(Reserved for TP)

Arthur Kirkland wiped a thin layer of sweat from his brow, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"That should do it," he muttered to himself, smiling at the newly polished plane. He worked hard to maintain its beauty, and it had to match the rest of the other proud planes sitting with the Royal Air Force. It would simply not do to be the odd one out with something he worked so hard for.

Throwing his cleaning rag on a nearby bench, he stretched his back out, lifting his arms above his head and taking a deep breath. He took a look around to check if anyone else might be admiring his handiwork, and when no one was, he left. Leave it to them to not appreciate a good polishing when they saw one.

He crossed the field and headed for the main area of the base, leaving the airfield with a sense of content. Once he'd made his way into the air-conditioned building, he looked to his co-workers, watching them scuffle about the hallways with bundles of paperwork. 'Don't receive owt for nowt' if his uncle told him correctly, hence the busy work of the lot.

"Kirkland!" someone called to him, causing him to turn around quickly. He observed one of his superiors escorting a young man a few years younger than he.

"Kirkland, we have a new inductee on base," the superior huffed, before clearing his throat, "Since, you haven't been a mentor yet I'm leaving this kid to you." The superior flipped through the various papers on his clipboard, "This is--"

The eager blonde could not chew back his excitement any longer for with his long reach his gripped Arthur firmly by the hand hand and shook it. "Alfred F. Jones!" He voice boomed, ending with a echoing chuckle.

Although the blonde was a bit younger than the Brit that stood in front of him, it would be hard to tell. Alfred towered over Arthur but a few inches and his biceps hugged his new uniform tighter. His eyes sparkled looking down at him, the ADHDness flooding into them.

"So when are we going see the killer-diller? Ya' know the planes? And are we going to bust those Kraut-head's chops?" He exclaimed, hoping up and down in place.

The superior officer shook his head, letting this kid be Arthur's proitory now. "He's from London, 19, and an excellent--self-proclaimed--soldier. Don't fail your country, Pilot." He finished, looking at Arthur. He was almost expecting a miracle by leaving the frazzled teenager with only Arthur to show him the ropes.

The young Italian, who barely smiled ever, left a small tip to the beautiful~ waitress at the bar and took off. He had far more important things to do then to flirt with random woman. Lovino Vargas was on a mission to his friend..the man that actually made Lovino feel like a human being--But that wasn't even important at the time. Those daydreams and fantasy lands could hold on for just a little longer.

Lovino tugged at the color of is Fascist uniform, one he felt disgusted wearing. He wiped the sweat from his palms onto his pants. It wasn't just hot-oh hell no--he was becoming nervous because the more he traveled the war-wrecked streets of Barcelona he good feel himself getting closer to Antonio.

Passing, what seemed to be a poor citizen Romano called, "Hey, can you tell me if you seen this idiot?" He held out a crinkled black and white photo of Antonio, Feliciano, and himself smiling together only weeks since Antonio had left and never came back.

Lovino was becoming more impatient until the person started speaking smooth Spanish.

(If you really wanted to, you could have just shoves it into one post X3> But if it's easier this way, we can do it this way)

Arthur at first felt a flood of responsibility fill him as the superior left the young charge to him, ignoring the tiny factlet that he had never mentored anyone yet and it was only because it was his turn. This feeling was slowly trickling down his body from head to toe, only to come to an abrupt stop when the kid opened his mouth. He suspected the feeling stopped somewhere around his midsection. He actually had no idea what the kid -Alfred- was talking about. What in the name of the Queen was a 'killer-diller?' How on earth did such an absurd name stand for planes?

As the superior worker left, aka abandoning the obnoxious, excitable blonde in his hands with words of not to fail his country, be it directed at him or at the blonde, Arthur wondered how he was going to perform this task.

"Well," he cleared his throat, steadying his anxious mind as he pondered this conundrum that had taken human form. "I'm Arthur Kirkland, technically your superior. Welcome to the RAF."

(I'm thinking about it now, but we are in 1940 or 1939? I think I'm doing the math wrong with the years from our notes. I can go through and change the dates if I'm wrong.)

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo had long ago blocked out that nervous tingling feeling that he felt all through his body while he was in Italy. He started calling it his Lovino-Senses way back when as a child. Whenever he thought his dear friend and practically half brother was snooping around for trouble, his mind would buzz and his heart would beat just a little bit faster. Back when he lived with two of the cutest Italian boys and probably the nicest Italian man in all of Europe, as soon as he felt his Lovi-Senses tingle he'd be off to search for the auburn haired male. Sure enough, he'd be getting into a fight, flirting -as a joke- with a woman who was probably and almost always already taken, or starting another fight. Right now his senses were going off again, but four years later his senses were buzzing pleasantly as strong as ever, and he had learned that in order to stay away, he had to block them out.

Back in 1939, after his release as a prisoner of war, the urge to return had very nearly disappeared. All for a good reason, of course, but when things returned to normal, the urge reared back up in full. Here he was though, 1940, aged 25, and he still couldn't see Lovino or Feliciano. He wondered if they even wanted to see him after he had up and left. Or if they knew he had joined the ugly Fascist side of Spain. Of his own free will, even!

(Oh pffft~ I just thought two posts would be easier for us to tell apart. Also I apologize for Alfred's 1940s slang it makes up for "Bro" and "dude" which I can't use~ Haha)

Alfred barely heard the other man's introduction as he was totally distracted with everything around him. All that was buzzing through his mind was the chance to kick some more Fascist ass, but even more exciting Nazi ass too. Fighting and glory was what fueled the hyper teen without it he was just an ordinary kid.

Alfred somehow clicked out of his enthused thoughts and gave a friendly grin at the "superior". "Alright Artie!" he yelled while giving him a strong pat on the shoulder. "I have a feeling you and I are going to have a nifty time together, chopbusting the Germans, flying planes, picking up the danes!"

Lovino slumped against the wall of nearby building, talking to that person was another delay in finding his Antonio. Lovino shook his head; his fingers dragging across his lips. Although he didn't want to admit it, Antonio had been the only hopeful thought he clung onto in the past years. Antonio consumed Lovino's thoughts, dreams, even he unspeakable needs so often that Lovino started to hate himself for it. Being Italian, he was born and raised on the house of God and thinking of another man in the way Lovino was hellish.

He huffed angrily at those stupid thoughts, but soon realized it was getting replace with concern. He cursed to himself, "Dammit Lovino, I'm sure that stupid smiling idiot is fine.."

He proceeded to watch the passing Spaniards, not showing much cheerfulness in their homeland of rumble. "Fuck..Where are you Antonio?"

(no, slang is very good. It makes it more, I don't know, I guess I could say realistic, but it makes it cuter. I'm using British slang, which I don't think is very hard to understand, but the old American slang you're using is effectively and adorably confusing Arthur and I XD)

The blonde Brit had a feeling he was being ignored when the other blonde didn't respond right away. Perhaps there was some ADD fueling his system? Arthur had a feeling it was ADD. When he finally reclaimed the hyperactive male's attention, he winced at the nickname, a big mistake he had learned from living with his cousins. Once they knew he couldn't stand the nickname Artie he was done for.

"My name is not Artie, now belt up or I'll box your ears for insubordination." He glared at the younger male, wondering how on earth he could have been raised to act like this in such a serious work environment. "And no, we do not 'pick up danes,' as you put it. You'll leave the birds well alone while you're on duty." Not that everyone followed that, but it was more of a respect thing in Arthur's opinion. Now, where were they to start? Was he supposed to show him the ropes? Teach him conduct? Faffing about wouldn't get him anywhere, he was certain.

Antonio couldn't help but feel he should have chosen the democratic side of Spain's population when he performed his duties as a Fascist officer. So far he had managed to avoid using the Falangist dagger he had obtained for his service to the Fascist party.

He also couldn't help but feel that without a little weeding out, his country couldn't be the best country it was capable of, and there was little else that Antonio would kill or be killed for, if not his country. Lovino and his sweet brother were one of those things, but they weren't here now. Antonio didn't know if he could face them again, no matter how much he wanted.

((Okay, so I have no idea what Antonio is actually doing right now. I also don't know too much about what an active Fascist party would do. Tips?))

( I'm glad you like it~ I'm glad it's confusing Arthur, but I can give you translations if you want xD. Btw, British slang is cute~ )

Alfred looked down at the smaller man and was wondering what was up his ass. Must have been a huge stick is the conclusion he came to, he couldn't think of anything else. If Arthur's demeanor did anything it was making the blonde feel sad. He never really had a chance to make many friends in the Civil war in Spain, mainly because it ended quicker than expected. Alfred just shrugged those thoughts away. This was going funnier, trying to teach a stick in the mud how to live.

"Yeah, but isn't Artie is your new nickname, given by me," he beamed, pointing a thumb at himself. "You should feel special I don't give all the guys I meet a super nickname. You should feel special!"

( I guess he can still be recovering from his wounds in a house somewhere. Maybe being a fascist spy can be Antonio's job? He's suppose to collect outside information? )

Outside of the building, what seemed to be a boarding house for anyone in need or the injured, Lovino stood observing quietly. He thought why not collect information in Spain while looking for Antonio, he was a democratic spy after all completely hidden under his Italian Nationalists uniform.

He took a long drag of his cigarette while listening to a few women talking about the people staying in the home. His heart almost stopped when he heard them talk about a "Unusually happy man with curly locks". Sure, any Spanish man could have curly hair, but a smile in the middle of war? Not likely.

Lovino flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with his foot. He took hold of the golden cross, the one Antonio gave him, hanging around his neck to give him courage to go into the boarding home. "Please God, I know I'm a bad caholic and a sinner. But please, let this be him."

Oh, didn't he feel special. A fantastic not-new-to-him nickname that he didn't expect to hear ever since he left his uncle's house and cousins behind. Well, at least it wasn't "Eyebrows" or something that ridiculed his thicker-than-normal eyebrows. He had a childhood companion who had called them caterpillars. Artie was a ton better than Bushy Brows, too. He had heard all the names, honestly. He would be surprised to hear anything that his cousins hadn't made up already.

"Well, see here, you barmy oaf," Arthur, not Artie, said in his most commanding voice. "You don't treat your superiors like this or you'll get a boot in the backside, I guarantee. We're here to defend the Queen's country, not to give people 'special nicknames,' so I suggest you stop." He gave a huff of finale when he finished, attempting to look dignified and determined to break Alfred of his stupid idea of nicknaming and disrespecting others.

(This is a very good idea. Antonio will be spying for info for the Fascists, so when he sees Lovi he can just lie and use him for info, despite feeling guilty.)

Heaving a great sigh of impatience, Antonio let his head fall back on the back of the chair he sat in. Healing and recovering was so boring when there was no one to talk to. Sure, he loved to be cheery and make other people in the residence he was staying at smile and look on the bright side, all the while gathering information and storing it away for later. There were the people who needed to laugh once in a while, and then there were the people who were so depressing, never cheering up when he tried his hardest. He wanted to help them, but when they didn't want his help, that's where he stopped pushing. He wished Lovi were here. Even when the other pushed him away, at least he cheered up.

The American had a feeling there was more than a stick up the Brit's ass. No, more like a tree. His mood was starting to bum Alfred out and he was starting to lose a tad of his friendliness towards the one who was pushing him away. All Alfred wanted to do was fried, but obviously this "superior" wanted to be enemies.

Alfred crossed his arms and laughed. "The Queen's Country? I think you have me misunderstood."

( How kind of Antonio xD )

As if he was on cue, as if he could hear Antonio's inner thoughts, Lovino walked in. This was the room the damn people told him to go to if he wanted to see the "Smiling Soldier", and Lovino couldn't care less if he made a fool in front of a complete stranger. He needed to know.

He stood in the doorway, frozen from what his eyes were transfixed on. There, sitting in the chair was the man he fantasized about for all those years, the man who consumed his thoughts, who he ached for in those intense times of loneliness. This is what he wanted and he couldn't even muster a word. Lovino guessed he was looking incredibly stupid gaping and staring. Through his relieve however, he felt this pit in his stomach looking at the state of the Spaniard he longed for. The bandages stained with blood, the dark circles under his eyes, and those..scars scarring his beautiful tan skin. This was not how Lovino remember his Antonio.

Then at the back of his mind he was wondering if Antonio would recognize him; he was a lot different. The Italian had hit his growth sport quite well, and his cheek muscles broadened. Not only that, but he had gained a muscular, huskier frame from all his training. There was also the fact he was dressed in dirty Italian Fascist uniform and it disgusted Lovino to imagine how horrible he must of smelled.

He was starting to wondering if this was such a good idea in the first place.

He had no idea how to respond to the obnoxious younger male. He didn't seem to take no for an answer, or take orders well in general. Arthur certainly couldn't lay back and let the other walk all over him though, but for now, orders were not important to follow. Perhaps he could talk the other out of the stupid nickname in the future.

"Well then, let's carry on. I'll show you around the building and around base in general. We'll see what we do from then on, all right?"

From there on he led the young man through a tour of the base, giving small tips of information and history to certain locations.

At first Antonio considered paying no mind to the person who had walked in before acknowledging that it was rude to ignore people. He lifted his head up, expecting one of the others who resided here or worked here, only to freeze. His heart skipped a beat as his mind processed the person in front of him. Not that it was hard to understand who exactly it was that stood before him. His mind doubted it, but his heart was soaring with assured joy. He was suddenly very embarrassed to be in such a place looking as he did. This was why he kept away from the Italian family that had become his very own. He didn't want any of them to see him like this.

"Lovino? Is that you?" he asked quietly. "No, of course it's you. How could it not be you?" His tongue ran over his cracked lips carefully, wondering how to proceed with the situation at hand.

Alfred was admittedly getting bored, which wasn't hard at all for the attention spam he had. Arthur's boring history stories were not helping the blonde stay focus. For one, Alfred despised history for he hated his own past. He never saw the point in living in the past when there were so many greater things to accomplish in the future. Alfred was no doubt one who lived in the moment and took every chance he could get. But...instead he was listening to Arthur ramble about history of some planes, a building and even a rock. A rock for god sakes.

Alfred was so bored he couldn't help but look at the lanky man's body, eyes strangely focusing on his oh so flat ass. This thought made Alfred chuckle at first, but then shake his head. He wasn't suppose to be thinking such thoughts about a comrade, that kind of silly business was reserved for the danes.

"Sooo...where do I eat and sleep?" Alfred question, already pushing back a yawn. "Are you my roommate, eyebrows?" He also couldn't help commenting on the humongous hairy growths above the Brits eyes. Alfred had heard the rumor of Brits having large eyebrows, but this was insane.

For a brief moment, Lovino's body reflected his mind with a violent tremble. The Italian man had to dig his nails into his arm to calm himself. He couldn't believe Antonio remember him; he had been so afraid that he would've been pushed from the other's mind. Lovino hid his face to the side as he bit a lip nervously. Everything he wanted to say, all his feelings where bubbling at his throat when he finally shouted, pretty hoarsely, "I came here for that money you borrowed from my grandpa, you bastard, you better pay up!"

Mentally, Lovino face palmed himself. He was so stupid stupid stupid sometimes.

Arthur was quite enjoying teaching another youngster about history, giving advice, even giving his own opinion. He was getting very wrapped up in telling the other many facts about the area and of planes. The boy couldn't be very smart, he figured. What with the way he talked and where he had come from, Arthur couldn't help but stereotype him and tie his intelligence in.

He felt his train of thought come to a screeching halt, only to not brake fast enough and to crash badly into another train. Alfred's voice and first comment did that to his state of mind.

Sure, he hadn't been very positive if the other male was paying any attention or looking at the walls or the ground. He had even told himself he was using it as practice for future rookies. But honestly, he had actually enjoyed imparting knowledge to another.

"Eating and sleeping, that must be all you think about, hm?" he ground out. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow in frustration. Frustration was very loosely used, mind. This was more like a very tempting urge to strangle the other for the disrespect he felt he was receiving.

The Spaniard thought the Italian would burst from pent up emotions. The young boy was always trapping his feelings. Antonio used to think hugging him would make him stop bottling them up. Like unleashing a cork from a wine bottle. Turns out all it did was get him hit or yelled at. Not that it stopped him. Sometimes he got too excited and forgot that the Italian had a fit when he hugged him. Or touched him. Usually if he talked to him, too. Antonio didn't think he really meant anything behind his anger though. He felt he knew the boy better than most, who would assume Lovino was just very ill tempered.

He let the other work out his own feelings. Antonio wanted to know what the other honestly felt. Of course, honesty would most likely be the one thing Antonio wasn't completely offering today.

"Oh, the money, is that right?" he asked when the answer came out. "If your grandfather all right? Does he need the money right away? He isn't hurt, is he?" Antonio asked, wondering if Lovino was upset because his parental figure was potentially injured. Antonio didn't have the money right now, but he could scrape everything he possibly could if it would help Lovino's grandfather.

Alfred looked back at the uppity British man; he knew that look on the other's face all too well. It was the face many people gave him when they perceived him as an airhead. The truth was when Alfred was Mathew he was a straight A student, had perfect citizenship marks and even excelled in his US History courses. Now Alfred, he didn't have to show his intelligence. Besides, it was way easier to pretend not to read the atmosphere and be silly. Alfred really didn't care what Arthur and other's thought. As long as he was happy with who he was and not trapped in the wrong body like previously.

"Of course, I do! Eating, sleeping and fighting is how you live large, you ninny!" Alfred chuckled, patting the shorter male on his back not minding his own strenght. "Especially if there is liberty sandwiches served, I could always go for a good liberty sandwich!" His smile was wide and gleamed brightly.

Even though he seemed to have dropped it, he wondered if the grumpy English man was going to be his roommate or possible partner on the battlefield. At the moment, he couldn't help but internally groan at that thought. He would much rather prefer someone who actually got his jokes and would drink with him while picking up ladies. Alfred did have to admit he could get use to the cute scold always on the Brit's face though.

Lovino's knees locked when he heard Antonio speak to him again in the sweet voice of his, that one that haunted his dreams and kept him awake. He could really go for one of Antonio's hugs, the one's he truly loved. He acted like he hated them by pushing the other away, but in reality he craved the older man's attention and touch. No other person, besides Feliciano and rarely his grandfather, touched Lovino. Even so, Antonio touch and held him differently..in a way Lovino felt cared for.

"N-no!" He managed to choke out. "The old man is as healthy as a teenager." With shaky legs and against his will, Lovino pushed himself to step closer to Antonio. "But you aren't..." he whispered with a voice laced with sadness.

Lovino gingerly ran a few fingers over a bandage on Antonio's cheek, which softly grazed his soft flesh. Lovino's eyes flicker back and forth from emotions for he couldn't let Antonio see his true feelings that easily.

"There is more to life than just eating, sleeping, and fighting. Regardless of wanting to live large," he scolded, inwardly groaning when the other mentioned something called 'liberty sandwich.' He had never heard of one. Must be an American food.

"As for fighting with someone, check the papers, not me. I haven't ever heard of you until recently, so why would I know?" Actually, he was needing to check too, just to make sure he wasn't stuck with the new guy. No one ever wanted to be stuck with new people. They were nothing but trouble and a hindrance to a job, most would agree. "The guy who brought you in probably knows, if you ask." If not, maybe they would make a quick assignment. Hopefully assign the kid to bunk with some poor wanker of lower rank.

Antonio was surprised and relieved that the older man was uninjured and well. He could rest easier knowing he had more time to repay the man. He was sure that his old friend would understand if he took just a bit longer though. The Spaniard couldn't help but feel the corners of his lips twitch in amusement at Lovino's fragile reaction.

"Because I am not a teenager, I am an adult. Old enough to fight, old enough to do anything." That was how he felt, anyway. Maybe he still did have his childish sense of humour, but war changed people, even Antonio was unable to escape change. The gentle fingers running across his cheek ever so gentle made Antonio feel as though all of his pain could be lifted away.

Like the blood-family he didn't have anymore, Lovino and his family more than made up for what he missed. The touch of his younger-brother-friend-figure made him feel as though the entire battlefield was unimportant and he should return home right now.

"What are you doing away from home?" he asked, trying to lock eyes with the fleeting gaze of the Italian.