What We Are

"I don't understand," Alfred says. "Why are they like this?"

"Why shouldn't they be?" Arthur asks. "Look at what we're capable of. Look at the terrible things we've done."

"That wasn't us."

"It was our kind. They hold us all accountable for the sins of our species."

"Don't say species, like we're not all human."

"We're not. We're evolved," Arthur says with a scoff.

"You sound like him."

"Braginski? I'm not. He relishes being one of us; I want to be one of them."

"Arthur," Alfred whispers, turning to him with those big blue eyes. He reaches over and Arthur instinctively snatches his hands back.

"You have your gloves on."

"Yes, well, that doesn't mean you should still try to touch me."

"I want to touch you."

"Don't say that. I hate when you say that."

"I like you."

"Don't say that either."

"But-"

Arthur abruptly stands up and strides from the common room.

Alfred stares at the doorway long after he's left. On the TV the news displays the anti-Mutant demonstrations raging across the world.

#

Arthur Kirkland had disliked Alfred F. Jones on sight. He'd strutted into Vargas' School for Gifted Youngsters with a toothpaste advert smile and the easy confidence of the jock he was and instantly enamoured half the student body. It took him all of two days to acclimate to the new life, to make friends, to find his place within a house of outsiders. In no time at all life before Alfred was unimaginable.

Arthur, though, couldn't stand him. His oh-so-mysterious past became the topic of gossip and rumours flew around in classrooms and during lunch and then again over foosball in the common room – he'd been mobbed by Friends of Humanity, no, no, it was Sentinels and he defeated them, actually he was head-hunted by the Brotherhood of Mutants but turned them down, nah, what really happened was – until Arthur fled to the library to lose himself in the classics. And as if listening to speculation wasn't bad enough, Arthur had to deal with the real thing in more than half his subjects and then again in their dorm room where Alfred neighboured in the bed beside his own.

It came to him on a sunny afternoon (courtesy of Elizabeta) that he hated Alfred. Arthur sat under a tree, The Hobbit in hand and sipping at his flask of tea, until a thunderous crash ripped through the silence.

He leapt to his feet, body tuned to a flight response. Then he saw the destroyed grand piano with Roderich trapped beneath and Gilbert off to the side unmoving. Arthur raced towards them as Alfred sprinted from the opposite of the field. Alfred reached them first and heaved the piano away as if it was made of air. Arthur joined them as Alfred tossed the remaining debris aside to find Roderich crying out in pain.

"I've got you dude," Alfred said and knelt beside him. "Where are you hurt?"

Arthur left them and dropped beside a groaning Gilbert.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Did it hit you too?"

"No, I fell on top and smacked my skull. Hurts like a bitch."

"On top? Did you teleport a fucking grand piano to crush Roderich?"

"What? Nein, I miscalculated. I wanted to land it in front of him and make him piss himself."

"Lovely."

Blood dribbled down the side of Gilbert's head.

"You're bleeding," Arthur said and pointed to his wound.

Before his hand came close to meeting skin, Gilbert jerked backwards. "What the hell?"

Arthur slumped back on his heels, his stomach knotting. "I wasn't going to touch you."

"You could have slipped."

"I'm wearing gloves. I'm always wearing gloves."

"You weren't when you nearly killed Feli."

Arthur's insides twisted. He remembered Feli collapsing to the ground, wings convulsing, breath harsh and gasping. "He touched me," Arthur whispered, his voice cracking. "That wasn't my fault."

"What about that dude back in England?"

Arthur recoiled as if he'd been slapped. Gilbert had no right to talk about Naveen, no right to talk about something he knew nothing about. "Fuck you," he snapped, his voice brittle. He stormed away, a thick lump clogging his throat and his fingers clutching the hem of his shirt. As he passed Alfred he found the American staring at him, eyes wide and mouth dumbly open.

Arthur said nothing and returned to collect his things under the tree. On the field more people had arrived to praise Alfred for his quick actions, to cheer him on for saving Roderich's life.

Arthur realised he hated Alfred. He hated him because he was tall and handsome and charismatic. He hated him because he had powers that could save lives instead of ending them. He hated him because when people looked at Alfred they saw a hero; when they looked at Arthur they saw a villain masquerading as a boy.

A/N: De-anon for my first fill for the Hetalia Kink Meme (and my first USUK fic!) requesting a X-Men AU.

And I'm aware both the title and summary sucks but I don't have anything better.