A/N: Written for the US/UK lj comm's Sweethearts' Week!

Day 07 Prompt: Valentine's Day

Also, you should probably note a few names: Seychelles: Angélique | Belgium: Emma | Netherlands: Abel | Denmark: Isaak Christiansen | Norway: Lukas Thomassen | Iceland: Eirík Oðinsson (It will be written as 'Odinsson'.) Any other names that are mentioned aren't really important. Although, you get points if you tell me what three of the other names used have in common. :D

As Arthur passed through the halls of the school, he was met with a wide range of emotions. Girls were crying in both glee and sorrow, guys were running from other girls—one girl in particular held something in her hand; Arthur couldn't quite tell what it was but it glinted dangerously as he passed the particularly worried-looking Russian student. There were fighting couples, there were laughing couples, and there were kissing couples. Arthur rolled his eyes.

Valentine's Day.

He personally had nothing against the day—just the strange psychological effect it seemed to have on people. Arthur never had anyone to celebrate it with and while he supposed it would be nice it just wasn't a large concern for him. He had things to see to that deflected his time.

"Hey, Arthur—you gonna go to the hockey game tonight?"

Yet he was always reminded of whom he'd like to celebrate it with at the most inopportune times, especially when the object of said affection swung his arm over Arthur's shoulder. Warmth spread through him and the shiver that traveled like a ghost over his skin he hoped Alfred didn't feel. Then again, it was colder outside and Alfred was busy on the ice these last few weeks. Maybe he wouldn't pick up on it, even through his jersey.

"It's gonna be awesome! We're up against West Valley Academy. Just a small school, easy pickings. It's obvious we're gonna win."

"I'm not sure if I can make it," Arthur lamented. "I have to arrange a meeting with the prom committee."

"Prom? Isn't that months away? Come on, come to the game!"

"Alfred, ice rinks are cold!"

"Well duh, it's an ice rink—it can't be warm, or it'd melt! You can't exactly swim in all that gear. Ahh, come on—you never come to the hockey games! This is your last year here and you're the student body president or whatever. Isn't that an obligation?" Alfred whined.

Arthur sighed, sneaking out from under Alfred's arm. "Alfred…. You know that hockey isn't really my sport of choice." None of Alfred's sports seemed to be what Arthur enjoyed. The most action he got was in the chess club. He was a fan of proper football, though. It was just that he'd never joined the team and even said that he refused until the school agreed to change the appellation from 'soccer' to 'football'. But other sports…. Arthur knew he'd die if he played American football, he'd never been able to wrap his mind around baseball, and hockey was up near the same level of American football and he quite liked having all of his teeth. Alfred, thankfully, still had all of his teeth but he had broken his nose on several occasions.

Alfred dropped the hopefulness in his voice, turning it to settled rejection. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. Kay—I'll see you at lunch, yeah? I got chem to run off to."

Arthur nodded. "Very well. Bye."

The first half of the day went…. Arthur wouldn't say it was spectacular but during his chemistry class he'd been passed a folded piece of cardstock from his lab-partner, Lukas, who was also on the hockey team.

At lunch, things had temporarily returned to normal for Arthur and Alfred. Francis had approached with more girls on his arms than usual (even a few boys trailed along). It appeared that the frog had an issue with a teacher of tardiness and refused to leave lest Arthur help him somehow. Not wanting to deal with him at all, he quickly wrote him a note of excuse and shooed him away. Gilbert sat between his brother and Matthew whereas Ludwig insisted that Feliciano sit between himself and Lovino. Lovino was busy cussing out Antonio, who sat opposite of him, for not keeping Francis away earlier that morning. Roderich was being fed schnitzel by Elizaveta, who lived next door to Arthur, and Emma was helping Antonio heal his stubbed toe with no help from Abel. While most of the others were busy, Arthur told the story about the valentine he'd received.

**
"I got this from a guy who got it from a girl who got it from another girl who got it from a guy who got it from someone I can't remember who said that this is for you."

The Norwegian looked at Arthur with that blank stare he gave almost everyone he deemed unworthy of his time, handing him the small, square piece of paper—a valentine. Light green and closed with a sticker that looked like an H20 molecule. Arthur looked at it quizzically—he'd never been the recipient of a valentine, before; usually just the ire of those he presided over. The outside said, "To Arthur Kirkland, From Your Long-Time Secret Admirer."

Secret admirer? It was just a joke, right? He opened the valentine and inside it had read, "Are you a copper-tellurium alloy? Cuz you are CuTe!" He'd stared at it until someone had accidentally bumped into him from behind. He dropped the valentine into the solution he and Lukas had been working on and both boys watched as the acid ate it up.

Arthur stared at Lukas, who stared back. "Way to go. Someone's heart was just eaten away by that acid."

"Oops…."
**

"Dude! That's totally uncool! Someone's heart is broken!" Alfred exclaimed, laughing. "Poor chick is probably sobbing her heart out."

"Someone say 'chick'?"

"Shut up and return to your wiener, Gilbert!" Elizaveta ordered.

Gilbert only chuckled. "Heh-heh. Wiener. Get it, Ludwig? Get it?"

Matthew shoved a piece of pancake into Gilbert's mouth. "He gets it," he said as Alfred's phone rang.

Arthur groaned. He'd really only intended for Alfred and Matthew to listen in. He supposed he'd be able to put up with Gilbert but Elizaveta…. Elizaveta was another story.

"Who do you think it was?" she asked. "Whose handwriting did it look like?" Her eyes were wide and inquisitive.

"Er…. Didn't … much pay attention to the handwriting, to be honest." He hadn't—he'd been too surprised by just its arrival to analyze the writing. If only he had paid attention! He knew almost everyone in the school's style of writing; he would have been able to pin down who it had been. Unless they'd gotten someone else to write it…. That wouldn't make any sense, though. The goal of the secret admirer was to reveal themselves—not keep themselves a secret. (He did know, though, that it was not Alfred's writing. Not that he'd allowed himself to get his hopes up quite that high.)

"Fifty dollars?" Alfred suddenly exclaimed, catching everyone's attention. He was still on his phone. "Bro, come on! …No, it's fine. Yeah, three-o-clock. Nah, leave that blank, I'll take care of it. Thanks."

Arthur took a bite of his toast—it wasn't burnt, just particularly well-done, thank you very much—and looked in Alfred's direction. "What was that about? What are you spending fifty dollars on? But most importantly, why is your mobile phone turned on during school hours?"

Of any of those questions, it was the last that seemed to catch Alfred off guard but it seemed to relieve him the most. "Haha, you'll find out later. It's gonna be awesome! …I think."

"It's actually really lame, trust me. I would know awesome." Gilbert butted in again. "He told me about it. All it is is—"

Alfred's eyes had grown wide with worry and Elizaveta's grew with excitement, as if she'd figured something out while Gilbert's mouth had been shoved with two pancakes this time.

Arthur had no idea what was going on. He was getting a headache.

The second half of Arthur's day had only grown stranger. Alfred had barely spoken to him after the phone call he'd received which had definitely off-set Arthur but what had him truly spooked was Elizaveta.

Elizaveta shared Arthur's classes after lunch and since Gilbert's outburst at the table, she wore a truly frightening grin and her eyes looked to be focusing on a non-existent realm. During their Latin class they received Valentine's Day puzzles to work on as a break from regular class activities and she became so lost in her daydream that she'd forgotten to speak in either English or Latin, instead resorting to her native Hungarian. She babbled on and on, saying words that Arthur couldn't even begin to comprehend. It was at the end of her babbling, after she'd colored all of their activity sheets in red, purple, and pink hearts, that she fixed Arthur with a very lost and dreamy gaze.

Their last class of the day had been the worst but he could decide for which reason: His complete and utter embarrassment or the fact that Elizaveta had passed out for an entire fifteen minutes.

**
They'd been taking notes dutifully—Arthur had, anyway; Elizaveta was busy scribbling Valentine's Day things on the fourteenth sheet of paper in her notebook—and were close to finishing the lecture when a knock had come at the door. Arthur couldn't see who it was but just a few moments later, their teacher had re-entered the room with a giant bouquet of flowers. He couldn't quite tell what the flowers were but he rolled his eyes. The classroom was not a place for such loud gifts!

"Kirkland—these are for you, from…. Well, that's a strange name. 'Secret Admirer Who Gave You the Valentine Earlier'."

Arthur promptly sunk down in his seat as the teacher placed the flowers on his desk to the sound of chattering classmates and excited giggles. Like a hungry wolf, Elizaveta snatched the flowers and the small name card attached to it. She read the card, let out an excited squeal, then handed them back to Arthur as she repeated something over and over in Hungarian. Arthur hadn't seen her take a breath and was not in the least surprised when she passed out on her desk.

Leaving class had taken a bit of ruffling Elizaveta's shoulders and she was still a little light-headed so Arthur hadn't expected any English any time soon. Arthur threw his bag over his shoulder to leave for the committee meeting, mysterious bouquet in hand, and exited with a yawning Elizaveta.

"Arthur—whoa! Who's the lucky girl?"

His day was never going to get better, was it? Alfred had been in the hall passing by and Arthur, despite not ever feeding his feelings for the other, suddenly felt very much like a traitor and it only grew the wider Alfred's smile became.

"O-oh, these aren't! No, I'm not giving these to anyone—!"

Elizaveta seemed to finally recognize Alfred's existence and immediately grabbed the front of his hockey jersey, pushing and pulling him back and forth with another continuous squeal until she became too lightheaded once again. This time, thankfully, she didn't faint.

"A present from that secret admirer?" Alfred asked, straightening his jersey. Arthur fought off doing it for him. "Try not to drop them in any acid this time, yeah?" he requested with a laugh.

"…How did you know—?"

"Sorry, Art, gotta run! Gotta be at the rink by four. Bye, Elizaveta!"

Arthur scowled. "My name is not 'Art'." He yelled down the hall, "It's ARTHUR!"
**

For poor Arthur, having Elizaveta in his afternoon classes was one thing but she was also on the prom committee to, "Make sure everything is perfect and romantic!" even months in advance. She was still stuck on … whatever she was stuck on. The prom committee meeting hadn't been long as only one other person (Angélique) had shown up. So Arthur and Elizaveta were packing their things, ready to leave at 4:30 pm instead of 5:00 pm.

"It's so romantic…. Tragic, almost!"

Arthur had jumped at the words. "So you're finally back to speaking English? Cheers!"

"Romantic, Arthur! Perfectly romantic and absolutely tragic! The best kind there is!" She was practically waltzing solo throughout the room.

"I'm afraid," Arthur began. "I don't see the allure of a one-sided romance." He'd been in one long enough. He would know.

Elizaveta stopped, pounding her hands on the table. "It's dramatic! It's amazing! It's wonderful!" She grabbed the flowers once more, sniffing and touching the petals as she sat gracefully in her seat. She glanced again at the name card and noticed something.

"Arthur, there's a message on the inside!"

His eyebrows creased. "Let me see it," he said before Elizaveta could get excited over it. Seriously, what was her deal? Dutifully, she handed it all over, almost bouncing up and down in her seat. Arthur gave a minute shake of his head. The woman was just crazy. His fingers quickly found the tag and sure enough—it opened up to reveal a written note.

To find out who I am, meet me at 5:15, 4829 S. Union St.

Arthur stared at it for a moment, reading it several times more and trying to study the handwriting. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anyone whose handwriting quite resembled this. It was still a mystery to him, dammit!

"What does it say?" the other demanded. "Tell me!"

Before Arthur could get anything out of his mouth, the flowers were once again snatched away from him. It was actually becoming quite annoying. Those were his flowers. Nothers. Roderich could get her flowers.

As Elizaveta began doing her thing again, Arthur sighed. Yes, they were his flowers but from whom? Surely it wasn't a girl—girls didn't give boys flowers. Boys gave girls flowers, but Arthur was anything but a girl. …His secret admirer didn't actually think he was more androgynous than masculine, did they? Sure, he was of a more slender build but none of his features were particularly effeminate…. Maybe … maybe the secret admirer (counting on them being male of course) was simply brought up in a way to believe that it was their duty, no matter what gender they desired, to bequeath the object of their affection with flowers. Put like that, Arthur had to admit he didn't mind it. Besides, receiving flowers like that … was rather romantic…. Even if he was a guy.

"Are you going to go meet them?"

Arthur snapped his head up. "Beg your pardon?"

"Are you going to meet this person?" Elizaveta had appeared to calm down some.

He remained silent for a moment, thinking. He stared at the flowers. He would only go if he knew for sure who the person was. As though he'd go on the off-chance of meeting a complete nutter! "N-no," he finally said. Elizaveta's face dropped. "No, I'm not. I have no idea who this person is! They could be a raving lunatic! Why would I endanger myself for such a silly reason? I already know that it's not—"

Arthur stopped himself, glaring off to the distance. This was pathetic. He knew perfectly well who he wanted this to be and though he'd not thought much on it, he really hadworked himself up. Well, now it all came crashing down. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Elizaveta. I didn't mean to lash out."

Elizaveta grinned. "It's all right! Would you go if others went with you just in case? I know that Gilbert and Ludwig aren't going to—well, not Gilbert. But Ludwig and Roderich will be able to go. Please, Arthur? Imagine if this is that chance. That chance where if you don't take it, you'll never know what could have happened."

"…You've been watching too many movies."

"Oh, come on—I've seen the books you read, Miss Brontë."

Arthur reddened. "Fine, fine, I'll go! Bloody hell!"

Elizaveta threw her arms into the air, smile wide on her face.

Just a few touches on her phone's keypad later, Ludwig and Roderich had appeared, ready to go. Elizaveta practically shoved them along, all three men, and stuffed them into Ludwig's car in a hurry. At her insistence, Ludwig sped along—unwillingly, mind—and they reached the address promptly. Arthur's eyes blinked at all of the people. So many students from the school. What were they all doing here?

As he got out of the car, he realized where exactly they were when he saw the lettering above the building's entrance. Redford Ice Rink.

This many people actually liked hockey…?

"Well, let's get inside! It's already 5:10!" Elizaveta said, pulling Arthur and his bouquet along and through the throngs of people stuffing themselves into the stands. Arthur had never said, "Excuse me," "Dreadfully sorry," or "Pardon me," so many times. Finally things came to a halt. Arthur took a deep breath and collected himself and made sure the flowers weren't injured—they'd been through a lot in these last several hours and he feared that if he didn't get them in water soon, they'd wither away. Those were the only issues with flowers. A nice and pretty expensive gift that died all too soon. Horrific symbolism.

His heart was starting to speed up a little bit with the start of the game inside and now the fear of a no-show was beginning to spread though him. He had nothing to judge this on—simply anticipation. He glanced around the room as the stragglers filed past with their families to support their sons, or their friends, or boyfriends. The clock read 5:14 and Arthur began tapping the toe of his shoe on the concrete beneath him. He bit his lip. Elizaveta, Ludwig, and Roderich stood off to the side. Ludwig didn't look particularly bothered, Roderich was studying some sheet music, and Elizaveta's excited grin was still very much in place. She waved excitedly but Arthur couldn't bring himself to do much more than nod.

Standing here with these flowers, alone and watching the minutes tick by, he felt like a fool. An embarrassed and let-down fool.

He scoffed, trying not to show his embarrassment. "Come on, you lot—it's almost 5:30."

He let the flowers drop to his side but before he could take one step for the exit, he found Ludwig's hand on his shoulder, halting him.

"Gilbert is here to watch Williams play and I have to drive him home since his car is currently out of commission. I would like to stay for the remainder of the game if that is all right with you."

…Like he could really say 'no' with piercing blue eyes staring down at him. "That's fine." And he was lead inside, Roderich and Elizaveta travelling behind. At least Alfred would be happy.

Entering the arena, Arthur was met with a rather chilly blast of air. It was February—really. He was sick of the cold already. Sighing, he was lead forward to the stairs but they hadn't travelled far. He was stopped at the first row behind a box of sorts, where sat several members of his schools' hockey players and a coach.

"Ludwiiiig! Ludwiiig, come down here, Ludwiiig!" Feliciano sang, jumping up and down. "I saved you a seaaaaat, Ludwiiig!"

The German in question's face was pink and Arthur doubted it could be from the chill. He cut across the sit next to Feliciano which left three empty seats. Arthur climbed in first to sit next to Antonio and he set his flowers on his lap as Elizaveta and Roderich took their seats next to him.

"Arturo, I had not pegged you as one for hockey!" Antonio began joyfully. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I'm not, really, though I was unaware that you … enjoyed this sport as well."

Antonio laughed. "It's all right. Why do you have flowers, amigo? Someone special?" He was grinning. Stupid Spaniard, usually cheerful without a care in the world.

"Er..."

"They were from his secret admirer!" Elizaveta piped up. Arthur sunk down as low as he possibly could, ignoring any further conversation between the two. While they spoke animatedly, Arthur's eyes travelled around the arena. People up in their seats, small advertisements for public functions, and finally they landed on the scoreboard. The score was 0-0 with 2 minutes left in the first period.

"We have Thomassen with the puck skating down. A quick pass to Oxenstierna, past Fredstone; the puck is handed off to Odinsson, Odinsson shoots—blocked by Borne!"

Arthur sat up, now, looking out at the ice. Those three names were familiar—Lukas, from his chemistry class, his little brother Eirík (who barely looked as though he ever often gave much of a care about anything), and Berwald. At their end stood the Russian student, Ivan, before their net and else out on the ice Arthur's eyes found the number 13, Matthew, and 50. Alfred.

The horn sounded the end of the first period; their players on the ice came back to the bench and then walked, almost waddled, their way back to the locker rooms. He almost called Alfred out to let him know he was there but he wasn't looking in the best of moods as he tromped back with his team. Arthur kept his mouth shut, fingers playing with the paper of the bouquet until the team emerged ten minutes later. Tino had replaced Eirík for the moment and Isaak replaced Ivan as goalie. Ivan did not appear thrilled so Arthur made a note to avoid him in the halls for a few days. Alfred and Matthew, however, were back on the ice where Berwald was facing off against a rather rough-looking fellow from the other team. The puck dropped and immediately the other team's man slapped the puck away, skating past Berwald in a hurry. Alfred sped up after him with Matthew and Tino on either side of him. Tino swept before him with his lithe form, easily coercing the puck into the cradle of his blade. (People around Arthur cheered. Arthur applauded politely.) Tino, being smaller than all of the others out there, easily evaded any kind of interception. He slowed himself, though, which had turned out to be a mistake.

He shot the puck with no problem to Matthew but a goon from the other team hadn't bothered to process that Tino was no longer the one he wanted. He slammed hard into Tino as Matthew shot the puck into the net. The score was counted right before the time-out was called but it didn't seem to matter where Tino was concerned: Berwald was right there, commencing a fight. Matthew stayed out of it but the other members of their team, Alfred included, joined in as the other teams' players piled on. Arthur felt his heart speed up just a little as Alfred was pulled off by a referee. Alfred, helmet in hand, glided to the bench and went to sit down but he looked up at just the right time.

Alfred's eyes met Arthur's and the scowl he'd been wearing turned immediately into a wide smile. His hair was all over the place and his face shone with sweat. There Arthur was, shivering, but Alfred was likely dying of heat under all of that gear.

"Arthur, you made it! And you brought your flowers!"

Arthur nodded with a grin. "Yeah, it just turned out that way."

"Jones, sit down!" a voice interrupted. Alfred flinched and offered Arthur a quick, "Sorry!" and sat down.

It was then that Arthur felt a stare on him. He turned quickly and found Elizaveta staring at him with the same scary grin from before. Roderich didn't appear to be paying attention as he made marks in his papers.

The rest of the second period continued on, the score rising to 3-3 by the middle of the third, Matthew scoring what the commentators had called a 'hat trick,' whatever that was. Ivan was back in goal, Alfred back in with Lukas, Eirík, Tino, and Matthew. Arthur's throat had become a little sore: He would never admit to it, but he'd gotten so into the game that when Alfred had gotten into a small tussle with Fredstone, who'd checked Matthew, he'd leapt up, yelling and screaming with the rest of his classmates—except Antonio. Antonio had flinched away, scooting as far away from Arthur as he could. Gilbert, however, tried to climb up and over onto the ice, thankfully held back by Ludwig.

"Three minutes remain in the third period and…. The puck is dropped! Thomassen skates down the rink, shoots, but it's stolen by Eriksson. Eriksson passes to McCarty who shoots but it's blocked by Braginski! Williams catches it back—Williams has been playing so well tonight and he doesn't seem to be slowing down at all! Jones and Väinämöinen come up to flank—he shoots behind to Jones, Jones takes the puck around but Franzen's coming straight for him and they crash!"

Arthur flinched as the two fell to the ice which, of course, started another fight. Was it just part of the hockey code to fight rather than play? They were acting as though they were actually professionals—weren't there rules in high school hockey?

No matter the rules or ethical code for the sport, Alfred found himself in the penalty box for two of what remained of the 3 minutes of the period. Arthur sent him a pitiful look but Alfred grinned and shrugged though he sported a rather bloody nose. Arthur couldn't turn his attention back to the game; it remained on Alfred has he cleaned up as best he could. Before he prepared himself to go back on to the ice for the last 30-or-so seconds, he turned to Arthur. He pointed to Arthur but his eyes glanced back-and-forth between him and something. His finger moved up and down minutely, then Alfred pointed to himself. Arthur cocked his head to the side and Alfred rolled his eyes with an animated shrug.

The young man was truly confusing at times but even so, Arthur just added it to why he was so attracted to him.

Alfred resorted to a small game of charades, his hands holding something invisible, and bringing them up to his face, followed by his hands in the shape of a heart. He pointed again between Arthur and whatever-it-was several times more before he flung himself out on the ice.

Arthur watched Alfred skate out towards the action and it hit him as Elizaveta nearly screamed of excitement, having reverted back to Hungarian.

Alfred had given him the flowers. They had been what Alfred's phone call was about at lunch, and everyone's reactions. Arthur looked at them, then down the row of his friends, some of whom were giving him knowing looks while others—namely Gilbert—were still focused on the game. His eyes refused to focus on any one thing as his heart couldn't decide what tempo to settle at. His mind as well had no idea where to stop racing. He felt his hands begin to shake just a little bit. Thinking on it, of course it was Alfred—Alfred had to be the one to give him the chemistry valentine; no one else would be that corny.

Berwald, right in front of him, turned, staring at him.

"He'll b'last'in th'lock'r room. Alw'ys is."

Berwald turned back around to watch the last 20 seconds and Arthur shot up from his seat. He brushed past a shocked Elizaveta and unbothered Roderich, leaving the arena to enter the empty lobby. He leaned against the wall, staring at the flowers.

Alfred had given them to him. Alfred. The last two years, Arthur had beat down his feelings; he'd told himself time and time again that Alfred was his best friend and saying anything to him about his feelings would ruin it. Now he held these flowers. From Alfred.

How was he supposed to know how to react? Did he go to meet Alfred after the game? Did he act like he never understood Alfred's act of charades? He groaned, looking up at the ceiling before pacing to the cheers and boos of the crowd inside as the game came to a close. Arthur stepped back, watching as people began to slowly trickle out. He still had no idea what to do but he knew that he couldn't face Elizaveta to just leave Alfred like that with no answer. Then again, he supposed that gave him the answer. He'd face Alfred after the team left. His heart sped up again, worry and dread filling him, though as to why he had no idea.

Alfred had been the one to give him flowers and, for all intents and purposes, confess. Hadn't that been what Arthur wanted? He could at least go say, "Thank you," while joking about Alfred being too concerned for his loneliness. Yes, that was his plan.

After travelling the building for possibly 10 minutes, Arthur finally found the locker room, having seen Berwald and Tino exit right after Lukas and Eirík, all of them with their giant bags full with gear and sticks. Isaak rushed out a moment later, calling out for Lukas to wait up and as Arthur felt it was free to enter, Matthew exited. At first Arthur thought it was Alfred and had frozen.

"Arthur! Ah, I suppose you're here for Alfred, eh?" he asked with a gentle grin. "He'll be a lot happier to see you—he's not in the greatest of moods after the loss and getting yelled at by the coach…. Good luck."

Arthur's throat constricted, able to only nod as Matthew walked past. Once out of sight, Arthur fixed his gaze on the locker room door before taking a deep breath and entering. The room smelled faintly of sweat but it wasn't overbearing. He peaked around, flowers nestled at his front as he came around a set of lockers.

Alfred was there, glaring at his open locker. He'd torn his jersey off and ripped off his gear as best he could. His skates were already off, the guards on the blade and strings tucked in. His hair was still a mess and became more so as he pulled his sweat-soaked undershirt off. Arthur felt the heat rise in his face. Suddenly the smell of hard-earned sweat didn't smell quite as unpleasant as he'd thought it had before.

He gulped and Arthur discovered that his gulps were apparently audible as it had caught Alfred's attention.

Both Alfred's and Arthur's eyes widened upon meeting each other.

"H-hey, Arthur, I thought you'd left." Alfred looked quickly to the bouquet, his hands falling from where they'd been working on loosening his pants.

"Oh, er…. I just needed a breath of fresh air. The seats were rather crowded and you know how I hate large crowds." He coughed and gestured to the flowers. "Thanks. For the bouquet. You didn't need to give me flowers to remind me of my doomed life-long bachelor-hood." He gave an amused grin, trying to play it off as best he could.

Alfred's eyebrows lifted just a bit. "I didn't get them for you cuzza that. I uh…. I actually got them for you. As … an actual V-day gift. From me."

Arthur looked down at the flowers, trying hard not to grin or assume anything.

"When I saw you'd left I thought that meant you didn't like me back—not that I assumed you did, or anything! Just kinda hoped. I'd gotten distracted, missed the puck, got into another fight, and I can't play the next game. …So…. If you … really don't wanna accept the flowers, it's cool. I'll understand."

The flowers found a place on the bench as Arthur walked forward. "Honestly, I have no idea if I should punch or slap you, if only for the fact you've been hit enough times tonight."

"Wha'?"

"I was here!" Arthur announced, crossing his arms. He fixed Alfred with a soft glare. "I was here at 5:15, like you said in that note! I waited for you to show but you stood me up, leaving me looking like a right fool! On top of that, flowers? I'm not a girl, however nice they are, and they'll die! You could have at least given me something that wouldn't die. Chocolates, maybe?"

Alfred ran a hand through his hair. Arthur found it took a little bit of effort to not study each line in Alfred's skin as he moved. "Technically, I was here! I never gave a specific meeting place! Just this building and I was here! And I didn't know what to do! I figured that you liked that kind of romantic stuff! Chocolates never crossed my mind."

Arthur didn't say anything to that, instead deciding to look off to the side at something. "Those gits on the other team clearly knocked you around too much. …You're all right, though, yes…? You're not too badly injured?"

Alfred let only the slightest hint of an uncertain grin twitch into place. "Nose is just a little sore. But uh…. Is that a yes or a no…?"

Arthur gathered his courage, taking a step to close the distance between them. The sweat hadn't dried from him yet but Arthur didn't care as he pressed himself against Alfred in a hug. "It's a yes, Alfred."

"Sweet!" Alfred hugged Arthur back tightly. "That's so cool—but uh. I gotta ask you to step out so I can shower really fast. When I'm done, though, you wanna, um. Y'wanna go to dinner with me?"

"Are you asking me out on a proper date?"

"…Yeah."

"Then yes. I'll go to dinner with you."

"Even more awesome! Kay—I'll be really fast!"

Arthur turned without a word and picked up the flowers to wait in the lobby. The smile refused to leave his face, even as he sat down on a bench to wait. His mobile rang and he checked. It was a text from Elizaveta.

Are you all right?

Much more quickly than he'd ever bothered to before, he texted back, 'Never better,' and even included one of those silly little emoticon smiles.

Upon entering Alfred's truck, Arthur found his bookbag with a note from Matthew saying that he'd found it forgotten in Ludwig's car. Arthur had completely forgotten and made a mental note to thank him the next day.

Finding a place to dine was a small challenge for both Arthur and Alfred. Arthur flat-out refused to have a Valentine's Day dinner at McDonald's but they both had a rather tight budget.

Until Arthur remembered something. Their dear friend Francis owed him a favor and as his parents owned a restaurant … it seemed to work well. Ten minutes of yelling, denial, and general annoyance, Arthur had secured a nice table for two with a 75%-off discount of their total price with the threat of Arthur revoking Francis' allowances at school. Dinner had been amazing (not that Arthur was going to admit that to Francis and instead insist the disgust of the food) but Arthur had picked a different part of the evening as his favorite. Even though it was more bittersweet, Arthur smiled most when thinking of it.

As a proper date should have, Alfred walked Arthur to his front door when dropping him off. They stood at the door awkwardly for a few brief moments; Arthur's bag was slung over a shoulder and he held his bouquet at his side, eager to get them in some water and Alfred was grinning.

"I uh…" he began. "Thanks. I really enjoyed having dinner with you."

"It was just French, nothing special. We can have McDonald's next time, if you'd like. But I really liked tonight. Thank you."

They were both at a loss for words but something that had been bothering Arthur since he'd figured it out at the hockey game exited him before he could stop. "How long have you liked me?"

Alfred turned red again as he struggled for an answer. "I can't really pinpoint a date, or anything, I just … I dunno…. Since my freshman year…? Three years ago?" His voice grew quieter as he went on.

Arthur just grinned. "I have to admit, you've held my attention since then though I cannot say it was favorable."

"That's cold."

"So was the ice rink. Speaking of which, you're not hurt, are you? You weren't just putting up a front earlier?"

Alfred shook his head. "Nah, I'm all right. My pride's more hurt than anything about the next game." Alfred grimaced a bit but he shrugged. He fixed Arthur with a stare and bit his lip. "D'ya minefai kissah?"

"…I beg your pardon?"

Alfred sighed. "Do you mind," he said slowly. "If I kiss you?"

Something jumped to block Arthur's throat. He wasn't entirely sure if it was a good thing but it was likely cutting off his oxygen supply. "You may," he responded softly.

He stood there completely still, watching in slow motion as Alfred leaned forward, carefully pressing his lips to Arthur's. Arthur just about melted—the lump in his throat receded and oxygen re-entered his body, helping to send a warm, comfortable tingle to the tips of his fingers and toes. Up until Alfred stepped back. Arthur's mind, despite receiving the aforementioned oxygen, was fuzzy and Arthur wasn't sure he detested it. He blinked Alfred into focus and before he knew what he was doing, he'd stepped forward to give Alfred a kiss a bit stronger than what he'd been given. Alfred seemed to get over the surprise soon enough, kissing Arthur back with the same energy. The only issue had been when Arthur had gone to open his mouth for Alfred—he'd moved the wrong way, hitting Alfred's nose which, apparently, was still very sore from earlier. He'd released a sharp hiss, pulling back quickly to touch tenderly at the bridge.

"Alfred, I'm so sorry! Here, come inside and I'll get you some ice for it! Are you okay?"

"M'all right. Just a bit sore." Despite the words, his voice was slightly strained.

"…Alfred, that's more than, 'just a bit sore'! Come inside—"

"I couldn't possibly—it's only our first date, pervert."

Arthur turned a brilliant scarlet as Alfred started to lightly laugh. "That is horrible!" Arthur commented. "Absolutely uncalled for!"

"Aww, c'mon. I was joking. But I will be all right. I'll take care of it at home. I'll see you tomorrow at school, yeah?"

Arthur calmed down and nodded. "Of course."

"Unless, like…. I dunno…." Alfred scratched the back of his head. "You want me to pick you up in the morning…?"

Arthur grinned. "That would be very nice," he answered. Could his heart beat any faster?

"Awesome, I'll be here around seven-fifteen! Be ready, okay?"

"I will be."

Carefully this time, Alfred kissed Arthur with a quick, "Good bye," and hopped down the stairs of the front porch to get back in his truck. He honked the horn, waved, and drove home. Arthur, meanwhile, entered his house with a wide grin, causing his parents to ask if he was all right.

He stole upstairs to his room, bag dropped to the floor and flowers placed on his desk as he grabbed a small vase with water for them. He arranged them nicely then sat down to read Elizaveta's new text.

I saw that!

Arthur blanched, just hoping she hadn't taken pictures. His phone buzzed again.

I couldn't grab my camera in
time, though. D:

A breath of relief exited Arthur at this message.

You poor thing, he texted back with a grin. His attention returned to the flowers and he remembered his homework—none of which had been done at all. Despite his position in the school and his responsibilities, Arthur found that … he didn't really care. Of course, he knew that this view would change tomorrow morning when he faced his teachers, even though he knew they'd let him off easy as he'd finally gone to a school sports function. He showered, prepared his things for the next morning, and as he crawled into bed his phone went off again.

This time it was Alfred saying goodnight. Arthur returned a very similar text and fell asleep, his attention on the bouquet of flowers now sitting on his desk.

-END-