"Arthur, where did I put my glasses?"

"Did you check your face, luv?"

"Oh hush, The hero would notice that! I'm just gonna grab some more ice cream from the fridge and-... I found them."

((I'm sorry that was lame. >A< Anyways, here's the new word ))

Time

It was only regarding the past where time held any meaning to him. But that too was nothing but a fading echo.

"For what is the meaning of time when I'm here in your arms. We are not making history; we are making eternity reality, Alfred."

RADIO

Of the sounds mixing in the air were creaks of bed springs and shuffles of covers, the sweet sounds of kisses and a hint of skin on skin. They weren't alone though with the sound of a low buzzing radio broadcast filtering through quietly.

"..and here's the wind up folks..He pitches. and it's a hit! There it goes over the fence! Home run for the Mets!"

"OH YEAH! TO THE PLAYOFFS WE GO BABY!"

"ALFRED! TURN THE BLOODY GAME OFF WHILE WE'RE MAKING OUT!"


FISH

Damn, Alfred realized he had slept in until lunch again. In an attempt to discourage this, apparently Arthur had decided to cook. With a sigh, the American went down to the kitchen and slid an arm around the grumpy Englishman's waist so he could be easily pushed out of the kitchen.

"Tried to make brochet au four, darlin'?"

The only response was a slap and grumbling about how Arthur was making an English dish, not a tasteless French one.

SAND

The sand was warm between his toes and against his back and the day was beautiful. But when he got home and found sand in rather unmentionable places, Alfred regretted letting Arthur talk him into sex on the beach.



Hourglass

Arthur was staring at the hourglass again. Alfred didn't know how to approach his lover in moments such as these. It was only then did he ever feel the centuries that separated them. But how could he know that Arthur was reminded of the fleeting lives of humans that seemed to pass like the sands of the hourglass? Or that Arthur once sailed under a black flag with an hourglass upon it, reminding fellow sailors that their time on this earth was fleeting?

NOODLES

Alfred was scrunched up as close as possible to the fireplace of Arthur's apartment. It was rainy and cold outside and just the type of weather Alfred hated. Arthur however, had grown to love this type of weather and for one reason only. He moved from his favorite reclining chair and sat behind Alfred letting the younger boy lean back on him. This was that reason.

Plushie

"I-it wasn't necessary, git!"

He had expected that Arthur would start complaining, even if it was obvious that he had wanted that plushie. The way Arthur was hugging the unicorn that Alfred won for him, and that little smile that appeared on his face everytime he glanced at it was enough proof.

"T-thank you, though... I-I mean, now everyone's watching us and you didn't have to! But thank you..." It had been merely a whisper, but it was enough for Alfred.

See, he was right, Arthur had wanted that unicorn plushie.

Sunshine

(Laaaate. I wrote one for Sunshine, the last topic. I feel as though my long ramble-y compound sentences cheat even if there are only five of them, so maybe it's for the best)

It was always that one beam of light, the blinding kind that made his head throb and pound, that always seemed to weasel its way through the drapes and stir Arthur from his sleep after a particularly eventful night at the pubs. Not that he usually remembered what happened of course, or even would realize such as he tugged at the duvet and rolled over once more trying to ignore the irritation. But, just as his luck would have it, this was hardly manageable causing the sandy blonde to grumble and curse and finally open his eyes. The sight he was met with wasn't a new one, golden hair, broad back and tan skin snuggled comfortably down into the mattress, his mattress, and stealing most if not all of the covers. With a sigh and a rather forceful kick, followed by a crash and a moan, Arthur was ready to curl back up and sleep off his hangover for at least a few more hours while that Alfred and his smile got the hell out of his house for the nth time.

Ring

"Ring a ring of rosies..." He giggled, delirious as he lay swathed under blanket after blankets. Somewhere, America was calling up France, Italy, anyone to find out why the hell England was contracting the bubonic plague centuries after its devastating epidemic. "A pocketful of posies," he sang, his fingers lightly raking over the rashes forming, drawing droplets of blood. "Atishoo, atishoo, we all fall down-"

And fall he did.


((...oops. Morbid. ))

I forgot D:



CINNAMON

Arthur had always been transfixed by cinnamon.

It had been such a rare spice, discovered in Ceylon oh so many centuries ago. When he had sailed under the black flag, it had not been simply in search of gold, but rare exotic treasures such as cinnamon.

With such a history behind it, Arthur was quite stunned at the amount of cinnamon Alfred was dumping into his homemade applesauce. Surely this was a waste of the spice that Arthur had quite literally killed for lo those many years ago.

(( bah, I can't keep pirate Arthur out of my little drabbles))

DOLL