"Ah, I knew you'd find out, mon ami."
Alfred jumped in surprise at the sound of the French accented voice. "What the hell?!" Alfred practically yelled. "Not so loud, you stupeed American!" Francis, now somewhat transparent and more ghost-like than when Alfred had first met him, was floating on the side of Alfred's bed, a few feet off the ground, his legs crossed. Honestly, the sight would’ve been comical had it not been so unusual and frightening. After all, Francis did look like one of those meditating monk characters often shown in kid cartoons. "W-What the hell?" Alfred whispered, leaning away from the phantom, all blood draining from his face. Francis tsk'ed softly, smiling apologetically.
"You're too curious for your own good, Alfred. I'm sorry you had to find out zhis way." Although his mouth was agape, he found it impossible to say a word. How could he? This man was dead, a ghost, floating before his eyes, speaking.
"I am a ghost, oui. But I am here for a reason." Alfred raised an eyebrow, closing his mouth, although still speechless. His skin was also still pale in his fright. Francis began his explanation, anyway.
"I am to watch over Arthur, his mother's request. Eet is my unfinished business. Eet was her's, really, but I took eet on. I felt at fault for her death and Arthur's misery, so I took zhe job in order to grant her zhe eternal peace she deserves. Enfin. I now look after Arthur." Alfred processed the information, nodding slowly. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Alfred, and he flushed bright red.
"So you've seen us kissing?"
"Oui. I zhought eet was cute~." Alfred sighed and covered his face with hands, mostly to hide his blush. Francis laughed, although strangely. The sound of his laughter was something like, Ohonhonhonhon. Alfred sighed again and took his hands away from his face. "Does Arthur know?" Francis shook his head, smiling sadly. "Not at all. And I zhink he would be greatly angered to find out zhat eet ees I, not his mother, who looks after him." Alfred nodded in understanding.
They were awkwardly silent for a few moments, staring at each other. Finally, Alfred said, "If you'll excuse me, Ghost-y Francis, I gotta shower. Could you, like, not watch? For maybe a couple hours?" Francis rolled his eyes. "I am not stupeed. I do not watch Arthur at all hours! I watch him in between zhe ozher parts of my unfinished business. Which, I have just now remembered that I need to attend to. Take care, mon ami. I will visit sometime soon." Before Alfred could ask what his other unfinished business was, Francis disappeared, leaving the room silent and empty.
Alfred trudged out of his room soon after, past Arthur's room and into the bathroom, thinking all the while. While taking off his shirt and pants, he thought about how any of this could be possible. Francis had just appeared in his room; this was proof enough that Francis was either a ghost or Alfred was mentally unstable. He wasn't sure which it was. Stepping into the shower and turning on the water, he thought of more questions to ask Francis the next time he saw him.
How exactly did this ghost thing work? Why could he be tangible and completely visible one moment, and intangible and nearly invisible the next? What the hell was that other unfinished business he had? By the time Alfred stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, he had about a trillion questions to ask Francis, most of which he doubted he'd remember.
He walked back to his room and put on a pair of pants only, feeling it was too hot to put on a shirt. He threw the towel over his wet hair and shook his hair with the towel, disheveling it as well as drying it. Afterwards, without really considering his current appearance, he went into Arthur's room. Arthur was on his bed, a textbook in his lap, reading intently. As soon as he heard Alfred, he began to speak, not bothering to look up, at first.
"I see you're over your computer craziness. Now, could you tell me what the bloody he-?"
Arthur, having looked up at Alfred, froze mid sentence, his uncompleted sentence dangling on the edge of his lips. "What?" Alfred asked, truly puzzled, raising an eyebrow. Arthur put his hand over his mouth, leaning back and contorting his body into a strange position, like an upright criss-cross-apple-sauce position, except his knees seemed far more angular and protruding.
Arthur's face turned bright red, redder than a tomato, redder than a thousand burning suns going supernova, even. "You're, um. You're not. Where the bloody hell is your shirt, you twat?" Arthur mumbled angrily, lifting one of his pillows to his face, burying his burning cheeks into it, trying to get the heat he felt in his face to subside. Alfred looked down at his body and realized that he really had forgotten his shirt and was wearing only jeans and a towel on his head. Alfred smirked slightly, although his cheeks reddened slightly, as well.
He circled around Arthur's bed and sat down next to Arthur. He took the pillow away from Arthur's face, his smirk widening in delight at Arthur's still red cheeks. He cupped his boyfriend's chin and came close to his face, his breath fanning across Arthur's lips. Arthur shivered. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Alfred murmured, his cerulean eyes aglow with a feigned, innocent light. Arthur shrugged and made it seem as if he had been doing nothing, nothing at all when Alfred had come into the room. A sudden lust had possessed him, and now, he simply wanted one thing; Alfred. "Interrupting? Oh, you mean this silly homework? Who said you were interrupting anything? Who said I even wanted to do this rubbish?" Alfred traced a hand down along Arthur's thigh and grasped his hand softly, intertwining their fingers together. Alfred kissed across Arthur's cheek, towards his ear. He nibbled his ear lobe once there and whispered, "Oh really? But you seemed so interested in that work. I wouldn't want to screw up your good intentions."
Arthur bit his lip, attempting not to shiver at Alfred's husky voice. He was silent, thinking about what to do. Meanwhile, Alfred kissed from the base of his ear to the base of his neck, leaving a trail of burning, yet pleasurable sensitivity behind, causing Arthur's want for him to escalate more and more by the second. Alfred slowly raised his head and stared at Arthur piercingly, a smirk playing at his lips, yet not completely showing. "Should I go away and let you do your homework?" Arthur's answer had no hesitation to it.
"Damn that homework," Arthur mumbled, pulling Alfred's face towards him and kissing him roughly. Alfred smirked into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist, pulling him closer. Arthur slid his own hands down from Alfred’s chin, slowly snaking his arms around Alfred's neck.
After a few moments of kissing, Alfred began to push his hands up under Arthur's shirt, slowly, wondering if Arthur might tell him to stop. Arthur didn't tell him to stop at all; in fact, he even began unbuttoning his own shirt, having broken the kiss for a few moments to perform the action. He leaned against Alfred, undoing the first three buttons. He looked up at Alfred, smirking.
Alfred raised an eyebrow; the action was really a question that meant, "Do I keep going?"
Arthur nodded eagerly. "Please," he whispered, sighing softly and kissing the base of Alfred’s neck quickly. Alfred moved his hands out of Arthur's shirt and towards the buttons. He slowly unbuttoned the rest of the shirt, causing Arthur to whine in impatience. "Please, Alfred. Just hurry up. My God, you git! How long does it take to unbutton a shirt?" Alfred said nothing, simply keeping the smirk on his face, as well as the slow pace in the unbuttoning.
Finally, the shirt was completely unbuttoned, practically torn off, and banished to a corner of the room, not to be thought of until later. Alfred pushed Arthur onto his back and straddled him, placing both his hands on either side of Arthur's head. He leaned down and pressed his lips back onto Arthur's own. Their kisses were passionate, hurried, and desperate.
Arthur traced his index finger down Alfred's left side, down to the waistband of his jeans. Once there, he passed his finger along the edge of the pants. Alfred's breath hitched at the action and Arthur smirked. Between kisses, he whispered, "Found a weak spot, did I?" Alfred said nothing, although his cheeks turned bright red.
Arthur brought his other hand toward the edge of Alfred's jeans, down to the button and zipper that kept the jeans on Alfred's body. Arthur unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans quickly, lowering them slightly. To his surprise and--although he would never truly admit it--delight, Alfred wasn't actually wearing any underwear.
Alfred looked at Arthur, his smirk having widened. "You're horrible, Alfred. What if you'd gone out like this?" Arthur was frowning, but his blush and the amused light in his eyes showed that he really didn't mind that Alfred had gone commando. Alfred rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up. I can tell you like it." Arthur turned redder and ignored him. Alfred slid down slightly and started kissing along Arthur’s jaw line, then down his neck. Arthur’s hands came upward and wrapped around Alfred’s neck. He closed his eyes and moaned softly when Alfred’s sucked on a certain spot on his neck. Alfred continued kissing downward, across his chest, tracing circles along the skin of Arthur’s stomach.
As they progressed further, Arthur lowered Alfred’s jeans further, and then lowered his own. Soon, they were naked and Arthur was pressing him to continue. Even so, Alfred looked worriedly at him, his eyes darting around. “Are you sure you want to keep going? I don’t want to do anything if you don’t want to. I don’t want to hurt you.” Arthur smiled slightly and leaned forward, kissing Alfred’s cheek. “Keep going. Please. I just…I want you so badly right now, Alfred. I need you.” Those last words were enough for Alfred, and he continued.
What happened next, well, I'm sure it can be guessed. Let's just say that Alfred and Arthur’s love for each other was firmly cemented due to the act they committed that night. Neither of them regretted it, and were sure they never would.
A/N: OKAY TWO THINGS.
One: I know, I know. "THESIS. YOU FACE. WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST MAKE IT A COMPLETE SMUT? I WANNA SEE (OR AT LEAST HAVE YOU DESCRIBE) THEM SCREWING!" It's simple, really.
We kill the Batman.
Just kidding. The answer is pretty much this: Because I don't want to. Not just yet, anyway. I haven't even changed the rating yet, (which I will do if/when I write some smut in this)! Also, I haven't written smut for a long while, so I've gotten awkward at it. There will probably be smut later, although you shouldn't hold me to it, since I change my mind as often as I change socks (very often).
Two: Like, I'm seriously holy-shibing right now. ELEVEN LIKES?! FOURTEEN FAVORITES?! IS IT THE END OF THE WORLD?! WHAT APOCALYPSE HAS OCCURRED THAT PEOPLE LIKE THIS!? I swear I logged on and I look at the amount of likes and I'm just like, "Oh my Holy Cheesus Crust, people actually like this crazy Hetalia yaoi thing, a genre-thingy that I haven't ever really written for. Am I that good or something? Am I magical?" But seriously. I've just gotta say, THANK YOU SO, SO MUCH. ANYONE WHO READS THIS/LIKES IT/FAVORITES IT/WHATEVER'S IT: YOU ARE FREAKING AWESOME. AWESOMER THAN PRUSSIA. YOU ARE ALL MAGICAL AND FANTABULOUS
*coughs* Okay, so yeah. I honestly have no idea where I'm gonna take this from here. Honestly. Maybe certain people will get in trouble with certain others...? I don't know yet. So if I don't update for a while, don't get too mad. I SOWY.
SO YEAH. Love you all! Stay fantastic! PEACE, AMIGOS.