We'll Meet Again by George DeValier
For me, We'll Meet Again is the lightest and sweetest story among these three from the Veraverse series. I'm actually thankful to this fic because. This story is the first of my ongoing Hetalia WW2 AU, the Veraverse. They generally tried to be well behaved, they poured a lot of money into. The idea that he would never see Alfred again left him breathless. The thought that he but no, he couldn't think that. Arthur tore off his apron.
Why did he keep asking Arthur to drink with him? Why did he keep looking over at Arthur behind the bar and waving? Why did he have to grin like that? And why the bloody hell did it affect Arthur so much when he did? Arthur risked a glance over at the pilot's table. He always sat at the same one, by the second front window, with that other fellow who looked so much like him that Arthur wondered if they were brothers.
Sure enough, Alfred was looking right at him. Arthur quickly looked down. He ran a hand over his heated forehead and felt it burning red. Throwing the cloth down, Arthur stormed over to the other side of the busy pub.
Surely there must be some empty glasses to pick up. An elderly regular nodded to him as he passed. Don't even know why we need them here, it's not as though our boys can't take on the Jerry's without them!
His eyes flashed fleetingly towards Alfred's table before he quickly turned to serve the table of rowdy soldiers. A few hours later, with the place thankfully somewhat quieter, Arthur finally had a chance to wipe down the vacant tables and collect empty glasses. He did have a few staff, but they only worked occasionally, and Arthur barely even knew their names. He preferred to do most of the work here himself. This was his pub, after all. It wasn't much, but it was his entire life; it was everything he knew.
The long bar that ran across the room, the old wooden tables and chairs that had never been replaced. The huge fireplace and its ornate mantelpiece. The ancient brick walls; the creaky narrow staircases that led down to the cold, dark cellar and up to his cosy, familiar living area. Arthur knew every part of this place like his own body. It had always been a family business, but Arthur was the last family member left here now.
He felt it his duty to do as much as possible on his own. Arthur headed back to the bar, glancing around the room as he went. Most of the patrons left were locals. The more intoxicated Americans had already been dragged back to base, but a few remained to have a few quiet drinks before close. Arthur tried to avoid looking his way, but could not ignore the loud voice that called to him as he walked past the American's table.
This could not be a good idea… "Very well then. After all, the place was fairly quiet. Maybe this would finally stop Alfred's constant requests, as well as put Arthur's own curiosities to rest. Alfred was obviously just a friendly young guy who treated everyone like this.
Arthur sat down at the table, taking the seat closest to the bar. He half hoped for a patron to approach it for a drink, giving him an excuse to leave.
Much to his annoyance, he was far too nervous sitting this close to Alfred. Arthur glared at him. Alfred slapped the man on the shoulder and grinned at Arthur.
He really did look remarkably like Alfred. Lovely pub you have here.
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Are you a pilot as well, Lieutenant? And besides, it was probably safer to make conversation with Matthew than Alfred. Like get yourself killed.
Confuses the hell out of some of the superiors, I tell ya what. Finally made Matt grow his hair so they can tell us apart. Alfred was not making it easy.
Matthew started to reply but Alfred cut him off.
We'll Meet Again Chapter 1, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic | FanFiction
No longer a subject of the British Empire, eh, Matt? Lives on maple syrup, carries little polar bears around…" Arthur furrowed his brow. He's my lucky mascot. Anyway, we all have one… a lucky charm that is. And nothing's ever turned up.
But hey, never needed one before. I'm alive, ain't I? Arthur thought he had better follow suit. Arthur was still not used to that laugh. It was the most boisterous, unique laugh he had ever heard. Usually half the pub turned and looked whenever Alfred let loose with it. At least the pub had quieted down even further, with only a handful of Americans still remaining.
He ignored it and picked up the bottle instead. For a long moment their eyes remained locked. Alfred's were wide, pleading. It took all Arthur's strength to tear his away. He turned, almost knocking the chair over in his haste, and rushed from the room. He tried desperately to hold himself together as he passed groups of patrons drinking and talking and laughing. His hands clenched into fists and his eyes stung.
Finally he pushed open the back door, hurried up the stairs and through his living area into his bedroom, and slammed the door behind him. Leaning back against it, he covered his face with his hands and promptly burst into tears. This was absurd, he told himself.a usuk video
He should be relieved to be rid of that annoying American, to get his life back, to not have to deal with this uncertainty and confusion.
But all he could feel was a cold, empty hole where his heart used to be. The idea that he would never see Alfred again left him breathless. The thought that he… but no, he couldn't think that. Arthur tore off his apron and tie, threw them angrily to the ground before unscrewing the bottle of rum. He took a deep gulp, unheeding of the burning in his throat. All he wanted was oblivion. He swallowed, breathed deeply, and drank again as the hot tears streamed over his cheeks.
He wiped them away impatiently. And Arthur had known all along that he would, but the reality of it knocked him nearly senseless.
We'll Meet Again
After gulping down a few more mouthfuls of rum, Arthur gasped for breath and headed for his bed, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers and never come up. But he stopped in his tracks as the door opened behind him. Arthur froze mid-step, feeling his stomach twist and his neck burn. He had forgotten to lock both doors.
The door behind him clicked shut and he felt a warm presence at his back. He couldn't turn around. Alfred's voice was rough and uncertain.
I don't want that to be the way we say goodbye. He tried to wipe his tears without making it obvious, but felt Alfred grasp his arm gently but firmly.
Arthur forced himself to turn and look at Alfred. The touch sent a shuddering strike across Arthur's skin. Arthur shook his head, paused, then nodded. No, I just… I…" Arthur took a deep breath, wiped his eyes, and helplessly let it all come out. What if he had this all wrong He leant down and kissed Arthur's eyelids gently. Arthur shivered at the touch, his skin tingling at Alfred's warm breath against him. But I couldn't help it. From the second I saw you, all I wanted was to make you smile. When Arthur looked up into those smiling blue eyes, he suddenly realised how terrified he was that Alfred wouldn't.
He abruptly stopped, panicked, and tried to push Alfred away, but was stunned when Alfred reacted strongly, devouring Arthur's mouth as he enclosed his waist with strong arms. Arthur felt such a strong jolt of desire that he was shocked, but when he realised Alfred was responding, everything he had denied feeling came flooding out.
He was terrified of Alfred leaving. He was terrified of Alfred forgetting him.
We'll Meet Again
He was terrified that maybe he had not meant to Alfred what Alfred had meant to him. He was simply terrified. Arthur tried to forget the terrifying thoughts by losing himself in Alfred, and he cried out in surprise when Alfred frantically lifted him with strong arms. Arthur's head started spinning. He wrapped his legs around Alfred and, their lips still joined, Alfred carried him to the bed, where they fell down together.
And Arthur finally accepted that this was what he had wanted all along. Alfred… "Alfred… Alfred…" Arthur gasped, clutching onto Alfred's shoulders; placing kisses on his lips, his cheek, his neck, his ears. Arthur's breath caught from the amazement of touching Alfred like this: Arthur's defences melted away completely.
It struck Arthur that they were both very, very aroused. Alfred was kissing him. That night, she put out the glass of scotch, the same as any other evening. The next morning, though Arthur hid a smirk and continued sinisterly. She repeated this ritual every night of her life until her death of old age. And it is well known that if this happens, you must leave it. For if you are to empty it before morning Alfred's face was frozen in a horrified glare.
Alfred shrieked, dropped both bottles of bourbon, and fled up the cellar stairs. It took Matthew and three Americans to drag Alfred away, all while he shouted that he was simply trying to save the unwitting customer from the deadly wrath of a vengeful ghost. Arthur had to offer the customer free beer for a month.
Evidently, he couldn't win. Over the next few nights, Alfred stayed late at the pub after all the soldiers had left.
They talked about everything. About Alfred's farm back in the states. About Arthur's family and how his parents had died and his brothers had left him… how they hated him. About Alfred's plane, over and over, his sweet Lady Beth that he described so many times that Arthur felt he knew her himself. About Arthur's fears that he wouldn't manage, would never live up to his parent's expectations, and that in the end his brothers would be right and he would fail.
And sometimes in those last dark hours, when everyone else had left and the sky was growing grey, Alfred would talk about his own fears. About the possibility of failure; that maybe he never would make a difference; the fact that very few pilots made it through unscathed. It was these rare talks that scared Arthur the most, and not knowing how it got there, his hand would slip into Alfred's, and he would wonder if he would ever cling to it in the future.
It was nearly empty. He was pretty bloody careful with his drinks around Alfred now It was late one evening, everyone had left, and once again Arthur was having a few drinks with Alfred after close.
Arthur had come to cherish this time, though he would never let Alfred know it. Sometimes it's easier to joke about it, ya know? But the words sent a cold tremor down his spine. The idea that Alfred It was too painful to think about. Alfred's smile faded, then he finally sighed and looked down. And I'm not just boasting when I say that, I mean it. That's why I'm a flight leader.
Because in the end, all it takes is a split second mistake, or the smallest navigational error, or a Kraut who is just a tiny bit better than you It was the first time Arthur had seen the loud, cheerful, confident pilot like this. It was scary, and strange, but it was honest, and Arthur felt his chest swell almost painfully. Then Alfred reached out his hand and Arthur took it slowly, nervously.