type of curry they liked best. Arthur rolled his eyes when Sumana tellingly pulled out a yellow curry packet from her sari and gave it to Kiku. Entirely too predictable.
The rest of the occupants of the room either appeared bored or tense, or both – some of them sending him and Francis weary looks as the more reluctant nations had been on the receiving end of their unusually collective diatribe about how they all had to take responsibility, no matter the cost, or they would all lose their natural resources. That had been, of course, when Arthur still had had the energy to fight for what he had believed was right. Before he had realized that many of the third-world nations just didn’t trust him or Francis, or any of the first-world nations in particular, to keep their end of the bargain and not use this treaty as an excuse to swindle them out of their hard-earned time and money.
Arthur sighed, doing his best to ignore the accusing stares being sent his way. He could hardly care anymore. He was sure this entire convention had been a lost cause from the very start. There was simply too much history between the participating nations and his cynical outlook informed him that eleven days of bickering could never solve hundreds of years of distrust. He could now only hope to get out of this alive by brainstorming with his boss on a good way to spin this utter waste of time into something positive. Goodness knows his boss was already getting it from both ends. He couldn’t survive another defeat like this.
He had just dropped his forehead onto his folded arms in front of him when a loud bang from behind startled him into an upright position. He looked behind him to see Alfred standing stiffly, his large frame nearly filling in the doorway.
Arthur was about to say something, his mouth already open, but no sound escaped his throat as he took in Alfred’s entire appearance.
Arthur was shocked to see a tense frown etched into the superpower’s usually youthful face, making him look older and graver. Dark rings marred the skin beneath his blue eyes that were already trained steadily upon the forms of the bickering Ludwig and Yao. Ludwig and Yao had failed to notice his entrance, but the rest of the room was deathly silent, the other nations looking between Alfred and the arguing pair with growing trepidation.
Francis looked particularly shell-shocked at Alfred’s uncharacteristically subdued demeanor, and even he seemed to feel the indescribable weight that now filled the air with foreboding as Alfred strode silently to the open seat beside Arthur and sat down.
“Alfred…” Arthur murmured, leaning over toward the American and taking in the slight pallor of his cheeks. “Alright?”
The question sounded a bit lame, even to his own ears, but Alfred actually nodded stiffly after a moment, tearing his piercing gaze away from Ludwig and Yao in order to glance at him. His explanation was clipped, his voice rough in a way that sent a peculiar tingle down Arthur’s spine. “Health Care.”
“Ah,” Arthur replied weakly. He hadn’t known Alfred had been having that bad a time of it. In reality, he had never suspected Alfred could have gotten so ruffled and strained about anything. Whatever was happening with the debate back in his legislature, it must have been frustrating and draining.
Yao’s voice, suddenly higher in tone, pierced through his thoughts.
“We have been able to curb green house gas emissions on our own, Ludwig.” Yao appeared irritated, his hand now resting on the table as he leaned forward into Ludwig’s personal space. “We see no reason, or advantage, to limiting our emissions to a binding treaty or subjugating them to outside verification.”
Some other nations around the room made murmurs of agreement, and Yao looked pleased as Ludwig spluttered before rearing back to retort, but he was interrupted.
“I think our ability to take collective action is in doubt.” Alfred’s calm voice was barely above the rising murmurs in the room, but the forbidding tone cut through the air like a knife and immediately caught everyone’s attention.
Arthur, himself, could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he was having a hard time keeping his heart beat at an even level. Alfred was watching the room’s occupants with a look bordering on disdain, covered with a healthy dollop of frustration and disappointment. His blue eyes shined with something indefinable – something altogether serious and determined, and Arthur suddenly found it difficult to breathe in the silence.
“ My boss’s administration has started to mount an ambitious plan to cut emissions. It is in our mutual interest to achieve a global accord in which we agree to steps, and hold each other accountable for certain commitments.” Alfred’s pointed gaze fell upon Yao and it was a testament to the power behind it that the older nation nearly flinched.
“I believe that the pieces of that accord should now be clear. Without such accountability, any agreement would be empty words on a page, and an international pact without such mechanisms would be a hollow victory.”
It was so quiet in the room, it was possible to hear a pin drop. Arthur’s throat had gone dry and he was sure his mouth was hanging open absurdly, but he couldn’t remember how to close it. He had no idea Alfred even knew how to sound so…so…
“I remind you all that my government’s pledge to contribute to a $100 billion international fund by 2020 was predicated on the establishment of a broader accord that contained effective reviews and covered all nations’ reductions commitments.” Alfred licked his lips, his eyes piercing, and Arthur felt something deep within himself buckle.
“Your bosses seem to prefer posturing to action,” Alfred’s voice hardened. “I’m sure many consider this an imperfect framework. No country will get everything it wants. There are those developing countries that want aid with no strings attached and no obligations of transparency. And there are those advanced nations who think that developing countries cannot absorb this assistance, and that the world’s fastest-growing emitters.” Alfred paused and looked pointedly at Yao and Sumana. “Should bear a greater share of the burden.”
Arthur was practically shaking now, his hands gripping the edge of the table for support as the world seemed to tilt out from under him. He vaguely noticed Francis staring hungrily at Alfred as if he could devour him with his eyes, and the same part of Arthur that had buckled was now snapping into a million pieces as he sent a glare across the table at him.
Alfred, for his part, seemed oblivious to the power struggle beginning to play out amongst the two notorious rivals on his behalf.
“We know the fault lines because we’ve been imprisoned by them for years. These international discussions…” Alfred practically spat out the word, his first sign of true emotion since he had entered the room. “have taken place for two decades. And we have very little to show for it except for an increase in the acceleration of the climate change phenomenon. If an accord is not reached at this summit, we will be back having the same stale arguments month after month, year after year, perhaps decade after decade – all while the danger of climate change grows until it is irreversible.”
The room was left silent as Alfred sat back in his chair, the only indication that he was done speaking.
Arthur watched Alfred’s muscular shoulders relax minutely beneath the fabric of his suit jacket and then there was a short, uncertain pause in the room, before Yao stared at Alfred and nodded, the corners of his lips ticking up a bit and his brown eyes gazing at the young nation as if only seeing him for the first time. Alfred nodded back, but he appeared even more fatigued then before, a telltale sigh escaping his lips as he relaxed even further into his chair.
The rest of the nations seemed to shake themselves out of their stupor, some sending Alfred looks of awe or bewilderment. The American didn’t even seem to notice as he closed his eyes and let his exhaustion show plainly to them all. Arthur felt a twinge of sympathy. He suddenly itched to comfort the American, but he didn’t know how. It was not something they necessarily did – not since Alfred had grown up.
And oh, how he’d grown up.
Arthur’s throat went dry again and he groaned pitifully as his face heated at the realization that he was completely and utterly attracted to the welp. His own sudden awkwardness and the lustful look on that frog’s face were certainly driving him mad though and he sent another heated glare Francis’s way.
Francis merely smiled at him bemusedly as if daring him to interfere. The pervert probably thought Arthur didn’t have the bollocks to make a move. Arthur growled low in his throat – and it wasn’t because he was frustrated that Francis knew him so well. Not at all.
Meanwhile, Yao sat down on the other side of the table and composed himself, followed by Ludwig. Yao sent Ludwig a conciliatory look. “I am willing to begin negotiations.”
Ludwig nodded gravely. “I am sure compromises can be made to reach an understanding.”
Yao nodded politely. “Of course.”
And then the rest of the nations got to work crafting some type of agreement. Alfred merely sat there, his eyes closed, the small smile on his face the only indication that he was pleased with the turn of events.
“Amerique, mon cher,” Francis’s voice was close – too close – and Arthur’s fists clenched at the lack of space between the frog’s face and Alfred’s as the American opened his eyes to look at the Frenchman in interest.
“C’etait magnifique,” Francis cooed, his dirty hand sliding along Alfred’s broad shoulders. Arthur clenched his teeth, but Alfred barely seemed to notice. Francis was speaking into Alfred’s ear, his Frog-breath blowing Alfred’s bangs asunder with every word. “You’ve become quite the negotiator.”
Alfred smiled tiredly – humorlessly. “Not really. It’s my boss.”
“Nonsense, mon cher,” Francis replied, moving closer so that he almost sat on the American’s lap, but settled upon one of the arms of his chair instead. Arthur was seething. Francis leaned in, his nose almost bumping with Alfred’s, running a finger along the nation’s chest. “You were very…persuasive.”
Francis sent Arthur a look of satisfaction and Arthur nearly retched.
“Er…thanks,” Alfred replied, an odd look crossing his face at the frog’s proximity. It seemed even his fatigue and usually thick head could not keep him from noticing the obviousness of Francis’s seduction. Arthur smirked.
But that feeling of triumph was short lived when Francis moved forward decisively, having the gall to grab an unsuspecting Alfred by the collar and pull the American toward him on a very focused trajectory. The frog nearly got what he wanted when Arthur completely forgot his caution and acted on instinct, pulling Alfred by the tie and smashing his lips against the American’s.
He could hear the frog’s frustrated whine of shock at the stolen opportunity but barely anything else as all of his focus suddenly zeroed in on the feel of Alfred’s soft lips frozen against his.
He fumbled for a moment, his lack of practice showing, before finding the use of his tongue and swiping it languidly along the stunned American’s bottom lip. He heard a sigh and the lips parted like the red sea, inviting him in. He took the invitation and entered, tasting his former charge for the first time – and enjoying it immensely.
It wasn’t long before a tongue came out to greet his own and he was shortly drowning in warmth, vaguely feeling broad hands roam along his back and send pleasurable shivers down his spine. His breath hitched and his lips parted involuntarily just enough for Alfred to invade and take over. He barely noticed he was dipping backward, an arm holding him up with a hand cradled at the nape of his neck to hold him steady.
His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he remembered to breathe when the lips finally left his, and he felt as though he was suddenly surfacing from beneath water, gasping a bit. He opened his eyes slowly to see Alfred staring down at him dazedly, a small quirk of a smile tugging the corners of his lips.
Arthur stared up at him, surely smiling stupidly, until the pleasure of the moment slowly faded and he realized just where he was and just what he had done. His cheeks heated and the inevitable awkwardness returned with a vengeance.
“Er…Erm…” Arthur spluttered, body stiffening in his awkward position, only Alfred holding him up as the taller nation still sat in his chair and leaned forward.
He stopped when a finger covered his lips and he looked up at Alfred in bewilderment. Alfred chuckled, his earlier fatigue mostly evaporating from his features.
“God, Iggy. That was better than crack!”
Arthur stared at him and then stared some more as Alfred’s smile became goofier by the second.
Crack…
CRACK...
CRACK????!!!
“WHAT???!!!!” Arthur yelled and began to flail mindlessly, not even noticing that Alfred nearly dropped him. “I KNEW IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!” He pointed an accusatory finger at a very shocked looking Alfred. “YOU’RE STILL AN IDIOT!”
“Hey!” Alfred retorted, actually looking hurt. His bottom lip jutted out into that familiarly childish pout that Arthur just loved to hate. “I’m not stupid.”
By now the entire room full of nations was watching their antics with bemused resignation, although Francis appeared slightly irritated.
“If you don’t want him, mon ami, I’ll take him off your hands.”
“Piss off and toss off, frog-breath!” Arthur snapped.
Arthur missed the look of disgust that passed over Alfred's features as just what he was ordering Francis to do sunk in.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I FELL FOR IT!” Arthur whinged angrily, turning his attention back to Alfred as if he’d never been distracted from his rant. “YOU’RE NOT MATURE AT…!”
His last word became muffled against Alfred’s lips, and he struggled a bit uselessly until Alfred pried his lips open with his tongue and freely plundered his mouth, rendering him completely lax in his arms. The kiss was languid, almost lazy, yet sensual, and Arthur couldn’t keep the answering groan from vibrating in his chest. After deeming it a sufficient amount of time, Alfred nibbled his lower lip and soothed it with his tongue before finally pulling away.
Yet again, Arthur was gasping for breath and staring up at Alfred like a deer caught in the headlights.
Alfred grinned down at him rakishly. “Is that mature enough for you?”
Arthur swallowed, and Alfred clearly knew he’d won.
Bloody hell.
He was royally screwed.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Finis
AN: All of Alfred’s words during his speech were taken almost verbatim from Obama’s speech at the Copenhagen Climate Treaty Summit on the last day, December 18th. Obama was also pretty frustrated with what had gone on while he wasn’t there. And he also wasn’t there because of the Health Care Reform debate in the Senate. So I kinda just tied that in with Alfred. Hehe.
Sumana is what I chose to name India. It's the name of a childhood friend of mine.
I hope you enjoyed thislokichan2004. It was a fun prompt to write.
Author:
phoenixdown7 Recipient:
lokichan2004 Genre: humor…erm…romance?
Rating/Warning: PG-13 , due to the cursing by a certain someone with bushy eyebrows. I’m not naming any names.
Summary: The Copenhagen Climate talks are not going well and Arthur has given up. Needless to say, only a true hero can save the world. Arthur is only shocked to learn that hero is actually Alfred.
Notes: The original prompt was “England kissing America senseless, during a meeting”. I have only just realized after typing this out that this might not be exactly what she was looking for, but I hope she likes it anyway!
“Watch where you’re riding, you sodding wanker!” Arthur snapped, wringing his fist at a bicyclist as they passed, before scowling down at the dirty puddle-water splashed across his suit jacket and soaking into the expensive argyle vest beneath. The offending cyclist ignored him completely and, after a long moment, he dropped his fist but kept his hands firmly clenched, his eyebrows twitching in irritation before he finally moved to get out of the rain.
He muttered a “Bloody Copenhagen!” under his breath, before he pushed through the doors of the building where the climate conference was being held – had been held for the last eleven days – amongst the representative nations.
His mood only darkened as he neared the conference room and he could feel the edge of the binder full of useless paperwork from his boss digging into his palm. The occupants were already arguing as he approached the entrance. He could hear their agitated whinging through the crack between the double doors, and it made him want to slam his head against the wall and be done with it.
They had come to agree upon a new climate treaty to replace the largely unsuccessful Kyoto Protocols, but the debate had quickly devolved into arcane squabbling about entitlements and inequality in monetary investment and responsibility between the richer and poorer nations. In short, no one was agreeing on anything and the very idea that they were supposed to be debating climate change and its impact on their planet seemed to be lost in the subsequent deluge of bullshit.
And, of course, to top it all off, the bleeding Yank – one of the only nations who could even try to broker a deal with Yao and Sumana - had been absent for the entire proceeding – a whole eleven days – and there was only one day left to find any semblance of common ground.
Not that Alfred would actually be of any help. Arthur rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, resting his forehead against one of the doors with fatigue. If he had to hear the ignorant tosser stride in late only to run his bleating mouth off about giant space robots blocking the sun one more time, he would surely be powerless to stop his hands from finding Alfred’s neck and finishing what he couldn’t during the Revolution.
At least that would get rid of the largest contributor in the world to global warming, he allowed himself a tired smirk at the thought. He shook his head. It was a bloody shame that was about the only way he could see this meeting becoming productive.
Eventually, Arthur pushed through the double doors with more force than he’d meant, before plopping down heavily into his usual seat.
Francis merely nodded to him, his lack of humorous ribbing a sure sign that he was just as exhausted as Arthur was and perhaps just as irritated with the spectacle of Ludwig barking green talking-points at a tense-looking Yao from across the table. Sumana and Kiku were in the midst of polite chit-chat, most likely not pertaining to climate change at all and probably more along the lines of what type of curry they liked best. Arthur rolled his eyes when Sumana tellingly pulled out a yellow curry packet from her sari and gave it to Kiku. Entirely too predictable.
The rest of the occupants of the room either appeared bored or tense, or both – some of them sending him and Francis weary looks as the more reluctant nations had been on the receiving end of their unusually collective diatribe about how they all had to take responsibility, no matter the cost, or they would all lose their natural resources. That had been, of course, when Arthur still had had the energy to fight for what he had believed was right. Before he had realized that many of the third-world nations just didn’t trust him or Francis, or any of the first-world nations in particular, to keep their end of the bargain and not use this treaty as an excuse to swindle them out of their hard-earned time and money.
Arthur sighed, doing his best to ignore the accusing stares being sent his way. He could hardly care anymore. He was sure this entire convention had been a lost cause from the very start. There was simply too much history between the participating nations and his cynical outlook informed him that eleven days of bickering could never solve hundreds of years of distrust. He could now only hope to get out of this alive by brainstorming with his boss on a good way to spin this utter waste of time into something positive. Goodness knows his boss was already getting it from both ends. He couldn’t survive another defeat like this.
He had just dropped his forehead onto his folded arms in front of him when a loud bang from behind startled him into an upright position. He looked behind him to see Alfred standing stiffly, his large frame nearly filling in the doorway.
Arthur was about to say something, his mouth already open, but no sound escaped his throat as he took in Alfred’s entire appearance.
Arthur was shocked to see a tense frown etched into the superpower’s usually youthful face, making him look older and graver. Dark rings marred the skin beneath his blue eyes that were already trained steadily upon the forms of the bickering Ludwig and Yao. Ludwig and Yao had failed to notice his entrance, but the rest of the room was deathly silent, the other nations looking between Alfred and the arguing pair with growing trepidation.
Francis looked particularly shell-shocked at Alfred’s uncharacteristically subdued demeanor, and even he seemed to feel the indescribable weight that now filled the air with foreboding as Alfred strode silently to the open seat beside Arthur and sat down.
“Alfred…” Arthur murmured, leaning over toward the American and taking in the slight pallor of his cheeks. “Alright?”
The question sounded a bit lame, even to his own ears, but Alfred actually nodded stiffly after a moment, tearing his piercing gaze away from Ludwig and Yao in order to glance at him. His explanation was clipped, his voice rough in a way that sent a peculiar tingle down Arthur’s spine. “Health Care.”
“Ah,” Arthur replied weakly. He hadn’t known Alfred had been having that bad a time of it. In reality, he had never suspected Alfred could have gotten so ruffled and strained about anything. Whatever was happening with the debate back in his legislature, it must have been frustrating and draining.
Yao’s voice, suddenly higher in tone, pierced through his thoughts.
“We have been able to curb green house gas emissions on our own, Ludwig.” Yao appeared irritated, his hand now resting on the table as he leaned forward into Ludwig’s personal space. “We see no reason, or advantage, to limiting our emissions to a binding treaty or subjugating them to outside verification.”
Some other nations around the room made murmurs of agreement, and Yao looked pleased as Ludwig spluttered before rearing back to retort, but he was interrupted.
“I think our ability to take collective action is in doubt.” Alfred’s calm voice was barely above the rising murmurs in the room, but the forbidding tone cut through the air like a knife and immediately caught everyone’s attention.
Arthur, himself, could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he was having a hard time keeping his heart beat at an even level. Alfred was watching the room’s occupants with a look bordering on disdain, covered with a healthy dollop of frustration and disappointment. His blue eyes shined with something indefinable – something altogether serious and determined, and Arthur suddenly found it difficult to breathe in the silence.
“ My boss’s administration has started to mount an ambitious plan to cut emissions. It is in our mutual interest to achieve a global accord in which we agree to steps, and hold each other accountable for certain commitments.” Alfred’s pointed gaze fell upon Yao and it was a testament to the power behind it that the older nation nearly flinched.
“I believe that the pieces of that accord should now be clear. Without such accountability, any agreement would be empty words on a page, and an international pact without such mechanisms would be a hollow victory.”
It was so quiet in the room, it was possible to hear a pin drop. Arthur’s throat had gone dry and he was sure his mouth was hanging open absurdly, but he couldn’t remember how to close it. He had no idea Alfred even knew how to sound so…so…
“I remind you all that my government’s pledge to contribute to a $100 billion international fund by 2020 was predicated on the establishment of a broader accord that contained effective reviews and covered all nations’ reductions commitments.” Alfred licked his lips, his eyes piercing, and Arthur felt something deep within himself buckle.
“Your bosses seem to prefer posturing to action,” Alfred’s voice hardened. “I’m sure many consider this an imperfect framework. No country will get everything it wants. There are those developing countries that want aid with no strings attached and no obligations of transparency. And there are those advanced nations who think that developing countries cannot absorb this assistance, and that the world’s fastest-growing emitters.” Alfred paused and looked pointedly at Yao and Sumana. “Should bear a greater share of the burden.”
Arthur was practically shaking now, his hands gripping the edge of the table for support as the world seemed to tilt out from under him. He vaguely noticed Francis staring hungrily at Alfred as if he could devour him with his eyes, and the same part of Arthur that had buckled was now snapping into a million pieces as he sent a glare across the table at him.
Alfred, for his part, seemed oblivious to the power struggle beginning to play out amongst the two notorious rivals on his behalf.
“We know the fault lines because we’ve been imprisoned by them for years. These international discussions…” Alfred practically spat out the word, his first sign of true emotion since he had entered the room. “have taken place for two decades. And we have very little to show for it except for an increase in the acceleration of the climate change phenomenon. If an accord is not reached at this summit, we will be back having the same stale arguments month after month, year after year, perhaps decade after decade – all while the danger of climate change grows until it is irreversible.”
The room was left silent as Alfred sat back in his chair, the only indication that he was done speaking.
Arthur watched Alfred’s muscular shoulders relax minutely beneath the fabric of his suit jacket and then there was a short, uncertain pause in the room, before Yao stared at Alfred and nodded, the corners of his lips ticking up a bit and his brown eyes gazing at the young nation as if only seeing him for the first time. Alfred nodded back, but he appeared even more fatigued then before, a telltale sigh escaping his lips as he relaxed even further into his chair.
The rest of the nations seemed to shake themselves out of their stupor, some sending Alfred looks of awe or bewilderment. The American didn’t even seem to notice as he closed his eyes and let his exhaustion show plainly to them all. Arthur felt a twinge of sympathy. He suddenly itched to comfort the American, but he didn’t know how. It was not something they necessarily did – not since Alfred had grown up.
And oh, how he’d grown up.
Arthur’s throat went dry again and he groaned pitifully as his face heated at the realization that he was completely and utterly attracted to the welp. His own sudden awkwardness and the lustful look on that frog’s face were certainly driving him mad though and he sent another heated glare Francis’s way.
Francis merely smiled at him bemusedly as if daring him to interfere. The pervert probably thought Arthur didn’t have the bollocks to make a move. Arthur growled low in his throat – and it wasn’t because he was frustrated that Francis knew him so well. Not at all.
Meanwhile, Yao sat down on the other side of the table and composed himself, followed by Ludwig. Yao sent Ludwig a conciliatory look. “I am willing to begin negotiations.”
Ludwig nodded gravely. “I am sure compromises can be made to reach an understanding.”
Yao nodded politely. “Of course.”
And then the rest of the nations got to work crafting some type of agreement. Alfred merely sat there, his eyes closed, the small smile on his face the only indication that he was pleased with the turn of events.
“Amerique, mon cher,” Francis’s voice was close – too close – and Arthur’s fists clenched at the lack of space between the frog’s face and Alfred’s as the American opened his eyes to look at the Frenchman in interest.
“C’etait magnifique,” Francis cooed, his dirty hand sliding along Alfred’s broad shoulders. Arthur clenched his teeth, but Alfred barely seemed to notice. Francis was speaking into Alfred’s ear, his Frog-breath blowing Alfred’s bangs asunder with every word. “You’ve become quite the negotiator.”
Alfred smiled tiredly – humorlessly. “Not really. It’s my boss.”
“Nonsense, mon cher,” Francis replied, moving closer so that he almost sat on the American’s lap, but settled upon one of the arms of his chair instead. Arthur was seething. Francis leaned in, his nose almost bumping with Alfred’s, running a finger along the nation’s chest. “You were very…persuasive.”
Francis sent Arthur a look of satisfaction and Arthur nearly retched.
“Er…thanks,” Alfred replied, an odd look crossing his face at the frog’s proximity. It seemed even his fatigue and usually thick head could not keep him from noticing the obviousness of Francis’s seduction. Arthur smirked.
But that feeling of triumph was short lived when Francis moved forward decisively, having the gall to grab an unsuspecting Alfred by the collar and pull the American toward him on a very focused trajectory. The frog nearly got what he wanted when Arthur completely forgot his caution and acted on instinct, pulling Alfred by the tie and smashing his lips against the American’s.
He could hear the frog’s frustrated whine of shock at the stolen opportunity but barely anything else as all of his focus suddenly zeroed in on the feel of Alfred’s soft lips frozen against his.
He fumbled for a moment, his lack of practice showing, before finding the use of his tongue and swiping it languidly along the stunned American’s bottom lip. He heard a sigh and the lips parted like the red sea, inviting him in. He took the invitation and entered, tasting his former charge for the first time – and enjoying it immensely.
It wasn’t long before a tongue came out to greet his own and he was shortly drowning in warmth, vaguely feeling broad hands roam along his back and send pleasurable shivers down his spine. His breath hitched and his lips parted involuntarily just enough for Alfred to invade and take over. He barely noticed he was dipping backward, an arm holding him up with a hand cradled at the nape of his neck to hold him steady.
His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he remembered to breathe when the lips finally left his, and he felt as though he was suddenly surfacing from beneath water, gasping a bit. He opened his eyes slowly to see Alfred staring down at him dazedly, a small quirk of a smile tugging the corners of his lips.
Arthur stared up at him, surely smiling stupidly, until the pleasure of the moment slowly faded and he realized just where he was and just what he had done. His cheeks heated and the inevitable awkwardness returned with a vengeance.
“Er…Erm…” Arthur spluttered, body stiffening in his awkward position, only Alfred holding him up as the taller nation still sat in his chair and leaned forward.
He stopped when a finger covered his lips and he looked up at Alfred in bewilderment. Alfred chuckled, his earlier fatigue mostly evaporating from his features.
“God, Iggy. That was better than crack!”
Arthur stared at him and then stared some more as Alfred’s smile became goofier by the second.
Crack…
CRACK...
CRACK????!!!
“WHAT???!!!!” Arthur yelled and began to flail mindlessly, not even noticing that Alfred nearly dropped him. “I KNEW IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!” He pointed an accusatory finger at a very shocked looking Alfred. “YOU’RE STILL AN IDIOT!”
“Hey!” Alfred retorted, actually looking hurt. His bottom lip jutted out into that familiarly childish pout that Arthur just loved to hate. “I’m not stupid.”
By now the entire room full of nations was watching their antics with bemused resignation, although Francis appeared slightly irritated.
“If you don’t want him, mon ami, I’ll take him off your hands.”
“Piss off and toss off, frog-breath!” Arthur snapped.
Arthur missed the look of disgust that passed over Alfred's features as just what he was ordering Francis to do sunk in.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I FELL FOR IT!” Arthur whinged angrily, turning his attention back to Alfred as if he’d never been distracted from his rant. “YOU’RE NOT MATURE AT…!”
His last word became muffled against Alfred’s lips, and he struggled a bit uselessly until Alfred pried his lips open with his tongue and freely plundered his mouth, rendering him completely lax in his arms. The kiss was languid, almost lazy, yet sensual, and Arthur couldn’t keep the answering groan from vibrating in his chest. After deeming it a sufficient amount of time, Alfred nibbled his lower lip and soothed it with his tongue before finally pulling away.
Yet again, Arthur was gasping for breath and staring up at Alfred like a deer caught in the headlights.
Alfred grinned down at him rakishly. “Is that mature enough for you?”
Arthur swallowed, and Alfred clearly knew he’d won.
Bloody hell.
He was royally screwed.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Finis
AN: All of Alfred’s words during his speech were taken almost verbatim from Obama’s speech at the Copenhagen Climate Treaty Summit on the last day, December 18th. Obama was also pretty frustrated with what had gone on while he wasn’t there. And he also wasn’t there because of the Health Care Reform debate in the Senate. So I kinda just tied that in with Alfred. Hehe.
Sumana is what I chose to name India. It's the name of a childhood friend of mine.
I hope you enjoyed this
lokichan2004. It was a fun prompt to write. 
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}