Title: Eagle Wing at Dover
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters: Alfred, Arthur, Ludwig, Feliciano + Others
Pairing: Mainly AlfredxArthur + some minor LudwigxFeliciano
Warning: AU, Romance, Humor, Drama, War Story, and It's got kind of a deep concept. I tried to be as historically accurate as possible but some things I had to change for the sake of the story. I probably spent more time looking up things about WWII then writing >.<;
Summary: December 17, 1941, ten days after the attack on Pearl Harbor which officially brings the United States into the war. An American and an Englishman head out for duty. At first, they fight for their country, that much is for sure, but there are new things they will learn about war, romance, and the so called enemy that will change them completely.
Chapter Two: The White Cliffs of Dover
Alfred glanced over for a moment to take in more of Arthur's features. The other was about half a foot shorter than him and he had these huge eyebrows. They were actually kind of adorable, rather then unbecoming, but the Brit had this strange expression on his face that actually was unbecoming. “Hey Artie, what's with your face?” he asked innocently not really realizing what he had just said could be taken as extremely rude. Hey, it made sense to him. Arthur stopped walking and faced him blushing from anger. “Excuse me? And don't call me that!” Alfred looked a little confused. He leaned in close to Arthur's face and pointed a finger at it with a pout on his lips. “I said, what-is-with-your-face? It's all...gloomy or somthin'.” Enraged, Arthur swatted away the hand and took a step backward. “The bloody hell?! There is nothing wrong with my face!” Alfred winced. “Would you stop yelling?” he started, looking at him with skepticism and then continued walking. “I didn't say it was wrong, I just pointed out a reason you should change it.” Absolutely infuriated, Arthur stormed ahead of the American soldier and into the barracks where he was given a key. Who did that imbecile think he was, telling him that there was something wrong with his face? He would have just punched the young soldier in the face would it not go against his good conduct.
Alfred followed soon after, chuckling and amused by the other’s reaction. He watched the blonde storm down one of the halls, and then turned to get his key. “We're rooming together.” he said with the most adorable shiny white Hollywood worthy smile he could muster up. The young American took an identical key and happily followed suit down the same hall that Arthur went down. He went up two flights of surprisingly nicely carved mahogany spiral stairs before exiting at his floor. When he exited the staircase, directly to his left was a window that looked over the base and to his right was a long, dark-gray painted hallway adorned with a brown wooden door every so often. Each door had a gold colored metal letter nailed to the front. Room A was the room that he and Arthur would share. The first room, but the second door. The first door was a broom closet. Casually, he walked up and went to unlock the door, but it was opened before he could put the key in. Alfred stared into green eyes that seemed tame now. Arthur frowned. “What are you doing?” The American held up a key with a tag hanging down that read 'A', and smiled. Arthur's eye twitched violently but he moved aside. After all, the Marshall had said to room together, and he was too tired to argue. The room was kind of small for two fully grown men, but it would suffice. It's walls were a creme color and it had one window on the opposite wall from the door. To the right was the bunk bed and the door to the bathroom. To the left was a simple wooden desk with a chair, lamp, and radio. There was also a dresser. It was odd how decorated the room was seeing as they were at war with little money and barely sufficient rations, but Alfred wasn't going to complain. He set his things down by the bunk bed and giggled excitedly after claiming the top. He then earned a roll of the eyes from Arthur who took a seat on the bottom bed, figuring that he'd wait to walk to the mess hall with his new roommate.
The Brit watched as the American unpacked so many unnecessary things: A poster of Uncle Sam, an alarm clock shaped as a hamburger, a pillow with the American flag on it along with a matching fuzzy stars and stripes blanket, a pair of bunny slippers, a statue of liberty plush, and, lastly, a picture in a mickey mouse picture frame of him and Walt Disney. The alarm clock and picture went on the old dresser, Uncle Sam went up above the desk, the plush pillow and blanket went on the top bunk, and finally, the bunny slippers were left by the bed. “Dear god...” Arthur said under his breathe. He really didn't know what to think of it all except that maybe, just maybe, the room seemed...homey. Alfred scanned the room one last time making sure everything was in check and closed the door, running to catch up with Arthur while they made their way to the mess hall. The mess hall was as big as one of the airplane hangers and probably just as run down looking except for the wall to the very right, opposite from the food line. It was at least twenty feet high and covered in huge windows. You could see the entire base along with the rolling green hills and trees that were England. It was there that Alfred and Arthur met up with their newly formed team. Once they got their food and took their seats at a large table, they began to introduce themselves.
There was David, and American Jew with short curly black hair and pale skin. Everyone calls him the Hebrew Hammer because he came to fight for his strong Zionist beliefs and fellow Jews. Then there was Hugh, a Scotsman with light brown hair, light blue eyes, and an extremely heavy accent. He drank a lot, obviously, and had this strange brother complex type of attitude toward Arthur. Apparently the British half of the team had known each other before they joined. Anyways, the other soldiers call Hugh 'Scottie' for obvious reasons. Then there's Ryan, a nice American boy, who just joined the forces not too long ago. He came from North Carolina and his folks knew the Wright brothers personally. Everyone called him Kitty Hawk because not only was it his hometown, but he was innocent like a kitten and then when you put that boy in a plane, his personality turned into something akin to a hawk. He was no pilot though. Instead, he was the team's mechanic and could probably name every part of a plane down to each nut and bolt faster then he could tell you his own birth date. Fourth was Bradley. Bradley came from Bedford, which is about forty miles northwest of London and thirty miles west of Cambridge. He was a classic Englishman, uptight and impersonal, but one thing that wasn't introverted about him was that the man sang, all the time. He didn't have a nickname yet, so the Americans took it upon themselves to start calling him Sinatra, after the famous singer from New York.
The last of the Brits was Irish. He had red hair and loads freckles on pale skin. His name was Derval, which was the legendary name for Ireland. It was actually meant for girls, but his mother was so set on thinking that she would have a girl and name her Derval that when he was born, she named him that anyways. Upon hearing this story, Scottie, or Hugh, started to call him lassie, therefore it was official that his nickname would be lassie. Lastly, there were two American twins, Peter and John. They were identical, dirty blonde hair with light brown eyes and came from a farming family in the Midwest state of Missouri. They were each mischievous and experts at evasion when it came to dog fighting. There wasn't a single pilot in the academy who could catch them. For this, their nicknames were Flash and Lightning. As for the rest of the American crew that came along with Alfred, most were assigned simple posts and weren't actually pilots and therefore, were not part of the team. The table looked something like this: Hugh, David, Ryan, Peter, and John on one side, and on the other, Bradley, Derval, Alfred, and Arthur.
After an hour of eating and chatting Alfred spoke up, “A toast!” he lifted a cup with his right hand. Arthur turned to him with curiosity. The American captain looked straight into his eyes and said, “To England, for hosting fine strapping young men such as ourselves!” Everyone at the table laughed except for Arthur who frowned upon Alfred's huge ego. “Cheers!” and they all clanked cups, laughing merrily. Arthur, not wanting to be in too much of a sour mood, decided to follow suit. “A toast.” he said, then standing up and looking at Alfred. He held a glass elegantly in his left hand, pinky up. “To America for sending us such fearless Yankees for our front lines. Let's kick some bloody German arse!” at this, the entire cafeteria burst into cheers. Arthur smirked, full of pride. When he finally looked down at Alfred again, their eyes met immediately. Somehow, working together might not be as hard as Arthur had originally thought. After all, they both shared a common goal: Fight for the homeland and kick Axis power ass without mercy.
After the meal, soldiers filtered out and away to their rooms. It was dark out except for the street lights placed strategically around the base setting a dim glow. Alfred walked with Arthur.“The water is nearby right?” he asked looking at the other Captain. Arthur nodded yes. “Care to take a walk with me then? I'd be nice right before bed.” Arthur closed his eyes and gave a small sigh, “It's past curfew already and it's dark over there. It'll be dangerous.” The next thing he new, his arm was grabbed and he was being dragged past the barracks. “Don't worry about that!” Alfred said happily, “It'll be fine, it's just a little walk. Let's talk a bit."Before Arthur knew it, they were walking on the edge of the huge white cliffs. Alfred started, “So tell me about yourself Artie,” he beamed excitedly at the British captain. Despite the darkness, one could still see those incredibly white teeth. Deciding that it wasn't worth it to fight, Arthur caught up with the other and strode next to him in sync. “Well... my family has been serving in the military for more then twenty generations.” he said proudly. “So, I'm glad to be here. You?”
“Hmm, well, I was stationed in Pearl Harbor,” he started but was cut off. “I'm sorry.” Arthur said seriously. He felt bad for misjudging Alfred earlier, but what was he supposed to think? It had been dreadful in England when the war started, and then the Americans showed up with smiles on their faces while people were dying out there. Now Arthur realized that maybe they were just trying to be strong for those around them. If Alfred went through the attack on Pearl Harbor, surely he was aware of the damage this war was causing. Alfred smiled sincerely. “Don't look so down.” he said. “It was sad, and many of my friends didn't make it, but that's why I'm here. I'm going to fight for them. I'll fight for everyone. I'll be a hero. I'll save England. You wait and see.”
Normally, Arthur would say something about the outrageous declaration of becoming England's hero, but instead he found the comment endearing. “Hm, I'd like to see you try.” he said challenging the young soldier. For some reason he wasn't like his usual composed self around Alfred. He couldn't quite place it, but it gave him this sort of indescribable thrill. “Oh?” Alfred answered teasingly. He then took off his boots and socks and flung them to the side. “What are you doing?” Arthur asked a bit alarmed. Alfred merely smiled for the umpteenth time and rolled up his uniform pants. The cold grass tickled his skin. Searching for the lowest cliff, he found a tiny hidden shore below. Without saying a word, Alfred started climbing down the 10 foot mass of rock strategically. Arthur couldn't see him past the first five feet it was so dark. “Alfred?” he called out but nobody answered. Absolutely racked with worry now, Arthur quickly started climbing down too, calling out Alfred's name. He landed with a thud on the sand. “Al--!!” A hand came around his mouth, and there was the sound of a quiet giggle and the waves crashing lightly against the shore. Immediately, Arthur ripped away the hand, swiveling around to face his reckless roommate. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, what little light the moon gave reflected off the white of the rock, and he could make out Alfred's face just as his hand was grabbed and he was brought into the shallow waters...
After hours of talking about nonsensical things and arguing about cultural differences, the two captains finally made it back to their room, exhausted. Arthur wondered whether they had gotten closer, or if the conversation was useless. Alfred slipped out of the bathroom, steam from his shower creeping into the bedroom. He was in his bunny slippers, boxers, and a white muscle tank top with a small towel around his neck, hair dripping slightly. Even the water couldn't tame his one cowlick, and Arthur laughed inwardly at this fact. “You can go now.” the young American said happily, climbing up to his bed. A sweet smell of honeysuckle filled the air and Arthur sniffed at it quizzically. He suspiciously eyed Alfred who was dozing off already and walked into the bathroom where the aroma became stronger. Peeking out of the bathroom at his roommates sleeping form, Arthur smiled to himself. Honeysuckle, he had told Alfred earlier, was his favorite smell for a candle. The conversation wasn't worthless at all.
AN: Okay, so the second chapter is finally out. Haha! I'm so sorry for the long wait guys. I'm going to try and post more often. I just got really crazy busy and well, you know how it is. Anyways, thanks for the comments last time. This chapter was mostly a bunch of inspiration from songs and people and things that I've read all in one. I hope you like it! Until next time...