conjure_lass: (Hetalia: England Happy Dancing)
[personal profile] conjure_lass
Title: Name That Tune
Author/Artist: [ profile] conjure_lass
Character(s) or Pairing(s): UsxUk
Rating: PG for language
Warnings: Mindless fluff! Boy Bands! Ass Slapping! Slightly Cracky!
Summary: When Arthur's dreams of going to the Take That concert are dashed, his ever-present hero is there to make sure he gets to go.

It had started with an early morning phone call that had inevitably turned into an early morning row.

~“Arthur, you realize it’s,” ~ there was a rustling on the line, ~ “nearly three in the morning, right?” ~

In truth, he hadn’t. In truth, he’d been so disappointed after seeing the news that he’d been unable to accomplish even the simplest of tasks. In truth, he was currently in the bay window of his Canterbury home curled up in Alfred’s Hoyah’s jersey pouting like a small child. He was glad that no one could see it, though he didn’t know whether or not he would have cared if they did.

“Well, excuse me!” He snapped, glaring at the photo of Alfred on the opposite wall. “Weren’t you the one who told me that there was never a bad time to ring you?”

~ “I didn’t think you’d be calling me in the middle of the night, babe. You’re usually better about the time difference than this.” ~

Arthur cringed at the pet name but chose to ignore it. “Really? Then pardon my egregious lapse in manners! I didn’t want to talk to you anyway! It just happened to be the first number on my speed dial and--”

~ “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Turn it down a notch!” ~ Arthur could hear Alfred sitting up to take a sip of water from the cup he always had by the bed. ~ “Seriously, are you okay? Usually you wait until at least noon to rip me a new asshole.” ~

“If you’re not careful I’ll never do anything to your arsehole again!” He made strangling motions at the younger nation’s photo, grinning as he imagined Alfred’s face turning various shades of purple under his fingertips. When his fantasy was mollified he fell back with a sigh against the pile of argyle pillows. “And…no…I’m not all right.”

There was a quiet, almost gentle tone to America’s voice that warmed Arthur down to his toes. ~ “What happened? Did you get really drunk last night for Halloween? Did you run around naked again? Did France try to molest you again?! I will break his knees!” ~

Laughter bubbled up from Arthur’s chest, the thought of Alfred breaking France’s legs spreading a delighted blush across his nose. Nothing cheered him quite so much as imagining that man in agonizing pain. “I’ll have you know that I stayed home last night to get some paperwork finished.”

~ “Damn Iggy, did you soak your feet and get to bed by eight too? What's the problem?” ~

“Button up!” The pillows smelled of grass clippings from the last time he'd left the window open when he mowed the lawn. His voice came out tiny, despite his efforts not to sound pathetic. “Promise not to laugh.”

~ “I promise to muffle it so you can’t hear.” ~

Good enough, he supposed, though he’d probably regret what he was about to say. “I…I wanted to go see Take That next summer but…but they sold out in four hours!”

Silence. More silence. So much silence, in fact, that Arthur looked down at his cell to make certain they hadn’t lost their connection. Finally, when he put his finger against his other ear to hear more clearly, he could just barely make out the faint sounds of someone gasping for breath.

“Alfred Frederick Jones you promised!!!”

So that’s where it had started. It had ended, however, on the first balmy day of July. Arthur was standing in front of an open freezer door, lamenting his broken air conditioner, when a sharp rapping on the front door drew his attention. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he sighed and dragged himself to the entryway, wishing he were in the farthest regions of Siberia just to cool off.

“Hello?” he said, tugging the heavy wooden door open with a creak. “Can I…help you?”


Without warning he found himself trapped in a massive bear hug, Alfred having tackled him the moment the door was fully open. Arthur tried in vain to regain the use of his lungs in the crushing embrace, barely able to do more than listen to the sound of his bones cracking ominously under the pressure. He was going to die! His life was flashing before his eyes! Life’s…blood…slipping…away! Finally, just as he was on the verge of blacking out, the younger nation pulled back, pausing briefly to kiss the tip of Arthur’s nose affectionately.

“Hi hon!” Alfred practically chirped, closing the door behind him with a conspiratory smile. “Guess what today is?”

Arms aching and still gasping for air, Arthur took a moment to compose himself. “If you’re here to convince me to go to your birthday party I’ve already sent the RSVP, so you didn’t have to--”

“No, no!” Alfred reached into the back pocket of his slacks and pulled out two long pieces of paper, waving them around enthusiastically. When Arthur did not immediately respond (since there was no way to read a piece of paper being flung around at the speed of light) Alfred’s face fell, bottom lip coming out woefully. “Don’t you remember? You said you wanted to go!”

“Go where?!” Arthur’s hand shot out to grab Alfred’s wrist, pulling the papers up so that he could read them properly. Oh. Oh. Oh! No bloody way. He gaped up at the younger nation incredulously. “Waitaminute…are these…?”

“Yup!” Alfred brightened, raising his chin up proudly. “I have friends in high places! This wasn’t an easy favor though…you stodgy bastards like your boy bands.”

He might have squealed had it not been so undignified.

Arthur silenced any other idiotic things Alfred might have said with an excited kiss, tugging him close while resisting the urge to bounce up and down on his toes like a fourteen year old girl. He found himself purring at Alfred’s enthusiastic response, and for a moment nearly considered skipping the whole affair altogether in favor of staying home to ride the taller blond into the mattress. But…no. Alfred had gone through all the trouble to get the tickets after all…not to mention Arthur’s inner fan girl was practically salivating.

When he’d satisfied himself that America’s legs were sufficiently jellied, he pulled away from the kiss with a begrudging smile. “Oh, you are so getting shagged tonight you miserable git.”

So that was how the two of them had wound up in the standing section of the Take That concert, just close enough to the circular stage to have water sprayed all over them during the first half hour of the show. Alfred had been amazed at the size of Wembley Stadium, though he’d been even more amazed to see the 80,000 people that filed in to fill it. It had been particularly nice to have Alfred around when they were rudely pushing their way towards the stage through the endless sea of exuberant fan girls.

No one ever said Arthur had to be a gentleman all the time.

“Wow!” Alfred yelled over the clamor of the crowd, leaning close to Arthur as the group was carried to the main stage in a giant inflatable elephant. “I’m not one for this sort of thing, but that is awesome!”

It was at that moment that a very tall, very massive, very furry man moved in front of Arthur, effectively blocking his entire view of the main stage. His first instinct was to shove the damn man out of the way, but before he could reach up to do so he felt himself being deftly lifted in Alfred’s arms and up onto his shoulders. Teetering on the verge of tumbling to his death, he leaned forward to wrap his arms around the other blond’s neck, muttering an apology when he realized he was digging into Alfred’s windpipe hard enough to bruise.

“Damn it Alfred! I’m going to fall, you idiot!” he yelled, legs shaking violently in their effort to right themselves, arms flailing in wide circles. Alfred’s hands came up to steady him, holding onto his thighs tight enough that Arthur was able to relax a little, though the odd looks he was getting weren’t making him any less annoyed. The view was definitely better up here though…not that he’d admit it. “I didn’t need you to do this!”

“Stop bitching and enjoy the show!” Alfred reached back and slapped his arse, laughing so loudly that Arthur could hear him over the eight screaming girls in matching Take That t-shirts and neon hot pants next to them. Alfred pointed towards the stage. “Look! That guy is wearing more sequins on his outfit than the drag queen we saw the last time we were in Soho!”

Despite his humiliated blush, Arthur couldn’t help but snicker, reaching down when Alfred passed up the camera to snap a few pictures of the group in sparkly ringmaster costumes surrounded by columns of fire. Though it wasn’t nearly as good a picture as the one he took of Alfred smiling and singing along with Rule the World.

“I thought you didn’t like this group?” He leaned over Alfred’s head and gave him a quick upside down kiss, too drugged on excitement and happiness to give a shit whether or not anyone was looking. “And yet here you are, knowing all the lyrics?”

“Come on Iggy! This song is so cheesy I could have named that tune in two notes!” Despite his words, Alfred’s cheeks colored brightly and he glanced away with a choppy laugh.

Oh…he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“You already had all their albums, didn’t you?” Arthur raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.


1: The Hoyas are the Georgetown University football team. In my headcanon Alfred lives in Georgetown.

2: Take That's tour did indeed sell out in four hours to become (after MJ died) the fastest selling act in UK history. True Fax.

3: Yep...they really did dress in sequins, have an inflatable elephant and have 80,000 people just eating it up. We all know Arthur would be a total Take That fan.

Please forgive this jaunt into crackiness. I couldn't help myself.


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