Sorry, My Boyfriend is Just Kind Of Old-Fashioned [Hetalia England x reader]

Chapter 11- Destination, England!

"Ohmigoshomigosh Arthur!!" You run over to Charlie's door, banging loudly on the pane with one hand, manila-print letter in the other.

"What in tarnation are you blabbering about now?" answers a sleepy-faced Arthur.

"This!" You wave the letter in his face excitedly. "Arthur, we're going to England!!!!"

~.~.~

You sit on the plane, hands in your lap. Pretending to look out the window, you steal a glance at Arthur and sigh happily. Despite last night, you had slept okay— no strange dreams, no supernatural phenomena. You could have sworn your arm felt a bit prickly, but you were sure it was just your imagination-- or even sleeping on it wrong--

Maybe it was just a fluke? Maybe Arthur would be okay in the present? In fact, all the bad side effects happened when you imagined being in his time period-- not the other way around, when you were happy being here.

And were you happy. You weren't sure how to reconcile all this with a trip to England, to the place it all started— Queensbury— where you hoped to get more details about the strange temporal incident that had placed Arthur in your bedroom a few months ago. In the words of Maurs, If you can't investigate time, investigate space, right?— and the one data point you had was that Arthur not only changed time but also location.

So, to Queensbury.

To get more details somehow and then also, you know-- figure out how to build a time machine.

A part of you knew it was crucial to get Arthur back. Another, louder part screamed--

I hope it's impossible.

Your arm prickles.

"Aren't you cold in that, (Name)?" Arthur shivers a little from the AC, rubbing the sides of his dress jacket to keep warm. You shrug and look down in a satisfied way at your freshly-bought white wool mini dress-- designer, of course, Gucci to be precise.

"The part that's covering me, sure, it's toasty!" you say quite a bit loudly, causing Arthur's cheeks to flush bright red.

"Besides, I want to look great when we arrive for the interview," you add more seriously.

"Just how do you afford all this stuff, (Name)?" Arthur ponders.

You grin a bit too widely. Since you came from money, a swipe of the credit card, and it was all yours. Even Arthur's ticket, business-class, was no big deal to your bank account. So why were you grinning? Not because of the money-- actually, that had nothing to do with it-- but because of how excited you were to be applying to your first overseas internship in the fashion industry (the official valid reason for your mother to permit you to go on this trip.) That's right, for THE Burberry Co in the UK. I mean, freaking Emma Watson worked for that place, and they wanted you!

To work as a model. Maybe, just because you were from money and your father had bribed them or something in lieu of actually spending time with you, but it was your dream. Gosh, Emma Watson, Burberry, Britain-- talk about good looking people!

You tilt your head slightly to the right. And here was the best-looking of them all--

"Tea or coffee, miss?"

"O-Oh. Coffee, thank y--"

"Oh, gracious, is that TEA? Some tea please-- right here in the plastic cup please-- yes, fill her right up please-- PFFFFT! This is not tea, this is dirty water!!" Arthur exclaims, nearly spitting the hot beverage out, and sends the tea cup splattering everywhere over your new dress.

"I-I'm terribly sorry miss!!" The flight attendant begs forgiveness.

"Arthur! What were you thinking?!"

"I'm sorry!" he exclaims. "It's just that... that... I'm still not thoroughly used to that..." He points to the small patch of sky escaping through the small window.

"Are we... are we really flying tens of thousands of metres above the sea...?"

Your gaze softens instantly. "Yes, Arthur-- here, I'll switch seats with you!"

"I'm still terribly sorry about your dress..." he mumbles. "I must be such a hassle..."

"Are you kidding? Arthur, you're like my favourite person ever!" you say loudly, boyishly, to mask the meaning and the beating heart behind those words.

Trying not to stare at the mark on your chest, Arthur runs his hand through his hair nervously and laughs. "Are you sure-- that's quite a compliment, (Name)!"

"Anytime," you reply, making sure the hostess is out of sight as you brush your lips just under his chin. He flushes.

"S-So, wanna movie marathon?!?" you exclaim stupidly.

"More magic mirrors? Sure, (Name), but-- ah, it's nothing..."

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"Want to want to want to it's 'WANT____TO-- bugger!" Arthur mutters under his breath.