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APH: Waltz

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Somehow Alfred was still uncomfortable. Despite all of the lessons he'd given the boy, Alfred still refused to make his feet cooperate – Arthur supposed it was the rapid growth of the younger nation that was making his knees knock together every few moments, make the toes of his polished shoes scuff the floor, make the look on his face so very focused and frustrated.

"I can't do it!" Alfred whined, and Arthur let him pull away for now, pinching the bridge of his nose with a migraine.

"Not with that attitude of yours, you can't," he said in irritation. Really, how could he be expected to learn when he kept giving up every few moments? That wasn't how Arthur was raising him, and he made that clear with a stern look that made the boy frown a little, looking cowed.

"Look, see here, you're getting your steps all wrong." He tried sounding more helpful than annoyed, though they'd been at this for a good hour or so; it was only two days until the ball back in England, and he had to get Alfred into shape before he let his superiors look over the smaller colony. "One… two… one, two, one, two, yes, like that."

Alfred frowned and moved closer again, resting his hand up on Arthur's shoulder firmly. "Well, if I'm learning to dance to go to this bloody thing in the first place, then why in the world am I learning the girl's part?"

It was a fair question, and Arthur paused to think about it. "I… suppose I wasn't thinking," he admitted; Alfred being shorter than himself, it just seemed more natural to assume the man's position. "But yes, you're right. Here, trade me places, America."

A bit awkwardly, Alfred shifted his feet before coming forward again. "Er… my hand goes…"

"Bloody hell, boy; look here, like this." Arthur reached and took Alfred's wrist in his hand, moved it so it rested flat against his hip. It was an odd position for it to be, but Alfred was a fast learner as usual and held it there with a firm grip –

Oh my. Yes, that was quite a firm hold he had, the buffalo-spinning strength really seeming to come in handy here. Arthur told himself that the little skip his heart made was simply because of surprise, and he cleared his throat, humming slightly as they turned for the dance.

It was really quite something, if he looked at it from an out-of-body experience and not from his own unsteady viewpoint. Heavens, the colony was moving smoothly now, in the correct position with his feet practically floating across the hardwood floor, one hand clasping Arthur's own, other on the little barely-there dip in his waist, and they spun slightly, causing him to go slightly dizzy.

Alfred's eyes were blue. Well, of course they were blue, but… they were very blue. Wide-open and endless as the sky, pale lashes fanning whenever he blinked, and there was a color to his cheeks that Arthur had never noticed before. He didn't like being this close, or maybe he did like it, head light when Alfred's voice started humming along with his own, some very familiar song the both of them knew, and – and God, but Alfred was so tall now, almost as tall as himself and that thought was making his throat close up slightly –

"Arthur…?"

It was fine. All fine.

"Practice."

It was all too perfect, too nice, too fairy-tale and majestic and all those wonderful magical things that seemed to be so rapidly vanishing from his life, but this… this was good. That all he could think at the moment was that this was good, and Alfred's eyes were softening, clear and open and no barriers and… moving closer, they were moving closer, and their chests touched slightly, those eyes looking into his own and suddenly Arthur was losing the tune of the song – how did it go, how it sound, badum badum badum, or maybe that was his heart, which was thundering loudly, deafening him almost, and he couldn't handle this anymore, and Alfred looked so innocent and so sweet and so… grown-up in his formal clothing…

And Arthur's hold on Alfred was tightening a bit as well, and he was leaning in, and for a split second – and that was all he allowed was a split second – their breath mingled, mouths so very close, too close, Alfred's hands trembling slightly –

Panic shot through him ('What are you doing, this is your boy! This is your colony, you bloody idiot, what are you doing?!') and he shoved Alfred away from him slightly, yanking back hard, breath a bit shaky and knees trembling and this was not happening, no, was just not going to happen, not now and not ever.

"A-Arthur?" Alfred's voice rang with surprise even when the softness of it was enough to make his heart twist. "What… what was…" He cleared his throat. "Did I do something wrong?"

"N… no…" Arthur had to force a sense of restraint into his tone. "No, lad, you… You didn't do anything wrong. I'm s…" He shook his head and brushed a hand through his hair and no, he couldn't be the one to take that from Alfred, couldn't be the one to do that, no matter how very tempting it was right now.

Alfred looked strange just then, eyes a bit downcast, and he just said, "Okay."

"I…"

There was silence and Arthur struggled for something to say.

"I, er, think you've gotten it." He shook his head in his own disbelief of himself and brushed something invisible from the front of his coat and left before he could be tempted to do anything else to scar the child.

('Bloody hell.')
Title: Waltz
Author: Me
Fandom: APH
Pairing: UKUS
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Summary: Young America learns to dance, and the British Empire learns something as well.
© 2010 - 2024 demented-inu
Comments16
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The story is so cute~! I knew there was another person in world that thought of a Waltz story~! I always thought that a story with Arthur and Alfred and a Waltz would make a good story~! Again~! Bravo my friend bravo~! Thank you for writing this~!