WHOA. hello again my dear readers. this time its wingtalia that im writing! ive decided that im gonna do like a request type thing? leave a review with a pairing or character you want something about and if i can think of something for them ill write it! of course, you can ask for more about the usuk nerds too hehe (they're the central characters i suppose? im not sure)

if you want to know what ships ill write, you can look on my profile! i ship more than that, of course (those are just my mains), cos really i ship lots and lots of things. don't ask for 2p or nyotalia though, please, as im not gonna include those in this au.

It started when he saved Alfred from crashing. A fledgling, too young and undeveloped to even consider taking flight, had decided to go against everything his parents had said, and stood at the top of a precipice. Alfred spread his small wings, the feathers pale yellow as they practically shone in the hot sun. Fearless and stupid with excitement, he jumped.

The young Arthur had been idling far below, eating a rabbit that he had caught and cooked. He did little in his spare time, as he was very lonesome and stayed away from others. A recluse, if you will. He had heard a whistling and screaming from above, and looked up. He had only a split second to react, but within it, spread his golden wings and shot upward to catch the falling boy in his arms.

"What the hell were you doing?!" Arthur cursed as he fluttered gently down and put this strange fledgling on the safe ground.

"Flying, duh," Alfred retorted, crossing his arms and folding his wings against his back.

"You were going to crash and break your neck." He muttered.

"Nuh uh, I was flying!"

"Do you want to see real flying?" asked Arthur, spreading his wings as if showing off to the boy.

"Hmmph.." Alfred mumbled. "Fine, whatever. I'm totally a better flier than you, I bet." Arthur scoffed, put down the rabbit, and took flight. Alfred could only watch in awe as he soared, wings a flash of barley gold against the blue of the summer sky. He landed after perhaps five minutes, grinning and smug.

"Whoa!" cried Alfred, jumping over towards him, wings fluttering - as he had neglected to fold them - before running up to Arthur. "You gotta teach me how to do that!"

"I don't have to teach you anything." Arthur scoffed, sitting down and nibbling at his charred rabbit once again. "I don't even know your name."

"Alfred!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "And I'm gonna be the best flier ever! 'Specially if you teach me, mister!"

"My name is Arthur." He mused quietly.

"Finally," sighed Alfred, stretching his fully-grown wings. "It's time to show you what I can do now. 'Cos I've totally improved since the last test."

"Uh huh," mused Arthur, raising a brow. "Yes, I'm sure you've learned so much over the course of a week."

"I'm totally better! I learned to do a new thing!" Alfred boasted. "Well, actually, Francis taught me." Some point, over the years spent living together and training and teaching Alfred to fly, Arthur had been dragged up to live with the flock, courtesy of the American. There, he had been reunited with old enemies, and met many new faces. He still wasn't completely comfortable with living around others, but he guessed that there was safety in numbers.

"If Francis told you, then it's probably dangerous and you shouldn't do it." Arthur muttered sourly. Francis was one of the old enemies, rather than new friend or acquaintance. Alfred sighed and shrugged, walking nervously up to the edge of the craggy rockface. He was still a bit shaken up over heights while flying, due to his plummeting all that time ago, but he was convinced he could do it.

He looked up to the sky, took a deep breath, and jumped. He let himself fall for a moment, with Arthur on standby if he did take a turn for the worse. When he reached his best speed, Alfred spread his wings and soared back upward, riding the winds and flapping when he needed to. His flying style was sleek, obviously similar to Arthur's, as he had been Alfred's mentor. Now ready to show off, Alfred started flying in a straight line.

As he neared the cliff face again, he dipped one wing to the side, and caused himself to turn. Arthur seemed unimpressed. Determined to win the Brit's approval, Alfred tilted his other wing in the same way, and rolled mid-air. After repeating that a few times, he fluttered down and landed beside Arthur, puffing and wiping a line of sweat from his brow. "How was that?"

"Dangerous." Arthur chided softly, walking over and pouting. "You really need to wash your wings, they're such a mess." He scolded, gently reaching up and picking at some clumpy feathers, trying to work out what was causing them to form a tuft.

"You don't even care that I just did like four super awesome side flips," whined Alfred, flicking his wing a little and brushing the tips against Arthur.

"You could've gotten hurt with such a dangerous maneuver," he grumbled, parting the mat in Alfred's wing and revealing a little patch of dried blood. "Alfred, care to explain?"

"I kinda did get hurt during practice," he shrugged. "But it's no biggie."

"You need to fly more responsibly," Arthur muttered, tutting and letting his fingers linger amongst Alfred's golden feathers for a moment. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"Just a little."

Arthur led on the flight back home, 'home' being a rocky outcrop atop a tall mountain. A few others seemed to be here right now, but not many. Arthur landed on his feet, and turned to help Alfred land as well. Usually, Alfred would try to land on his own when going down the mountain to hunt or practice flying, but this was home, and the ground was hard stone. It hurt to crash land on stone, as opposed to grass or a treetop.

Alfred slowed down his flight and awkwardly tried to fold his wings a bit. Instead of gracefully landing into Arthur's arms as per usual, he messed up and ended up just knocking the Briton over, and then unceremoniously falling against the smooth rocky ground.

"Thanks!" shouted Arthur, pissed off as he scrambled to his feet. "Bloody thanks, Alfred!"

"Sorry," he laughed, getting up also and rubbing his head. "If it makes you feel any better, I may or may not have just been concussed."

"You ass." Arthur grunted, going over and gently punching Alfred's chest.

"Arthur, Alfred!" a voice cooed, and the man's fingers rested gently on Alfred's wing. In reflex, Alfred spun around on his heel and booted this man square in the stomach.

"Hands off the wings!" Alfred spat, before his eyes widened and he laughed, realising who he'd just punted. "Oh, hey Francis." Arthur was cackling at the downed and winded Frenchman.

"Hey," Francis wheezed, slowly staggering back up to his feet. "Alfred, did you do that move I taught you?"

"He won't be learning any more flight techniques from you," Arthur sneered, giving his rival a glare before taking Alfred's arm and leading him away. "He'll get hurt."

Arthur led Alfred to the nearby river, pouting and muttering curses upon Francis's name.

"Dude, do you have ta' be so mean to him? He just taught me a cool move, that's all," Alfred frowned, wandering after his close friend. "He didn't mean for me to get hurt, that was my fault, anyway. I crashed into a tree."

Arthur rolled up his trousers and went to the riverbank, instructing Alfred to follow. "I probably overreacted," he muttered. "I just don't want you getting hurt, all right?" he mumbled, bringing Alfred to the water and gently splashing some water onto his injured wing.

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Arthur was very gentle as he washed the hypersensitive feathers, making sure to get any grit or blood out of the wings. Wings in general were a very tender subject. The unspoken rule amongst the flock was not to touch the wings of another, unless you were close to them and they gave you permission. The troublemakers of the flock would often go about poking everyone's wings when they were asleep, which woke them up almost instantly. It was very special to have permission to touch another's wings, really.

He finished before too long, and led Alfred over to the cliff face so that they could sit and watch the sunset as they usually did. Alfred flicked his wingtips playfully in Arthur's direction, leaving the Briton covered in little drops of water.

"Thanks, arsehole."

"You're welcome."

As the afternoon sky turned pink and orange, Arthur slowly unfolded one wing and put it around Alfred's back. In quick response, Alfred's damp wing shot out and curled around the Briton.

"Thanks for washing 'em," Alfred sighed, leaning back on his hands and kicking his legs childishly over the edge of the rock. "It's really hard to wash your own wings, 'specially when they're as big as mine are."

"Now you're just boasting." Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes and shuffling a little closer to the American.

"Maybe." He shrugged. In this moment, he seemed to formulate some kind of idea.

"Hey, Arthur? D'you reckon I could.. Uh.." he mumbled, trailing off.

"What?" asked Arthur, exasperated.

"Could I," Alfred tried again, pausing and gently moving his hand towards Arthur's sleek feathers. Arthur naturally flinched and his wing jolted back a little, but slowly, he moved it back to its previous position.

"Mmhm," he said quietly, watching Alfred's hand a little fretfully. "You're the only person who has permission now," he laughed a touch bitterly. "It's only fair, since I'm allowed to touch yours."

Gently, Alfred moved his fingers up against the wing close to his own back, and felt his cheeks turning a little pink. "They're so soft," he cooed quietly, gently tousling the small tufts of feathers and then running his hand slowly across the smaller black-tipped feathers that were closer to Arthur's shoulder blade. Arthur was blushing incredibly, redder than the crimson sunset in front of them.

"T-there, now you can stop." Arthur mumbled, folding his wing in a touch flusteredly. "It's embarrassing."

"Thanks, Artie," Alfred cooed softly, returning his hands to the ground to support himself with, and smiling. "I've been wanting to do that since we met."

"Just because I still have fledgling fluff in places," he muttered to himself, crossing his arms.

"It's cute, don't worry." Alfred shrugged, watching the sun go down now. "I've still got puppy fat," he mused. "Funny that we call it that, considering we're more bird than dog."

"We're not dog at all," Arthur mumbled. "But I must admit that your chubbiness is kind of endearing."

"Aww," he cooed, putting a hand to his cheek. "Anyway, maybe we should go back and rejoin the others? Its our turn on patrol tonight, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Arthur sighed, getting up and extending a hand to help Alfred to his feet.

"Patrol's so annoying," groaned Alfred, slumping over once standing up.

"It's necessary." Arthur scolded, frowning. "You know how awful it'd be if full-blooded humans found us."

"Yeah, fair enough," he mumbled. "That's scary. I don't wanna end up like Ivan has," he shuddered, thinking of the Russian and frowning.

"Poor fellow. At least he has Yao." Arthur sighed. "Well, shall we go?"

"Yup!" Alfred cheered, lightening up in an instant. "Let's go!" With that encouraging call, both he and Arthur took flight once more.

ayy thats chapter 1 down. leave reviews and stuff saying what character/ship you want me to focus on next chapter? school is a shit so i dont know how often ill update shrug