When Arthur realized that his soulmate watch was set to go off in the middle of the war, he prayed that it would be a WREN or WAAF, or even a pretty nurse (but only if his injury was something small like a broken finger). He prayed even harder for it to not be some frog lady or a female kraut. But, at the rate things were going, Arthur was growing more and more suspicious of just who his soulmate might be.

Tick, tock, two minutes left to the clock.

Arthur was rounding a corner in the pilots' barracks, a place where no ladies would be, and a heaviness in his chest was beginning to weigh him down.

Tick, tock, one minute on the dot.

Arthur was standing in front of his designated room, refusing to open the door. His hand was on the knob, but he didn't twist it. Perhaps a WAAF officer had gotten lost? Perhaps a spy? He couldn't be a fag, he was a fine British gentleman, and gentlemen had no illicit preferences. Sure, he was rather small, but that meant nothing.

Tick, tock, thirty seconds to walk.

From behind the door, Arthur could hear a shuffling sound. Loud, booted footsteps slapped against the creaky wooden floorboards. Footsteps that seemed to be growing in volume.

The door swung open.

Tick, tock, time is up.

Arthur found himself in the shadow of a very tall, rather striking American officer with blazing blue eyes and messy blond locks. He was well built too, Arthur noted with envy. Someone like him would have made a fine husband for any proper lady.

While Arthur was in his stupor, the American leaned down and collected their watches before anyone could find out. The American inspected Arthur's watch in his hands, turning it over and over and studying the scratches and bumps that had accumulated over the span of Arthur's life.

It was the American who broke the silence. "You should come in. It looks like we have a lot to talk about," he said with a wry smile on his lips.

He held the door open for Arthur, who was numb or shell shocked and had yet to accept the events that had transpired.

Sitting beside one another on Arthur's lower bunk, the pair were engulfed in awkward silence.

Arthur's gaze pierced the wall he faced, not quite at terms with the events that just transpired. The American, for his part, was taking it rather well. He was watching Arthur, hoping his soul mate wouldn't do anything too drastic.

"So, uh," the American broke the silence, "I'm Lieutenant Alfred F. Jones and I'm a pilot?"

There was no response.

Alfred continued talking. "So I have a cousin who's Canadian and he's my wing man and we both joined the air force once we were legal. Can't let those Nazis destroy the world, can we?"

Still no response.

"Um, it'd be really nice to know my soulmate's name? I mean, I get that this isn't ideal for either of us but could you at least do something so I know someone's in there? Maybe blink three times if you can hear me!"

Arthur then snapped out of his reverie and turned to Alfred, looking him straight in the eye. In a tone of the utmost seriousness, he said, "I am not a fag."

Laughing, Alfred pulled Arthur's cap off his head. "And I didn't think I was either, but the clocks are never wrong. Can't do much to change fate, you know."

"But I'm not," Arthur insisted, his voice taking a desperate tone. "This is wrong!"

Alfred recognized that arguing at that moment would have been a moot point and stood. "You probably need some time to collect yourself a bit. I'll leave for a bit, go meet some of the other boys. Hopefully I'll know your name when I get back."

As he left, he snuck a quick smile to Arthur before he slipped out the door.

Arthur said nothing.

"Arthur Kirkland."

Upon his return to the Bunker he now shared with his soul mate, Alfred was greeted with two words that he wasn't expecting. Closing the door behind him, he said, "pardon me?"

"Arthur Kirkland. That's my name." Arthur was still sitting on his bunk, now out of his uniform and sitting cross legged.

Grinning, Alfred extended a hand. "Well Arthur, it sure is a pleasure to meet ya."

For a second, Arthur eyed the hand warily with furrowed brows before relaxing his expression and reciprocating the action.

Alfred had a firm handshake, Arthur noted, and with their entwined hands between them they shared a tentative smile.

There were a great many things Arthur regretted in his life, but as he sat in the infirmary, he realized there was nothing he wished to change more than his prejudice and coldness towards his own soulmate.

Only a week had passed since Arthur lost his watch and with the war raging at home and abroad, the watches were really more of a hindrance to the war efforts. A week of awkward silences and tentative conversations between Arthur and Alfred. The fault would have to lay solely with Arthur, for Alfred had been more than willing to know his soulmate. Hunched over, face buried in his hands, Arthur realized what his close-mindedness had nearly cost him. So what if the world would disapprove? So what if he would be ostracized for the rest of his life? Frankly, the identity of his soulmate did not concern anyone else.

And as he sat on the cold, hard chair, he came to terms with his foolishness.

It was 1944 and the Krauts had launched a final, desperate bombing on London. Being the hero he proclaimed himself to be, Alfred had been amongst the first to respond while Arthur was still gathering his wits, brushing off dark memories of the nights spent in the cellar, the Blitz occurring a few feet above his head. It was an unpleasant sight, indeed, when a paramedic returned with a bruised and bloody Alfred.

(The stupid American was fine, only a scratch from a fallen post, but it looked so terrible and there was so much blood on Alfred and the paramedic and Arthur had just about lost his mind seeing his soulmate in such a condition.)

Quietly, Arthur stood and made his way to the room Alfred was assigned to. He was to be released in two day's time, but Arthur didn't want to waste another moment.

Thankfully, by some miracle, Alfred was the only occupant of his room and he had not yet fallen asleep.

His blue eyes rested on Arthur, soft and not at all resentful. With a pang in his heart, Arthur realized that soulmate was not necessarily a romantic mate, but a partner in whom he could entrust his life to.

Taking a seat beside the cot, bashful smile and clenched fists, Arthur began his speech.

And Alfred, bless his soul, never once held anything against Arthur.

I should be studying for IB.

I chose to write about gay nation AU instead.

If anyone cared, my first exam was okay. Only 14 left to go~~ (cries)