http://fivedayslater.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
fivedayslater.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hetalia2010-04-19 01:41 am
fivedayslater.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2010-04-19 01:41 am
Entry tags:
[Fics] Contest Crackship Entries
For your crackship pleasure.
Title: Of Spaniards and Mummies
Author/Artist: Me.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Spain/Egypt, England, Romano, OC!Wales
Rating: PG
Warnings: Romano's mouth, England being an obvious jerk.
Summary: Egypt wants his mummies back. He's not sure what Spain wants, but if he wants to stick around, Egypt's not going to make him go away.
He sighed before picking up his phone and dialing the number he knew so well by now.
“United Kingdom residence, England speaking,” the voice at the other end said.
“I want my mummies back.”
He heard the other nation choked on what he assumed (correctly) to be tea. “W-who may I ask is speaking?”
He knows he knows who it is, after all his are the only mummies in the other’s possession, but answers anyway, “Egypt. May I have my mummies back now?”
“This is a bit short notice Egypt,” he wonders when several hundred suddenly became short notice, but doesn’t say anything, “I-I can’t just give them to you right now you know…paper work needs to be filed for the transfer and all that…but I will get on it…as soon as I can…maybe…”
“I can come pick them up.”
“No no! That is completely unnecessary! You shouldn’t have to fly all the way up here for this…I’ll send them down to you…someday…”
“You’re not doing anything today. You can get on it,” he had checked with others and indeed his schedule was clear today.
“Actually America was planning on-”
“Visiting Canada.”
“So France was going to-”
“Hang out with Prussia."
“And Japan was thinking about-”
“Spending the weekend locked in his room, alone, catching up on his video games,” he made sure to check with them all beforehand; he had him this time, “So you’ll give me my mummies back, right?”
“Oh, I think I hear Sealand at the door. We’ll talk about this some other time okay? Bye!” With that he hung up. So close.
And so, Egypt started another routine day.
***
“Hola Egipto!” A far too cheerful voice for Egypt’s liking called out as he was leaving for his daily walk with Anubis. For some reason Spain had been showing up at his house everyday for the past few weeks with churros for no other reason than “It’s so warm at your house.” Of course it’s warm, he lived in the desert, but he never actually said this to him. Actually, he never said anything to him, which was fine, because he did enough talking for both of them. At first he was a bit irritated at the Spaniard for forcing his company on him, but after a while he didn’t really mind it. It was nice having someone else with you in the desert, even if that someone was rather annoying.
“Ah~ it’s sunny at your place again!” Spain said after jogging to catch up with him, “It must be nice to bask in the sun all day!”
It’s lovely until you realize you’re dehydrating.
“I found the strangest looking tomato the other day. I wanted to keep it to show you, but Romano punched me in the stomach for being an idiot. I wonder why he did that…”
Probably because you were being an idiot.
“France was over yesterday. We were reminiscing about the good old days…do you remember those times?”
You mean when I was controlled by England and pillaged by just about everyone?
“That’s right; you were controlled by England and pillaged by just about everyone…so I guess they would be the not-so-good days for you.”
Egypt stopped and blinked. This was the first time in all of Spain’s nonsensical rambling that he had actually taken his feelings into account. It was…strange. Not a bad kind of strange, just…strange.
Spain had stopped after a few steps and looked back when he realized his companion was missing. “Something wrong?”
Egypt shook his head and they continued their walk.
***
“You see, Russia and I have…to do…something. It’s very important. So I would love to take the time to send your mummies back, but I can’t today. Perhaps some other time…”
Damn, Russia. He wasn’t expecting him to use Russia as an excuse, so he hadn’t bothered checking. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Yes! Tomorrow! I will definitely get on it tomorrow for you!” They both knew he wouldn’t. “Cheerio!”
Egypt sighed before hanging up the phone.
***
He decided to go to the pyramids today, not to show them to Spain or anything, he just wanted to go to the pyramids, and if Spain followed, than he followed, and if not…well, it didn’t matter, because he just wanted to go to the pyramids.
“Wow they’re so big!” Spain exclaimed. “They’re the last ancient wonder still standing right? They’re really impressive!”
Other nations had complemented him on his pyramids before with almost the exact same lines, but Spain saying it was somehow…different. When Greece had said it, it was with a competitive manner. When England had said it, it was with a tone of possession. But when Spain said it, there was something in there he couldn’t place.
“Thanks for letting me come here Egypt. I’ve always wanted to see them!” There it was again. Maybe it was just the smile. His was much brighter than any of the others.
Egypt led him inside to explore the catacombs with him. He really shouldn’t have; he knew how idiotic he was and it was only a matter of time before he set off one of his mother’s traps.
“Wow, it’s even more amazing on the inside! How did your mother build all of this?”
Slaves*, but you don’t need to know that…isn’t that the spot where the floor collapses?
“Look out!” Egypt shouted, quickly grabbing the other nation’s wrist just as the floor gave out below him. Spain kicked useless in the air for a bit before grabbing on to Egypt’s other hand and was pulled to safety.
“Be careful.”
The Spaniard stared at him for a bit before smiling a ten thousand watt smile and saying, “Yes, of course!” as if almost plunging to your death was the greatest thing in the world.
Then Egypt realized that that was the first time he actually spoke to the other, so he blushed and turned around quickly to guide their way through the rest of the pyramid, making sure Spain stayed right behind him.
***
“You see, Ireland was, um, planning on coming down for a visit, so…”
“You’d rather play host to Ireland than give me my mummies?”
“Yes-no! No, not at all, it’s just that we’re brothers, and you know how it is…” Considering he’s an only child? No, not quite, but England knew that.
“How about tomorrow?”
“Yes, most certainly, I shall get on it tomorrow.” And he hung up.
***
He didn’t know why he was at Spain’s house. Yes it was weird that the endless chattering in his ear suddenly wasn’t there anymore, but still, that was no reason to travel across the Mediterranean. It was just a cold after all. His being there wasn’t going to change anything.
Besides, it was Romano who answered the door.
“Hm? Egypt? What do you want? That bastard’s sick today, you know.
I know that…what did I want anyway?
“Lo vi no…” Spain coughed as he appeared at the door as well, “Who…is it…?”
“Jackass! Get back to bed, it’s just Egypt!”
“Egypt?” Spain seemed to brighten up considerably at that. “Let him in…I wanna see him…”
“Antonio…” Romano grumbled, “Fine, but only if you go back to bed!”
“Thanks Lovi…” Spain grabbed Egypt’s hand and guided him through the house.
“Oh, you’ve finally come over and I can’t even give you the grand tour…we could have gone to Barcelona or Pamplona to see the bulls…maybe next time…”
“Romano…”
“Hm? Oh, si si,” Spain had been getting better at reading the meaning behind his few words, “Lovino is my little henchman, and I’m his beloved Boss, so he’s taking care of me! Isn’t that nice of him?”
Egypt didn’t respond; he didn’t have to, so Spain kept talking about everything he’d want to do with Egypt at his house once he got better.
After he got settled back in bed with Egypt sitting in a nearby chair, Spain looked him over and blushed, which was weird, because he was convinced the Spaniard was incapable of being embarrassed.
“Um, you know…you could call me Antonio, if you wanted…”
He was getting much better at reading him, and Egypt wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing yet, but it did make his stomach feel weird.
The only other nation he had felt close enough with to consider using human names was Greece, who as the eternal philosopher, didn’t care either way. It felt awkward though, so he just stuck to Greece.
“…Gupta.”
“Ah~ really? That’s a nice name…Gupta…I like it…”
“…Get some sleep.”
“Si…will you be here when I wake up, Gupta?”
“If you want me to…”
“Si si! I would like that very much…”
***
“Ah, you see, um, Spain was going to come over and-”
“No he’s not.”
“Of course he is! He’s on his way right now to talk about trade.”
“He’s here.”
“…W-what’s that Egypt? I’m going through a tunnel…you’re breaking up…”
“I called your house phone.” A pregnant pause for all of five seconds, and England hung up.
***
“Good morning Gupta!” Spain yawned when he emerged from his bedroom. He had stayed over late last night, so instead of letting the scatter-brained nation try to find his way home in the dark, Egypt decided to just let him stay here.
The Spaniard walked into the kitchen and started raiding his fridge and cupboards. “I’ll make us breakfast to thank you for letting me stay last night!”
“That’s fine,” Egypt hung up the phone and walked into the kitchen.
Spain enjoyed rambling when he cooked, which really shouldn’t be surprising, since he enjoyed rambling when he was doing just about anything, but it was warm and pleasant and nice to listen too, and Egypt found himself smiling slightly as the other went on about his tomato harvest.
“Who was that on the phone?” He asked when he handed Egypt some coffee and a plate of churros.
“England,” he bit into the sugary churro. It was delicious, just like everything else Spain made for him.
“Eh? Really? What did he want?” He sat across from him looking on with concern.
“Nothing,” Egypt took a sip of coffee before explaining, “I just want my mummies back.”
“I doubt he’ll ever give those back…”
“I know. I still try though, on the off chance he’s feeling generous or his hangover’s bad enough to not care.”
Spain chuckled at that before his face got somber. “He…destroyed my Armada…had his pirates attack me and claimed to know nothing about it…”
I know, I heard. “I’m sorry about that.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s just…I really hope you do get your mummies back someday…” He looked up, smile back on his face where it belonged. “But enough about that, what do you want to do today?”
***
“United Kingdom residence, this is Wales.”
Huh, that was weird. Sometimes one of the other UK siblings answered the phone instead of England, but it still didn’t stop it from being weird when it happened.
“Is England there?”
“He’s a bit busy at the moment. May I ask whose calling?”
‘Busy’ in this context usually means ‘hung-over,’ which is a shame, because that’s usually when England is the most cooperative.
“Egypt. Tell him I want my mummies back.”
“Will do.” Suddenly a crash was heard in the background, followed by some shouting. “Sorry, I’ve got to go…WOULD YOU PUT THAT SHEEP DOWN!?!” The line was disconnected shortly after that.
Today was going to be weird, Egypt just knew it.
***
Spain wasn’t waiting when Egypt left that morning, which actually was disappointing. He tried calling his house when he got back, but received no answer. He asked around to see if he was sick again, but no, everyone said he was fine, and no, no one had seen him.
At around midnight, there was knocking on his door. Annoyed that someone would disturb him at this hour, Egypt answered the door with the full intention on slamming it in whoever’s face, but stopped when he realized it was Spain. A battered and bruised Spain, but Spain nonetheless.
“Antonio…what happened?”
“H-hey Gupta…sorry I couldn’t…come by today…” he staggered forward causing the other to catch him and bring him inside.
After making sure Spain stayed put in the chair he put him in and grabbing some medical supplies, Egypt had to ask, “Who did this?”
“Hm? Oh, England…but it’s fine. I’m okay…”
You don’t look okay. “Why?” he asked as he stared bandaging up the hurt nation.
“I-it’s fine…I was breaking in to his museum, so he attacked me. He had every right to…”
“Why?” he asked as he tightened a bandage around a nasty looking shoulder wound.
“Well…I was breaking and entering…and stealing, I suppose…”
The bandage was tied a little too tight. You know what I mean.
Spain hissed. “Ah, well, I was trying to get some of your mummies back…”
What? That made no sense; they meant nothing to Spain, and out of all the nations, he knew what England was capable of when angry. Why?
“Sorry,” he went on, “I…know they mean a lot to you…but I couldn’t get them back…”
He was cut off when Egypt suddenly wrapped his arms around him, gently though, so as not to hurt him further.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I…I wanted to,” Spain absently traced random patterns on Egypt’s hands. “I like seeing you happy, Gupta. I…I love you,” he admitted softly, “and I don’t want to see you sad, not because of England.”
Oh, well, that made sense, he supposed. It would explain everything that’s been going on anyway.
He squeezed Spain a little tighter. “I love you too, Antonio, but don’t do anything stupid like this again. It’s not worth it.”
Spain grinned and leaned back against Egypt. “If you say so…”
***
“United Kingdom residence, England speaking.”
“Hola mi amigo!”
“Spain what do you want?”
“Nothing…so I was talking to Romano the other day-”
“Fascinating, why don’t you tell someone who actually cares?”
“-and he was telling me about how some of his mafia friends were thinking about traveling to England soon…”
“Pardon?”
“Yeah, they said they wanted to see the mummies and everything. Romano was about to tell them to go to France instead, but don’t worry, because I told them how much you love having tourists! Isn’t that great? And they listen to me, so I guess you’ll be having some guests coming! Isn’t that great?”
“…What do you want?”
“Hm? Why whatever do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m asking!”
“I want you to give Egypt back his mummies.”
“…No seriously, what do you want?”
“I am being serious.”
“That is a private matter between me and him! You have nothing to do with this!”
“They were actually going to call their friends and family in America too, you know, the mafia, and make it some kind of a family reunion. Now I’ve never been to a mafia family reunion, but I bet its loads of fun!”
“You…fine! I draw up the paperwork tomorrow.”
“Today.”
“…Fine, today. But why don’t you recommend France for Romano’s friends instead? I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”
“Oh si, very lovely. Talk to you later. Adios!” He hung up the phone and grinned.
“And that is how you negotiate with England.”
*Most Egyptologists now agree that the pyramids weren't built by slaves, but by tens of thousands of highly skilled, well paid, workers. At least that's what Wiki said.
Translations:
Hola - Hello
Egipto - Egypt
Si - yes
Mi amigo - my friend
Title: Of Masks and Midnight
Author: Me.
Characters/Pairings: America/Ukraine, a little bit of Prussia/Canada for funsies, England, Russia, Lithuania, mentions of Belarus
Rating/Warnings: PG. None really.
Summary: AU When Alfred and Matthew Kirkland do some badass party crashing, Alfred doesn't expect to fall in love, especially with the sister of his most hated rival.
Arthur Kirkland was the head of one of the most powerful companies in the world. No one messed with him or his business. Everyone knew this, and if they didn’t, they soon learned it. Some just took a bit longer to learn than others.
Like Ivan Braginski. Braginski was new to the game of business, a game that Arthur had mastered while he was still in diapers, but even Arthur had to admit the kid had talent. He was cold, ruthless, and ambitious, but that only served to help him in the long run.
Ivan was young, Ivan was new. Arthur, while being legendary in his own right, was getting older, more out of touch the longer he was on his pedestal. Most people assumed that soon Ivan would completely over take Arthur and toss him off that pedestal in a way so Arthur could only experience humiliation and crushing defeat. They should have known better, as Arthur never gives up without a fight, even if it isn’t him who’s doing the actually fighting.
Thus how the business world was introduced to Alfred Kirkland, the young, upstart, idealistic son of Arthur Kirkland. Arthur introduced him to the board under the guise of ‘showing him the ropes so that one day he can take over the family business,’ but most of them saw what was really going on; Alfred was the new poster boy, the perfect counter to the threat of Ivan.
Alfred was young and new, and therefore full of young and new ideas. Some of them were completely ridiculous (‘No Alfred, we can’t build a rocket ship out of hamburgers,’) but most were, well, genius. Combined with Arthur’s endless resources and initiative, the two made quite an unstoppable Father-Son team, one that Ivan could barely keep up with.
Barely being the key word there, as he did always manage to keep up, one way or another.
The Kirklands were known for the extravagant ways in which they celebrated even the most mundane events. The birthdays and achievements of various family members were to be expected, but when you throwing a huge ball simply because your other son’s pet polar bear finally acknowledged him, well, that’s pushing it. Not that the Kumajiro Costume Ball wasn’t a huge success both socially and financially and somehow became an annual thing.
Point being, Alfred and Matthew (the other Kirkland son) were used to extravagant parties to the point where they were almost a way of life. So when Ivan Braginski announced that he would be throwing a Masquerade Ball for his sister Natalia’s birthday, well, Alfred and Matthew were curious. The Kirklands were invited, of course, for publicity reasons, and Arthur ‘regretfully’ declined, but that was in no way going to stop the boys from showing up.
“Alfred, are you sure this is a good idea?” Matthew asked as his brother scaled the Braginskis’ outer wall, mask, tux and all. Matt was dressed similarly, but preferred to remain on the ground for the time being. “Dad’s going to kill us if he finds out we’re party crashing Ivan’s party.”
“Relax Mattie, it’ll be fine,” he pulled himself on top of the wall and found a study vine to lower to his brother. “Dad’s not going to find out, not if everything goes according to plan.”
“Very few of your plans ever actually go according to plan…”
“This one will.”
Matt shot him a glare as he joined him at the top of the wall, but Alfred ignored it as he jumped down, followed shortly by his brother’s plop by his side. They wandered across the grounds to the house and arrived at the servant’s entrance in the rear. Alfred knocked softly three times and the door was opened by Ivan’s assistant and Alfred’s childhood friend, Toris.
“Ivan’s planning a masks-off dance at midnight,” Toris explained as he let them in, “If either of takes your mask off, you’ll be instantly recognized.”
“So we should leave before midnight,” Matt explained to his brother. Toris nodded.
“That is, unless you want to drop this whole thing right now.”
“Psh, we’re already here,” Alfred proclaimed, “We’re doing this, and we’ll meet you back here before midnight.”
***
Bragniski’s manor was gorgeously decorated; even the two brothers had to admit that. The atmosphere was light and friendly and somehow reminiscent of Ivan’s Russian background. There were scores of people dancing in the main ballroom, but just as many were in other parts of the house mingling or eating or whatever. Matt and Alfred took it all in with an appraising eye.
“Well, look who we have here,” Matthew jumped and turned, afraid they were caught. A white-haired man with red eyes who was dressed in a black suit was leaning against a nearby wall, smirking at them while petting a yellow chick.
“E-excuse me?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around,” he said, “I’d remember a face that cute.”
Matt blushed. Alfred laughed, “He’s wearing a mask! How can you even tell?”
“I’m just awesome like that,” he shrugged.
“Where’s your mask? This is a masquerade ball after all,” Matt asked.
“If your face was this awesome, would you want to cover it up?” Suddenly he stopped petting the chick, which took its cue to jump up and settle on his head, and walked over. “Gilbert Wiellschmidt. I suppose you could say I’m a friend of the family, but you’d just be kidding yourself.”
“Nice to meet you Mr. Wiellschmidt,” Matthew tentatively shook his hand.
“Kesese,” he laughed, “You can just call me Gilbert, cutie. You know, I’ve just decided right now that you’re awesome enough to be seen with me. C’mon, let’s go.” Gilbert grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the crowd.
“But-wait-”
“Have fun!” Alfred called after him, not lifting a finger as his brother was dragged away by some stranger. Matthew glared at him before he disappeared into the crowd.
Alfred chuckled at his brother’s fate for a moment before realizing he was hungry. He set off on a mission to find out where Ivan stashed the food.
After getting turned around a few times (Ivan’s house was huge…it wasn’t his fault) Alfred somehow found himself upstairs and foodless. He wandered aimlessly through the hallway until he stopped outside one of the rooms. Someone was crying, and his hero senses wouldn’t let him leave without fixing the problem somehow.
Slowly he peeked into the room and saw a beautiful pale-blonde woman with short hair, large, um, ‘tracts of land,’ wearing an elegant, sky blue, sleeveless dress, matching mask, and silver heels, crying her eyes out by a sink. Well that wasn’t right.
Then he saw her reach out and grab a knife that was on the counter and raise it above her head as if she was going to-
“No don’t!” Alfred called out and bolted into the room before he could stop himself. She turned to look at him, the sobbing done with but tears still falling from her eyes.
“W-What are you talking about?” she tentatively asked.
“Well, just…that knife…I may not know what exactly is going on here, but that’s not the answer!”
“It’s my sister’s,” she explained, “and I was just cleaning it for her.” She giggled, “Unless you have something against that?”
“I…um…” well he certainly felt stupid, and he was certain he was blushing now, “you were crying…”
“Ah, well,” now it was her turn to blush as she wiped away any remaining tears from her eyes behind her mask, “…that really doesn’t have anything to do with this. I should probably ask you, what are you doing in the girls’ bathroom?”
“Huh?” Alfred poked his head outside the door and sure enough a sign had been placed there for the party, indicating that this particular bathroom was reserved for females for the night. “Ah, well…” he blushed harder if that was possible, “I was looking for some food, and I got a little lost I suppose…”
“I could show you where the food is…”
“Really? Nice! You’re a life saver-”
“But, in return, you can’t tell anyone you saw me crying, okay?”
“Anything! I’m so hungry right now I don’t even; besides heroes never squeal.”
“Oh, so you’re a hero now?”
“Of course I am! Why else would I intrude on such a beautiful lady that I thought was in trouble?”
It was her turn to blush again. “…I’m wearing a mask. How can you even tell?”
“Um…I’m just awesome like that?”
“Now you sound like Gilbert,” she giggled while putting down the knife and taking his hand. “Come on Mr. Hero, I can hear your stomach growling from here.”
She led Alfred down a series of hallways and doors he instantly forgot until she opened one door to reveal the buffet table.
“Sweet!” He wasted no time in snatching a plate and piling it with a little bit of everything. The woman joined him, although her portion was a bit less than his.
“I don’t think I’ve met you before, have I?” she asked after a while.
“…No, probably not. I’m a friend of Toris’s.”
“Well Mr. Friend of Toris, do you have a name?”
“Of course I do.”
“…Well what is it?”
“This is a masquerade ball is it not? It’s supposed to be mysterious. I don’t want to ruin the atmosphere with something as trivial as names.”
“I have to call you something though.”
“I suppose you do…you may call me Mr. Jones.”
“Mr. Jones then is it? If that’s the case then you can call me Ms. Alrovskaya.”
“Miss Alro…Alfro…Alrof…maybe I should just call you Miss A?”
She giggled again, he was starting to love that sound. “If you insist.”
They got to talking, the topic steering clear of what exactly they did, which Alfred was just fine with; it was too soon to be kicked out. Miss A had a little brother and a younger sister that she always worried about. He could relate to that of course, he had a little brother as well. Where was he anyway…?
“Hey,” he asked suddenly, “would like to dance?”
“I would love to.” She took his hand and led him through the house until they arrived at the dance floor.
Alfred wasn’t planning on dancing at this thing. His father had attempted to drill some sort of dancing etiquette into him when he was young so he wouldn’t be a complete embarrassment on the dance floor, but the lessons never really stuck with him. She quickly figured this out and gently took over the lead. He found that he didn’t really mind following her lead…she was a good dancer, graceful, kinda like a ballerina…
Suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder tightly. The song had ended and he hadn’t even realized, so Alfred slowly turned around to find a pair of bright, purple eyes hidden behind a mask. There was only one man he knew who had purple eyes like that.
“I see you’ve found someone to play with tonight, Katyusha,” Ivan smiled at her. She blushed and looked away, “but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before…” the grip on his shoulder tightened to a point that would have caused a weaker man to scream bloody murder. Alfred merely grimaced.
“He’s a friend of Toris’s Ivan,” Katyusha responded, “so there’s no need to-”
“Ah, well if he’s a friend of Toris’s, I wonder why he’s not with Toris, rather than here. Alone. With my sister.”
There went any hope of probably the most awesome girl he’d ever met not being linked to Braginski in anyway. Sometimes Alfred’s life really sucked.
“Toris is a little busy right now,” Alfred responded, “but I’m sure you understand. You’re his boss right?” In one swift motion, he turned around, forcing the hand to relinquish his shoulder, and gripped that hand in a firm shake. “The name’s Samuel Jones. It’s nice to finally meet you Mr. Braginski.”
Ivan wasn’t expecting that. Usually they were running scared by now. It really said something about this Jones kid’s character. And Ivan didn’t like it. There was something far too familiar about this guy.
“Jones was it? It’s nice to meet you too, but I must say, I feel like I’ve met you somewhere before.”
“I get that a lot, to tell you the truth. I must have one of those faces.”
“I can’t see your face,” Ivan reminded him, “but your eyes are rather familiar.”
Damnit. His father always told him Alfred’s eyes were too damn expressive.
“Blue is a common eye color Ivan,” Katyusha pointed out.
“I supposed,” he let the matter, and Alfred’s hand, drop, “but you seem a little too happy dancing here with my sister.” Not once did he blink or look away. Neither did Alfred, despite the whole eye-recognizing thing. He was just stubborn like that.
“Can you blame me? She’s probably the most gorgeous thing in the room, um, I mean…” Alfred blushed and waved his hands in front of him. How could he lose face like that in front of Ivan of all people? “I mean…she’s a very nice lady.”
“The nicest, I can account for that myself.” Ivan smiled and the temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees as he grabbed his shoulder again, this time actually causing the blonde man physical distress, not that he showed it. “I’d just hate it if anything happened to make her upset in the slightest.”
Pretty sure she’d like me in one piece thank you very much…
“Ah, Natalia!” Katyusha waved at someone over Ivan’s shoulder, “There you are!”
“Where?” Ivan let go of Alfred and looked around, panicking slightly. “I just got away from her and everything…ah, excuse me, Mr. Jones, Sister, I have something I need to take care of on the other side of the house now…” with that, he slunk away.
Katyusha quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him outside onto a large patio area, complete with its own rose garden and ten foot tall fountain churning out water. When they had gotten far enough away so that the music from instead was only a faint beat, she let go of his hand and sat down on the side of the fountain.
“Sorry about that, Ivan can be a bit…protective.” She looked down and started tracing pattering in the stone next to her.
“That’s alright. I’d probably do the same if I saw some creep all over my brother.” Speaking of, where was Matt at?
“I suppose, but now that you know my name, the whole mysterious aspect of the night is gone.”
“So?” Alfred sat down next to her, “I don’t care if you’re a Braginski,” and he really didn’t, “you’re still the most amazing…uh,” he coughed awkwardly and turned away blushing.
They sat in silence for a bit after that before Alfred just had to break.
“Why were you crying before?”
Katyusha turned to look at him, not expecting that, but the blue eyed man firmly remained facing away. “I-I’m not trying to pry,” he said quickly, blush creeping onto his face. “I just…want to know. Because I don’t want to see it again.”
She continued looking at him for a bit, eyes steadily growing gentler and more understanding. “Boys have a tendency to…like me, I suppose. Some of them are real jerks, but most of them are rather nice and I enjoy talking with them or dancing with them. Ivan is a bit…well, you know. It’s very hard to make friends, and sometimes it can get frustrating.”
Katyusha touched his cheek and turned his head so Alfred was staring into her eyes.
“Thank you for standing up to him. It really means a lot to me, even if that wasn’t your intention.”
Alfred smiled, “That’s what heroes do.”
“Would it be too much to ask to see the face of my hero? Just once, please?”
He hesitated, but at least she wasn’t asking for his name. He might be able to get away with this much.
“Close your eyes,” he asked, slowly removing her hand from his face. She grinned and complied.
Quickly and quietly, Alfred removed his mask and glasses. Nobody ever recognized Superman after all…
He brought Katyusha’s hand to his lips and gave her fingers a soft kiss before saying, “You can open them now.”
She did, and he waited for the slap to the face or the screaming about how a Kirkland dare try anything with her and the shouting for security.
Instead she lightly touched his cheek before wrapping her arms around his neck.
“You have beautiful eyes,” Katyusha Braginski commented before leaning forward and kissing Alfred Kirkland.
Alfred got over his initial shock quickly and moved his hands to her waist. Just as it was starting to get good, the clock started chiming.
“Ah,” he pulled away suddenly, “what time is it?”
“Midnight probably,” Katyusha said, annoyed and concerned at the same time, “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve…got to go.” He disentangled himself from her and stood up, grabbing his mask and shoving it on his face.
“Go? But wait! Will I ever see you again?” Tears started forming in her eyes and Alfred didn’t like that.
“Yes. Of course. Someday.” He swooped down and planted one final kiss on her cheek and whispering, “I’ll definitely see you again, no matter what” before he took off into the night.
Katyusha touched her cheek as he disappeared and wondered where he parked his pumpkin carriage. After wondering if he really meant what he said, she noticed the glasses he’d left behind on the fountain. She’d know those glasses anywhere; it’d be hard not to as often as her brother had shouted, cursed, and sometimes burned the face they were usually attached to.
Then she realized she’d fallen in love with Alfred Kirkland. Her brother wouldn't be too happy about that.
***
“Al what took you so long!?” Matt said as Alfred appeared in the kitchen. Toris was next to him by the back door with a worried look on his face. “Did you get lost looking for the bathroom or something? Before midnight means before midnight, not when the clock is striking it! And where are your glasses?”
“Huh? What?” Alfred’s mind was still by the fountain, along with his glasses, he just realized. “Um, must’ve dropped them somewhere.”
“Typical. Dad won’t be happy that he has to buy you new ones!”
“Oh he can afford it. Hey whatever happened to that guy?”
Matt blushed and looked away. “Wh-what guy?”
“Mr. Wiellschmidt slipped him his number,” Toris provided. Matthew shot him a death glare.
“Nice! So you gonna call him?”
“O-of course not! It’s not like I had a pleasant evening or anything…He’s friends with Braginski! Father would be furious if I got involved with anyone that close to him…”
“HAHA! Yeah the old man would probably explode with rage if you were making out with his sister or something…”
“…I never said anything about his sister.”
“Then why bring her up? It’s not like she’s the hottest, most awesome girl you’ve ever had the chance to meet or anything.”
“…Alfred where were you all night?”
“HAHA! You’re so funny sometimes. C’mon Matt, we should get going,” he waved goodbye to Toris and grabbed Matt’s arm to drag him through the back door, trying hard not to think about the maiden he left behind.
He said they’d meet again, and he’d make sure they would.
A/N: This isn't a rip-off of Romeo and Juliet or Cinderella...it's a rip-off of Romeo and Juliet and Cinderella thank you very much. And now I kinda wanna write a sequel...why do I keep doing that to myself?
Title: Of Spaniards and Mummies
Author/Artist: Me.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Spain/Egypt, England, Romano, OC!Wales
Rating: PG
Warnings: Romano's mouth, England being an obvious jerk.
Summary: Egypt wants his mummies back. He's not sure what Spain wants, but if he wants to stick around, Egypt's not going to make him go away.
He sighed before picking up his phone and dialing the number he knew so well by now.
“United Kingdom residence, England speaking,” the voice at the other end said.
“I want my mummies back.”
He heard the other nation choked on what he assumed (correctly) to be tea. “W-who may I ask is speaking?”
He knows he knows who it is, after all his are the only mummies in the other’s possession, but answers anyway, “Egypt. May I have my mummies back now?”
“This is a bit short notice Egypt,” he wonders when several hundred suddenly became short notice, but doesn’t say anything, “I-I can’t just give them to you right now you know…paper work needs to be filed for the transfer and all that…but I will get on it…as soon as I can…maybe…”
“I can come pick them up.”
“No no! That is completely unnecessary! You shouldn’t have to fly all the way up here for this…I’ll send them down to you…someday…”
“You’re not doing anything today. You can get on it,” he had checked with others and indeed his schedule was clear today.
“Actually America was planning on-”
“Visiting Canada.”
“So France was going to-”
“Hang out with Prussia."
“And Japan was thinking about-”
“Spending the weekend locked in his room, alone, catching up on his video games,” he made sure to check with them all beforehand; he had him this time, “So you’ll give me my mummies back, right?”
“Oh, I think I hear Sealand at the door. We’ll talk about this some other time okay? Bye!” With that he hung up. So close.
And so, Egypt started another routine day.
***
“Hola Egipto!” A far too cheerful voice for Egypt’s liking called out as he was leaving for his daily walk with Anubis. For some reason Spain had been showing up at his house everyday for the past few weeks with churros for no other reason than “It’s so warm at your house.” Of course it’s warm, he lived in the desert, but he never actually said this to him. Actually, he never said anything to him, which was fine, because he did enough talking for both of them. At first he was a bit irritated at the Spaniard for forcing his company on him, but after a while he didn’t really mind it. It was nice having someone else with you in the desert, even if that someone was rather annoying.
“Ah~ it’s sunny at your place again!” Spain said after jogging to catch up with him, “It must be nice to bask in the sun all day!”
It’s lovely until you realize you’re dehydrating.
“I found the strangest looking tomato the other day. I wanted to keep it to show you, but Romano punched me in the stomach for being an idiot. I wonder why he did that…”
Probably because you were being an idiot.
“France was over yesterday. We were reminiscing about the good old days…do you remember those times?”
You mean when I was controlled by England and pillaged by just about everyone?
“That’s right; you were controlled by England and pillaged by just about everyone…so I guess they would be the not-so-good days for you.”
Egypt stopped and blinked. This was the first time in all of Spain’s nonsensical rambling that he had actually taken his feelings into account. It was…strange. Not a bad kind of strange, just…strange.
Spain had stopped after a few steps and looked back when he realized his companion was missing. “Something wrong?”
Egypt shook his head and they continued their walk.
***
“You see, Russia and I have…to do…something. It’s very important. So I would love to take the time to send your mummies back, but I can’t today. Perhaps some other time…”
Damn, Russia. He wasn’t expecting him to use Russia as an excuse, so he hadn’t bothered checking. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Yes! Tomorrow! I will definitely get on it tomorrow for you!” They both knew he wouldn’t. “Cheerio!”
Egypt sighed before hanging up the phone.
***
He decided to go to the pyramids today, not to show them to Spain or anything, he just wanted to go to the pyramids, and if Spain followed, than he followed, and if not…well, it didn’t matter, because he just wanted to go to the pyramids.
“Wow they’re so big!” Spain exclaimed. “They’re the last ancient wonder still standing right? They’re really impressive!”
Other nations had complemented him on his pyramids before with almost the exact same lines, but Spain saying it was somehow…different. When Greece had said it, it was with a competitive manner. When England had said it, it was with a tone of possession. But when Spain said it, there was something in there he couldn’t place.
“Thanks for letting me come here Egypt. I’ve always wanted to see them!” There it was again. Maybe it was just the smile. His was much brighter than any of the others.
Egypt led him inside to explore the catacombs with him. He really shouldn’t have; he knew how idiotic he was and it was only a matter of time before he set off one of his mother’s traps.
“Wow, it’s even more amazing on the inside! How did your mother build all of this?”
Slaves*, but you don’t need to know that…isn’t that the spot where the floor collapses?
“Look out!” Egypt shouted, quickly grabbing the other nation’s wrist just as the floor gave out below him. Spain kicked useless in the air for a bit before grabbing on to Egypt’s other hand and was pulled to safety.
“Be careful.”
The Spaniard stared at him for a bit before smiling a ten thousand watt smile and saying, “Yes, of course!” as if almost plunging to your death was the greatest thing in the world.
Then Egypt realized that that was the first time he actually spoke to the other, so he blushed and turned around quickly to guide their way through the rest of the pyramid, making sure Spain stayed right behind him.
***
“You see, Ireland was, um, planning on coming down for a visit, so…”
“You’d rather play host to Ireland than give me my mummies?”
“Yes-no! No, not at all, it’s just that we’re brothers, and you know how it is…” Considering he’s an only child? No, not quite, but England knew that.
“How about tomorrow?”
“Yes, most certainly, I shall get on it tomorrow.” And he hung up.
***
He didn’t know why he was at Spain’s house. Yes it was weird that the endless chattering in his ear suddenly wasn’t there anymore, but still, that was no reason to travel across the Mediterranean. It was just a cold after all. His being there wasn’t going to change anything.
Besides, it was Romano who answered the door.
“Hm? Egypt? What do you want? That bastard’s sick today, you know.
I know that…what did I want anyway?
“Lo vi no…” Spain coughed as he appeared at the door as well, “Who…is it…?”
“Jackass! Get back to bed, it’s just Egypt!”
“Egypt?” Spain seemed to brighten up considerably at that. “Let him in…I wanna see him…”
“Antonio…” Romano grumbled, “Fine, but only if you go back to bed!”
“Thanks Lovi…” Spain grabbed Egypt’s hand and guided him through the house.
“Oh, you’ve finally come over and I can’t even give you the grand tour…we could have gone to Barcelona or Pamplona to see the bulls…maybe next time…”
“Romano…”
“Hm? Oh, si si,” Spain had been getting better at reading the meaning behind his few words, “Lovino is my little henchman, and I’m his beloved Boss, so he’s taking care of me! Isn’t that nice of him?”
Egypt didn’t respond; he didn’t have to, so Spain kept talking about everything he’d want to do with Egypt at his house once he got better.
After he got settled back in bed with Egypt sitting in a nearby chair, Spain looked him over and blushed, which was weird, because he was convinced the Spaniard was incapable of being embarrassed.
“Um, you know…you could call me Antonio, if you wanted…”
He was getting much better at reading him, and Egypt wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing yet, but it did make his stomach feel weird.
The only other nation he had felt close enough with to consider using human names was Greece, who as the eternal philosopher, didn’t care either way. It felt awkward though, so he just stuck to Greece.
“…Gupta.”
“Ah~ really? That’s a nice name…Gupta…I like it…”
“…Get some sleep.”
“Si…will you be here when I wake up, Gupta?”
“If you want me to…”
“Si si! I would like that very much…”
***
“Ah, you see, um, Spain was going to come over and-”
“No he’s not.”
“Of course he is! He’s on his way right now to talk about trade.”
“He’s here.”
“…W-what’s that Egypt? I’m going through a tunnel…you’re breaking up…”
“I called your house phone.” A pregnant pause for all of five seconds, and England hung up.
***
“Good morning Gupta!” Spain yawned when he emerged from his bedroom. He had stayed over late last night, so instead of letting the scatter-brained nation try to find his way home in the dark, Egypt decided to just let him stay here.
The Spaniard walked into the kitchen and started raiding his fridge and cupboards. “I’ll make us breakfast to thank you for letting me stay last night!”
“That’s fine,” Egypt hung up the phone and walked into the kitchen.
Spain enjoyed rambling when he cooked, which really shouldn’t be surprising, since he enjoyed rambling when he was doing just about anything, but it was warm and pleasant and nice to listen too, and Egypt found himself smiling slightly as the other went on about his tomato harvest.
“Who was that on the phone?” He asked when he handed Egypt some coffee and a plate of churros.
“England,” he bit into the sugary churro. It was delicious, just like everything else Spain made for him.
“Eh? Really? What did he want?” He sat across from him looking on with concern.
“Nothing,” Egypt took a sip of coffee before explaining, “I just want my mummies back.”
“I doubt he’ll ever give those back…”
“I know. I still try though, on the off chance he’s feeling generous or his hangover’s bad enough to not care.”
Spain chuckled at that before his face got somber. “He…destroyed my Armada…had his pirates attack me and claimed to know nothing about it…”
I know, I heard. “I’m sorry about that.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s just…I really hope you do get your mummies back someday…” He looked up, smile back on his face where it belonged. “But enough about that, what do you want to do today?”
***
“United Kingdom residence, this is Wales.”
Huh, that was weird. Sometimes one of the other UK siblings answered the phone instead of England, but it still didn’t stop it from being weird when it happened.
“Is England there?”
“He’s a bit busy at the moment. May I ask whose calling?”
‘Busy’ in this context usually means ‘hung-over,’ which is a shame, because that’s usually when England is the most cooperative.
“Egypt. Tell him I want my mummies back.”
“Will do.” Suddenly a crash was heard in the background, followed by some shouting. “Sorry, I’ve got to go…WOULD YOU PUT THAT SHEEP DOWN!?!” The line was disconnected shortly after that.
Today was going to be weird, Egypt just knew it.
***
Spain wasn’t waiting when Egypt left that morning, which actually was disappointing. He tried calling his house when he got back, but received no answer. He asked around to see if he was sick again, but no, everyone said he was fine, and no, no one had seen him.
At around midnight, there was knocking on his door. Annoyed that someone would disturb him at this hour, Egypt answered the door with the full intention on slamming it in whoever’s face, but stopped when he realized it was Spain. A battered and bruised Spain, but Spain nonetheless.
“Antonio…what happened?”
“H-hey Gupta…sorry I couldn’t…come by today…” he staggered forward causing the other to catch him and bring him inside.
After making sure Spain stayed put in the chair he put him in and grabbing some medical supplies, Egypt had to ask, “Who did this?”
“Hm? Oh, England…but it’s fine. I’m okay…”
You don’t look okay. “Why?” he asked as he stared bandaging up the hurt nation.
“I-it’s fine…I was breaking in to his museum, so he attacked me. He had every right to…”
“Why?” he asked as he tightened a bandage around a nasty looking shoulder wound.
“Well…I was breaking and entering…and stealing, I suppose…”
The bandage was tied a little too tight. You know what I mean.
Spain hissed. “Ah, well, I was trying to get some of your mummies back…”
What? That made no sense; they meant nothing to Spain, and out of all the nations, he knew what England was capable of when angry. Why?
“Sorry,” he went on, “I…know they mean a lot to you…but I couldn’t get them back…”
He was cut off when Egypt suddenly wrapped his arms around him, gently though, so as not to hurt him further.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I…I wanted to,” Spain absently traced random patterns on Egypt’s hands. “I like seeing you happy, Gupta. I…I love you,” he admitted softly, “and I don’t want to see you sad, not because of England.”
Oh, well, that made sense, he supposed. It would explain everything that’s been going on anyway.
He squeezed Spain a little tighter. “I love you too, Antonio, but don’t do anything stupid like this again. It’s not worth it.”
Spain grinned and leaned back against Egypt. “If you say so…”
***
“United Kingdom residence, England speaking.”
“Hola mi amigo!”
“Spain what do you want?”
“Nothing…so I was talking to Romano the other day-”
“Fascinating, why don’t you tell someone who actually cares?”
“-and he was telling me about how some of his mafia friends were thinking about traveling to England soon…”
“Pardon?”
“Yeah, they said they wanted to see the mummies and everything. Romano was about to tell them to go to France instead, but don’t worry, because I told them how much you love having tourists! Isn’t that great? And they listen to me, so I guess you’ll be having some guests coming! Isn’t that great?”
“…What do you want?”
“Hm? Why whatever do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m asking!”
“I want you to give Egypt back his mummies.”
“…No seriously, what do you want?”
“I am being serious.”
“That is a private matter between me and him! You have nothing to do with this!”
“They were actually going to call their friends and family in America too, you know, the mafia, and make it some kind of a family reunion. Now I’ve never been to a mafia family reunion, but I bet its loads of fun!”
“You…fine! I draw up the paperwork tomorrow.”
“Today.”
“…Fine, today. But why don’t you recommend France for Romano’s friends instead? I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”
“Oh si, very lovely. Talk to you later. Adios!” He hung up the phone and grinned.
“And that is how you negotiate with England.”
*Most Egyptologists now agree that the pyramids weren't built by slaves, but by tens of thousands of highly skilled, well paid, workers. At least that's what Wiki said.
Translations:
Hola - Hello
Egipto - Egypt
Si - yes
Mi amigo - my friend
Title: Of Masks and Midnight
Author: Me.
Characters/Pairings: America/Ukraine, a little bit of Prussia/Canada for funsies, England, Russia, Lithuania, mentions of Belarus
Rating/Warnings: PG. None really.
Summary: AU When Alfred and Matthew Kirkland do some badass party crashing, Alfred doesn't expect to fall in love, especially with the sister of his most hated rival.
Arthur Kirkland was the head of one of the most powerful companies in the world. No one messed with him or his business. Everyone knew this, and if they didn’t, they soon learned it. Some just took a bit longer to learn than others.
Like Ivan Braginski. Braginski was new to the game of business, a game that Arthur had mastered while he was still in diapers, but even Arthur had to admit the kid had talent. He was cold, ruthless, and ambitious, but that only served to help him in the long run.
Ivan was young, Ivan was new. Arthur, while being legendary in his own right, was getting older, more out of touch the longer he was on his pedestal. Most people assumed that soon Ivan would completely over take Arthur and toss him off that pedestal in a way so Arthur could only experience humiliation and crushing defeat. They should have known better, as Arthur never gives up without a fight, even if it isn’t him who’s doing the actually fighting.
Thus how the business world was introduced to Alfred Kirkland, the young, upstart, idealistic son of Arthur Kirkland. Arthur introduced him to the board under the guise of ‘showing him the ropes so that one day he can take over the family business,’ but most of them saw what was really going on; Alfred was the new poster boy, the perfect counter to the threat of Ivan.
Alfred was young and new, and therefore full of young and new ideas. Some of them were completely ridiculous (‘No Alfred, we can’t build a rocket ship out of hamburgers,’) but most were, well, genius. Combined with Arthur’s endless resources and initiative, the two made quite an unstoppable Father-Son team, one that Ivan could barely keep up with.
Barely being the key word there, as he did always manage to keep up, one way or another.
The Kirklands were known for the extravagant ways in which they celebrated even the most mundane events. The birthdays and achievements of various family members were to be expected, but when you throwing a huge ball simply because your other son’s pet polar bear finally acknowledged him, well, that’s pushing it. Not that the Kumajiro Costume Ball wasn’t a huge success both socially and financially and somehow became an annual thing.
Point being, Alfred and Matthew (the other Kirkland son) were used to extravagant parties to the point where they were almost a way of life. So when Ivan Braginski announced that he would be throwing a Masquerade Ball for his sister Natalia’s birthday, well, Alfred and Matthew were curious. The Kirklands were invited, of course, for publicity reasons, and Arthur ‘regretfully’ declined, but that was in no way going to stop the boys from showing up.
“Alfred, are you sure this is a good idea?” Matthew asked as his brother scaled the Braginskis’ outer wall, mask, tux and all. Matt was dressed similarly, but preferred to remain on the ground for the time being. “Dad’s going to kill us if he finds out we’re party crashing Ivan’s party.”
“Relax Mattie, it’ll be fine,” he pulled himself on top of the wall and found a study vine to lower to his brother. “Dad’s not going to find out, not if everything goes according to plan.”
“Very few of your plans ever actually go according to plan…”
“This one will.”
Matt shot him a glare as he joined him at the top of the wall, but Alfred ignored it as he jumped down, followed shortly by his brother’s plop by his side. They wandered across the grounds to the house and arrived at the servant’s entrance in the rear. Alfred knocked softly three times and the door was opened by Ivan’s assistant and Alfred’s childhood friend, Toris.
“Ivan’s planning a masks-off dance at midnight,” Toris explained as he let them in, “If either of takes your mask off, you’ll be instantly recognized.”
“So we should leave before midnight,” Matt explained to his brother. Toris nodded.
“That is, unless you want to drop this whole thing right now.”
“Psh, we’re already here,” Alfred proclaimed, “We’re doing this, and we’ll meet you back here before midnight.”
***
Bragniski’s manor was gorgeously decorated; even the two brothers had to admit that. The atmosphere was light and friendly and somehow reminiscent of Ivan’s Russian background. There were scores of people dancing in the main ballroom, but just as many were in other parts of the house mingling or eating or whatever. Matt and Alfred took it all in with an appraising eye.
“Well, look who we have here,” Matthew jumped and turned, afraid they were caught. A white-haired man with red eyes who was dressed in a black suit was leaning against a nearby wall, smirking at them while petting a yellow chick.
“E-excuse me?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around,” he said, “I’d remember a face that cute.”
Matt blushed. Alfred laughed, “He’s wearing a mask! How can you even tell?”
“I’m just awesome like that,” he shrugged.
“Where’s your mask? This is a masquerade ball after all,” Matt asked.
“If your face was this awesome, would you want to cover it up?” Suddenly he stopped petting the chick, which took its cue to jump up and settle on his head, and walked over. “Gilbert Wiellschmidt. I suppose you could say I’m a friend of the family, but you’d just be kidding yourself.”
“Nice to meet you Mr. Wiellschmidt,” Matthew tentatively shook his hand.
“Kesese,” he laughed, “You can just call me Gilbert, cutie. You know, I’ve just decided right now that you’re awesome enough to be seen with me. C’mon, let’s go.” Gilbert grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the crowd.
“But-wait-”
“Have fun!” Alfred called after him, not lifting a finger as his brother was dragged away by some stranger. Matthew glared at him before he disappeared into the crowd.
Alfred chuckled at his brother’s fate for a moment before realizing he was hungry. He set off on a mission to find out where Ivan stashed the food.
After getting turned around a few times (Ivan’s house was huge…it wasn’t his fault) Alfred somehow found himself upstairs and foodless. He wandered aimlessly through the hallway until he stopped outside one of the rooms. Someone was crying, and his hero senses wouldn’t let him leave without fixing the problem somehow.
Slowly he peeked into the room and saw a beautiful pale-blonde woman with short hair, large, um, ‘tracts of land,’ wearing an elegant, sky blue, sleeveless dress, matching mask, and silver heels, crying her eyes out by a sink. Well that wasn’t right.
Then he saw her reach out and grab a knife that was on the counter and raise it above her head as if she was going to-
“No don’t!” Alfred called out and bolted into the room before he could stop himself. She turned to look at him, the sobbing done with but tears still falling from her eyes.
“W-What are you talking about?” she tentatively asked.
“Well, just…that knife…I may not know what exactly is going on here, but that’s not the answer!”
“It’s my sister’s,” she explained, “and I was just cleaning it for her.” She giggled, “Unless you have something against that?”
“I…um…” well he certainly felt stupid, and he was certain he was blushing now, “you were crying…”
“Ah, well,” now it was her turn to blush as she wiped away any remaining tears from her eyes behind her mask, “…that really doesn’t have anything to do with this. I should probably ask you, what are you doing in the girls’ bathroom?”
“Huh?” Alfred poked his head outside the door and sure enough a sign had been placed there for the party, indicating that this particular bathroom was reserved for females for the night. “Ah, well…” he blushed harder if that was possible, “I was looking for some food, and I got a little lost I suppose…”
“I could show you where the food is…”
“Really? Nice! You’re a life saver-”
“But, in return, you can’t tell anyone you saw me crying, okay?”
“Anything! I’m so hungry right now I don’t even; besides heroes never squeal.”
“Oh, so you’re a hero now?”
“Of course I am! Why else would I intrude on such a beautiful lady that I thought was in trouble?”
It was her turn to blush again. “…I’m wearing a mask. How can you even tell?”
“Um…I’m just awesome like that?”
“Now you sound like Gilbert,” she giggled while putting down the knife and taking his hand. “Come on Mr. Hero, I can hear your stomach growling from here.”
She led Alfred down a series of hallways and doors he instantly forgot until she opened one door to reveal the buffet table.
“Sweet!” He wasted no time in snatching a plate and piling it with a little bit of everything. The woman joined him, although her portion was a bit less than his.
“I don’t think I’ve met you before, have I?” she asked after a while.
“…No, probably not. I’m a friend of Toris’s.”
“Well Mr. Friend of Toris, do you have a name?”
“Of course I do.”
“…Well what is it?”
“This is a masquerade ball is it not? It’s supposed to be mysterious. I don’t want to ruin the atmosphere with something as trivial as names.”
“I have to call you something though.”
“I suppose you do…you may call me Mr. Jones.”
“Mr. Jones then is it? If that’s the case then you can call me Ms. Alrovskaya.”
“Miss Alro…Alfro…Alrof…maybe I should just call you Miss A?”
She giggled again, he was starting to love that sound. “If you insist.”
They got to talking, the topic steering clear of what exactly they did, which Alfred was just fine with; it was too soon to be kicked out. Miss A had a little brother and a younger sister that she always worried about. He could relate to that of course, he had a little brother as well. Where was he anyway…?
“Hey,” he asked suddenly, “would like to dance?”
“I would love to.” She took his hand and led him through the house until they arrived at the dance floor.
Alfred wasn’t planning on dancing at this thing. His father had attempted to drill some sort of dancing etiquette into him when he was young so he wouldn’t be a complete embarrassment on the dance floor, but the lessons never really stuck with him. She quickly figured this out and gently took over the lead. He found that he didn’t really mind following her lead…she was a good dancer, graceful, kinda like a ballerina…
Suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder tightly. The song had ended and he hadn’t even realized, so Alfred slowly turned around to find a pair of bright, purple eyes hidden behind a mask. There was only one man he knew who had purple eyes like that.
“I see you’ve found someone to play with tonight, Katyusha,” Ivan smiled at her. She blushed and looked away, “but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before…” the grip on his shoulder tightened to a point that would have caused a weaker man to scream bloody murder. Alfred merely grimaced.
“He’s a friend of Toris’s Ivan,” Katyusha responded, “so there’s no need to-”
“Ah, well if he’s a friend of Toris’s, I wonder why he’s not with Toris, rather than here. Alone. With my sister.”
There went any hope of probably the most awesome girl he’d ever met not being linked to Braginski in anyway. Sometimes Alfred’s life really sucked.
“Toris is a little busy right now,” Alfred responded, “but I’m sure you understand. You’re his boss right?” In one swift motion, he turned around, forcing the hand to relinquish his shoulder, and gripped that hand in a firm shake. “The name’s Samuel Jones. It’s nice to finally meet you Mr. Braginski.”
Ivan wasn’t expecting that. Usually they were running scared by now. It really said something about this Jones kid’s character. And Ivan didn’t like it. There was something far too familiar about this guy.
“Jones was it? It’s nice to meet you too, but I must say, I feel like I’ve met you somewhere before.”
“I get that a lot, to tell you the truth. I must have one of those faces.”
“I can’t see your face,” Ivan reminded him, “but your eyes are rather familiar.”
Damnit. His father always told him Alfred’s eyes were too damn expressive.
“Blue is a common eye color Ivan,” Katyusha pointed out.
“I supposed,” he let the matter, and Alfred’s hand, drop, “but you seem a little too happy dancing here with my sister.” Not once did he blink or look away. Neither did Alfred, despite the whole eye-recognizing thing. He was just stubborn like that.
“Can you blame me? She’s probably the most gorgeous thing in the room, um, I mean…” Alfred blushed and waved his hands in front of him. How could he lose face like that in front of Ivan of all people? “I mean…she’s a very nice lady.”
“The nicest, I can account for that myself.” Ivan smiled and the temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees as he grabbed his shoulder again, this time actually causing the blonde man physical distress, not that he showed it. “I’d just hate it if anything happened to make her upset in the slightest.”
Pretty sure she’d like me in one piece thank you very much…
“Ah, Natalia!” Katyusha waved at someone over Ivan’s shoulder, “There you are!”
“Where?” Ivan let go of Alfred and looked around, panicking slightly. “I just got away from her and everything…ah, excuse me, Mr. Jones, Sister, I have something I need to take care of on the other side of the house now…” with that, he slunk away.
Katyusha quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him outside onto a large patio area, complete with its own rose garden and ten foot tall fountain churning out water. When they had gotten far enough away so that the music from instead was only a faint beat, she let go of his hand and sat down on the side of the fountain.
“Sorry about that, Ivan can be a bit…protective.” She looked down and started tracing pattering in the stone next to her.
“That’s alright. I’d probably do the same if I saw some creep all over my brother.” Speaking of, where was Matt at?
“I suppose, but now that you know my name, the whole mysterious aspect of the night is gone.”
“So?” Alfred sat down next to her, “I don’t care if you’re a Braginski,” and he really didn’t, “you’re still the most amazing…uh,” he coughed awkwardly and turned away blushing.
They sat in silence for a bit after that before Alfred just had to break.
“Why were you crying before?”
Katyusha turned to look at him, not expecting that, but the blue eyed man firmly remained facing away. “I-I’m not trying to pry,” he said quickly, blush creeping onto his face. “I just…want to know. Because I don’t want to see it again.”
She continued looking at him for a bit, eyes steadily growing gentler and more understanding. “Boys have a tendency to…like me, I suppose. Some of them are real jerks, but most of them are rather nice and I enjoy talking with them or dancing with them. Ivan is a bit…well, you know. It’s very hard to make friends, and sometimes it can get frustrating.”
Katyusha touched his cheek and turned his head so Alfred was staring into her eyes.
“Thank you for standing up to him. It really means a lot to me, even if that wasn’t your intention.”
Alfred smiled, “That’s what heroes do.”
“Would it be too much to ask to see the face of my hero? Just once, please?”
He hesitated, but at least she wasn’t asking for his name. He might be able to get away with this much.
“Close your eyes,” he asked, slowly removing her hand from his face. She grinned and complied.
Quickly and quietly, Alfred removed his mask and glasses. Nobody ever recognized Superman after all…
He brought Katyusha’s hand to his lips and gave her fingers a soft kiss before saying, “You can open them now.”
She did, and he waited for the slap to the face or the screaming about how a Kirkland dare try anything with her and the shouting for security.
Instead she lightly touched his cheek before wrapping her arms around his neck.
“You have beautiful eyes,” Katyusha Braginski commented before leaning forward and kissing Alfred Kirkland.
Alfred got over his initial shock quickly and moved his hands to her waist. Just as it was starting to get good, the clock started chiming.
“Ah,” he pulled away suddenly, “what time is it?”
“Midnight probably,” Katyusha said, annoyed and concerned at the same time, “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve…got to go.” He disentangled himself from her and stood up, grabbing his mask and shoving it on his face.
“Go? But wait! Will I ever see you again?” Tears started forming in her eyes and Alfred didn’t like that.
“Yes. Of course. Someday.” He swooped down and planted one final kiss on her cheek and whispering, “I’ll definitely see you again, no matter what” before he took off into the night.
Katyusha touched her cheek as he disappeared and wondered where he parked his pumpkin carriage. After wondering if he really meant what he said, she noticed the glasses he’d left behind on the fountain. She’d know those glasses anywhere; it’d be hard not to as often as her brother had shouted, cursed, and sometimes burned the face they were usually attached to.
Then she realized she’d fallen in love with Alfred Kirkland. Her brother wouldn't be too happy about that.
***
“Al what took you so long!?” Matt said as Alfred appeared in the kitchen. Toris was next to him by the back door with a worried look on his face. “Did you get lost looking for the bathroom or something? Before midnight means before midnight, not when the clock is striking it! And where are your glasses?”
“Huh? What?” Alfred’s mind was still by the fountain, along with his glasses, he just realized. “Um, must’ve dropped them somewhere.”
“Typical. Dad won’t be happy that he has to buy you new ones!”
“Oh he can afford it. Hey whatever happened to that guy?”
Matt blushed and looked away. “Wh-what guy?”
“Mr. Wiellschmidt slipped him his number,” Toris provided. Matthew shot him a death glare.
“Nice! So you gonna call him?”
“O-of course not! It’s not like I had a pleasant evening or anything…He’s friends with Braginski! Father would be furious if I got involved with anyone that close to him…”
“HAHA! Yeah the old man would probably explode with rage if you were making out with his sister or something…”
“…I never said anything about his sister.”
“Then why bring her up? It’s not like she’s the hottest, most awesome girl you’ve ever had the chance to meet or anything.”
“…Alfred where were you all night?”
“HAHA! You’re so funny sometimes. C’mon Matt, we should get going,” he waved goodbye to Toris and grabbed Matt’s arm to drag him through the back door, trying hard not to think about the maiden he left behind.
He said they’d meet again, and he’d make sure they would.
A/N: This isn't a rip-off of Romeo and Juliet or Cinderella...it's a rip-off of Romeo and Juliet and Cinderella thank you very much. And now I kinda wanna write a sequel...why do I keep doing that to myself?