Kiss it Better

"Arthur!" cried a terrified, little boy voice.

Alfred was crying in pain from his knee. A small stream of blood trailed down his leg, the scab was dirty from the clumsy fall and Arthur was caressing little Alfred's head softly.

Arthur sighed, "See, I told you not to run so fast."

"I'm sorry..." Alfred sniffed apologetically, wiping his tears on the back of his hands.

"Don't worry, love," he reassured Alfred soothingly, "it's just a cut. I'll fix it for you with magic." Arthur lowered his face to the boy's knee and, with a few well-chosen spells, muttered under his breath as Alfred's cut began to seal itself.

When the spell finished, Alfred glanced down, eyes watery, to the clean and healed knee. However, this seemed to make Alfred ask Arthur if he could kiss the cut. Arthur smiled at the sensitive boy and gave his knee a little kiss filled with love and happiness. After that, Alfred got up, took Arthur's hand and said he was ready to go home.

Arthur reminisced how Alfred had affected his life for the better as they walked down the dirt path out of the small forest, and how all now was less tragic and sorrowful as before... It felt blissful. Arthur wanted to teach Alfred right about the world, but like any other guardian, knew the hardships of the world outside and thought it was better to speak of it later on. If he knew too much about what was going on, all the depression and wars, who knows what could happen?

"Arthur" said Alfred, "thank you for kissing my knee!" Alfred chided at him and squeezed his hand.

Arthur beamed happily, "Of course. I love you so much."

"I love you, too! I only love you and no one else, because you always make me smile!" Alfred grinned blissfully, Arthur became cheerful than ever before. Nothing could change their delighted relationship.

XxXxXxX

"Arthur...?" Alfred lamentably stared at the Brit, sleeping and snoring loudly.

Alfred puffed his cheeks. How dare Arthur slept during Alfred's speech? Today's conference was over and everyone left, but he had the nerve to sleep! Out of all the times he could have had taken a nap it was now, the freaking Briton.

"You jerk," Alfred cursed under his breath. "How could you do that to me?" Abruptly his hand reached to Arthur's shoulder and without knowing the consequences shook him rapidly.

Right away, Arthur awakened and on spur of moment collapsed dejectedly on the ground. "Bloody hell!" Arthur cried painfully, trying to get up but then, clumsily, banged his head outrageously under the table and cried in agony. From what Alfred's ears could hear he was definitely in pain.

"Oh, my god! Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not, idiot!" screeched Arthur angrily, moving his body away from under the table and stumbled up, rubbing his head to rid the thumping pain swelling. "Whatever you have to say," he hissed, "say it when I'm not sleeping!"

"Okay, okay," Alfred reassured him quickly, his hands held up defensively. "Sorry I did it. I just got pissed you slept during my conference and tried to wake you up..."

"So this is my fault, is it?" Arthur hissed at the taller male in front of him.

"Well...pretty much." Alfred shrugged carelessly, forgetting his purpose of not wanting the Brit's blood boiling because...reasons, he guessed. Staring at Arthur he noticed his hand still holding his head. "Does it hurt?" Arthur looked up, confused, and Alfred pointed at his head with a finger.

"Yes!" he snapped. "It does hurt."

The American man didn't know what to say or do. Was he expecting him to kiss it or something? If he did, then Alfred just might...

But then again, it might end with Alfred running away whilst a psycho British man chased him down like a criminal. Wouldn't that be a great newspaper title tomorrow? As Alfred continued gazing at the smaller man his thoughts trailed to the times when Arthur got pissed at him when he slept during his childhood lessons.

It felt like deja-vu-but in a superb, nostalgic way.

Around them there was no one insight, only the two standing close. Outside the lighting was like morning but shifting slowly to form shadows around while far away an elderly grandfather clock chimed discreetly, as though it wanted the atmosphere remaining its quietness and allow him and Arthur to speak. Subsiding the clock, Alfred heard the mutterings of Arthur's quiet voice mumbling himself.

Both of them didn't know what to say, but Arthur spoke up, "Um...what did you talk about?"

Alfred snapped out of it, "Uh, well, I was talking about how amazing I was to become eighth in the fatty charts."

"Was that all?" Arthur asked, sounding unimpressed.

Alfred nodded.

"Well, at least I know it wasn't important..." mumbled Arthur and taking a step back, he pushed his chair back without care and turned his back."I'll be leaving now."

"But...your head," Alfred pointed out, his voice concerned.

"Wanker," Arthur said as he walked off to the end, going to the door. "It'll take more than that to hurt me." His voice was prideful as usual and yet Alfred felt compelled to do something as a way of earning his forgiveness.

Out of nowhere Alfred raced over Arthur's side, earning a bewildered expression from Arthur, and they left the conference together. Walking down the red carpeted hall and avoiding eye contact, Alfred's throat contrasted tightly and heat was enclosing his body as their closeness grew closer than before.

"Hey, I'm not gonna put my nose in your business" Arthur scoffed hearing this but Alfred continued "but what were you dreaming about? Was it anything special?"

Oddly, Alfred caught Arthur looking down at his polished shoes, not wanting to talk further about that topic despite it being a simple question. How weird, he thought, Arthur usually told him what he dreams whenever he felt like it...which, actually, is not a lot, but still we had that close connection! It shows we can tell each other anything... So had Arthur dreamt a dream not worth explaining or...was he dreaming of him?

Impossible, he thought negatively. Arthur hated Alfred, or at least he tried to look like he hated him... Nonetheless, those two were like two peas in a pod at times. It was a special feeling they felt for each other, and Arthur seemed use getting closer to Alfred. Their fights, bickering, tears, they separated by their love.

"If you want," Alfred offered, "I can tell you my dream. I dreamt last night about hamburgers and coke and that cute magical unicorn. I still didn't give it a name cause I wanted it either McDonalds or Burger King-"

"I dreamt about you as a kid..."

Alfred's feet halted and Arthur's head was lower than before, almost as if he was ashamed for telling him his answer.

"It was in the past," he continued in a sadden tone. "I was healing your knee and...you said you loved me, and how I always made you smile and...I never wanted you to go. I loved you, too."

Past tense… 'I loved you' strung Alfred in a way unimaginable. Shock, confusion, fear, he felt those instead of being oblivious like a stupid idiot.

"Oh..." Alfred said.

"Yes, so," Arthur cleared his throat and stood upward like a gentlemen. "That's that. Ow!" Arthur's hand jerked to his head, hissing in pain.

"Arthur, are you okay?" Alfred cried with worry.

"Yes, yes, I am—what are you doing?" Arthur looked up in confusion and anger at Alfred, leaning his head over to look at his head.

Alfred's hands held the sides of Arthur's head cautiously and attentively as Arthur flustered with his head pushed carefully down for Alfred to freely search any injuries. Of course he had to do this; he was the hero of today! If Arthur was in pain then he needed his full attention no matter the Brit's pestering curses.

"Should I kiss it to make it feel better?" Alfred asked, wondering if it was such a good idea since Arthur wasn't use to public affection despite being the only people in the hallway.

"Whatever gave you the idea that I want you to kiss my head? It's not like it's going to get better that way! Unhand me now or else I will—"

"What? Send your fairies to attack me? Because we all know they like me and wouldn't mind what I'm doing right now if they were here." Alfred smiled happily to himself at the memory of the fairies and him playing when he was just a child. "If I remember correctly, you kiss my cuts when I injure myself—so what can't I repay the favor?"

"That was a long time ago, and—!" Arthur fell silent; the memories of the past always affected him. Especially since Alfred was the part of his life that made it glow but…he destroyed it.

Alfred wanted to do so much for him—apologizing, beg for forgiveness, tell him he was the best part of his life when he was so alone—but their separation made a seal which Alfred knew if he tore it, the agonizing past would shutter Arthur unbelievably and he just might fall into greater depression. Unbeknownst to Alfred, he was leaning his dried lips, later moisten with his tongue, and placed a soft, tender kiss on the lump Arthur insisted wasn't a massive deal.

Unexpectedly, Arthur didn't seem ready to attack him. Instead he was obedient and still. That should have had some good effect on Alfred performing a kind deed, but it worried him to wonder if his deed had shocked him. Quickly he pulled away and looked down at Arthur, who was hanging his head down, but slowly looked up to Alfred and teary eyes was the first thing Alfred saw in alarm.

"A-Arthur, I'm sorry—"

"It's fine…"

"No, you're crying…"

"Because it hurts," he said, "when I remember the past. I hate doing something so unprofessional but… I still love you." Hot streams gave off, streaming down his cheeks like raging rivers taking part in ruining himself and his emotions.

Alfred wiped those tears off with his both thumbs caressing his cheeks. He saw the way Arthur's eyes glittered when water made contact—but he only saw the beauty in his face and nothing else. Going in, he allowed himself to kiss Arthur's pinkish lips quivering at contact but became indulged later to form a proper kiss.

All around them suspended into nothing—it mattered none if people saw Alfred and Arthur kissing in the hallway together—and the feeling they felt was love. Love swirled around in their tongues, penetrating for years of holding back, but now they had the joyful bliss of touching each other and uniting themselves in a kiss. Alfred's heart ached in ecstasy, pulling the Brit closer and gained closer contact of his tiny body pressing on his.

All too soon, Arthur pulled away and needed oxygen. Alfred waited for Arthur to say something, and Arthur spoke.

"Uh…we should get going," Arthur said, sounding not himself.

"Oh…"

Alfred didn't let go of Arthur's waistline nor did Arthur pull away from Alfred's body.

"… Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you…for kissing my head," Arthur thanked sheepishly.

"No worries," Alfred said, grinning with his shiny teeth gleaming. "I'm the hero, of course, and heros are supposed to take care of the elderly."

Shit.

"Elderly, what are you talking about?" snapped Arthur, pushing Alfred out-of-the-way and stormed off. Alfred followed in chase nonetheless and grabbed his hand. "Unhand me, git!"

"Glad to see you're still you!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Alfred only hummed along, swinging their hands like little children. Arthur, on his account, was angered but didn't let go of his hand. The feeling together felt strong and powerful in their hearts—beating furiously at one's touch—and they leaded each other in the long, unclear path leading their brilliant future where they will fight their own battles and be there by their sides whenever one was in pain.

Arthur, who felt spiteful, didn't think Alfred would do something so genuine as kissing him in the head. It brought back the ancient dream of the past, but it showed in the light of happiness instead of misery.

And that was how they would lead their life—happiness.