AUTHOR: empressvegah

February 1st, 2014 - Saved the Best for Last

"Man, Artie, I really think she's the one," Alfred sighed one day while invading Arthur's living room, specifically his couch. His head was on Arthur's lap while his best friend of eleven years was reading a book, probably one of those classics he was never interested in. He glanced up at his mobile phone, the picture of a platinum blonde girl with a white bow on her head, lovely deep blue eyes, and a somber yet beautiful expression on her face was staring back at him. He sighed again and thrust the device to his best friend's face. "Just look at her! Ain't she pretty, Artie?"

Arthur moved his face away from the phone, narrowing his eyes at the image reflected on the screen. "Isn't she… Natalya? Ivan's sister?"

Alfred glanced up only to see Arthur visibly shudder. "Step-sister. You don't think she's pretty?" He asked, sounding hurt, and he suddenly got up from his comfortable place on Arthur's lap and moved even closer to Arthur's face to mock-glare at him. He saw the shorter blond turn red and stuttered, "N-no! It's not like that, I, uh, just don't like Ivan that much."

Alfred visibly relaxed nodded in understanding, still not moving away from his invasion of Arthur's personal space. "Neither do I, but I can't just pass up this chance, because she might be the one," he exclaimed, then flopped back down on Arthur's lap. "Artie, you gotta meet her sometime. She's really great! She moves so fluidly, and her eyes just pull me to her."

"That's what you said the last time too, and the one before that," Arthur answered stiffly, turning a page of his book. He had this conversation with Alfred for the last year, and the git was so hopeful each time, he almost didn't have the heart to put him down. But he had to. This was going on for far too long, and the man had never found that one person whom he would spend his life with. The idiot on his lap just wanted someone he could share everything with, from his joy, to his sadness, to his achievements, and failures. Just someone he could share his life with, and who would want him regardless of the ups and downs of their lives. This insufferable, hopeless romantic fool.

Alfred abruptly got up from his favorite perch on Arthur's lap and exclaimed, "Artie! I just can't wait anymore, I gotta see her! And see you later!" And just like that, he went off. Arthur looked at the retreating back with longing, and once the door was slammed close, he closed his eyes and sighed. "You dense idiot," he muttered dejectedly, "Why can't you see what's right in front of you?"

USUK

It was already late and the rain was pouring heavily outside. Arthur just had dinner and was about to put the plates away when someone knocked. He wondered who was knocking persistently against his door. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a drenched Alfred, and concern immediately blossomed in his chest. "Alfred, what – why are you so wet!" He pulled him in and guided him to the bathroom where the towels were kept. Taking one, he tossed it over Alfred's head and started drying his hair off. "Why in the blazes are you walking late at night in this heavy rain? It won't be good for you if you get sick. No one's in your home to take care of you," he scolded, but when he slid off the towel from Alfred's head, he saw a look on his face that spoke volumes of heartbreak.

It was the look Arthur was far too acquainted with.

"Oh, Alfred," he pulled the man into his arms, uncaring of the wet clothes that soaked his dry ones. They stood there for a moment, Arthur holding Alfred's head against his shoulder – even if Arthur had to tiptoe a bit to pull Alfred against him – while the taller man clung to his shirt.

"Artie, I… I'm so stupid. I honestly believed she's the one, but she's… she's… she's just using me to make Ivan jealous," Alfred finally admitted what happened for the past week, and Arthur felt another pang in his chest upon hearing how Alfred really believed in his happy ending. It hadn't been over two weeks since Alfred told him about Natalya, but the pain his best friend was feeling was real. But sometimes, Arthur couldn't help but wonder if Alfred would stop hurting if he was the one the insufferable git would love.

Arthur invited Alfred to spend the night in his home, and he did his best to distract him from the pain he was feeling by entertaining him with movies and junk food and anything he knew Alfred liked. He even allowed Alfred to sleep on his bed beside him, knowing just how clingy his best friend was whenever he was hurting. When morning came, the American squeezed Arthur, which made the shorter man blush red – he didn't want to imagine how his mornings would be if Alfred was with him like this.

His best friend left looking better than he was before, and a bittersweet smile graced Arthur's lips. As long as Alfred was happy, then he would be, too.

Three months passed before Alfred invaded Arthur's living room again, specifically his couch. His head was still on Arthur's lap, and this time, the shorter man was embroidering. "Arthur," he began, his tone a bit on the serious end, and Arthur stopped what he was doing to look down at Alfred. "What is it, Alfred?" He never called him Arthur unless it was something grave. His heart sped up.

"I found the one I would spend my life with," Alfred began, his eyes never leaving Arthur's green ones. The Englishman's throat went dry. No, not again. Alfred reached for his mobile and tapped the screen to life. He showed it to Arthur, his eyes betraying his anxiety. Arthur looked down at the phone and gasped.

His picture was smiling back at him.