Small Minds Could Never Understand The Crucible.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT IN ANYWAY OWN HETALIA, ITS CHARACTERS OR ARTHUR MILLERS 'CRUCIBLE'.

"Hey Iggy?" the Englishman sighed and turned to his companion, who was sprawled out on the opposite sofa. A copy of Arthur Miller's 'The Crucible' lay discarded on the floor.

"Yes Alfred?"

"Why were people hanged just because other people believed they were witches?" Arthur sighed heavily yet again, before making himself comfortable for what he knew would be a long conversation.

"Well you see, it's a lot more complex than just someone believing you were a witch, like for ex-" He was interrupted by a yawning American.

"Come on Artie, I haven't got all day. Can't you just give me the simple, short version?"

"Right," Arthur glared at the youth, annoyed at his obvious lack of respect, "I forgot that you have such a small brain and are hence unable to understand most things!"

There was silence for a moment, as Alfred tried to understand what had just been said.

"Hey," the American launched himself violently off the couch, "I do not have a small brain!" Arthur grinned, laughing inwardly at the boy's reaction.

"You most definitely do Al. I mean, how many times have I tried to teach you the simple act of making tea; yet you have failed to master it, and always seem to find a way to fuck it up?"

"That's . . . just because coffee's better!"

"That's a whole different argument. My point was simply your lack to do anything because of your understandably small brain. Plus, the fact you managed to fail every single one of your exams you ever took!"

Alfred splutter, outraged.

"Oh yeah, well at least I never backed down in a battle; because of something as ... ludicrous as emotions!"

There was silence yet again, followed by a loud gasp as the American finally realized what he had said. "Oh god, Artie. I didn't mean it, I swear."

"Get out."

"Huh...?"

"I said get out." Arthurs eyes had glazed over, pain laced through the turquoise depths.

"No please, Arthur. I really didn't mean it, I was ju-just so angry!"

"And so you think that gave you the right to bring up painful memories?" his voice was dull, a hint of angry barely hidden.

"Fuck no. Seriously, Artie – I didn't mean it. Gosh, I wish I could just fucking take it back. I'm so, so, so sorry. Shit, I fucking love you Arthur Kirkland – I never wanted to hurt you. Not then and certainly not now." the American fell back onto the sofa, clutching his head in his palms.

Silence echoed throughout the house, as Alfred prepared himself for what was to come.

"You know, whatever semblance of good manners you have obtained throughout the years disappears whenever you become emotional."

"What?" Alfred looked up at his partner, confusion evident across his face. That so wasn't what he had been expecting. He watched, entranced, as a small smile worked its way across the Brit's lips. And he knew, without a doubt, he was forgiven. "Woo-hoo!" He launched himself at Arthur, hugging the man close to his chest as if he'd never let go.

'Bloody Americans.' The Englishman grinned, hugging Alfred back as if he, too, would never let go. "By the way . . . I love you too Alfred Jones."

Lips met in a gentle, loving kiss. They broke apart, and leant their foreheads against one another, breathing deeply.

"Iggy?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't care if you say I have small mind, 'cause we both know I make up for it in . . . other areas." Alfred winked at the blushing Brit before running off, giggling.

A/N: Would you believe that I got inspiration for this from my English assesment? Currently, Im writing an essay about the use of POWER within the play itself, and i grew so bored today that - ta da ! This is what occured. Anyways, i hope you liked it and thanks for reading. R&R ! 33