Seven Minutes in Heaven... White

"So…" Gilbert began, putting the top hat underneath his arm as he stared at you, "What did you get?"

"White," you answered, raising an eyebrow. Who would have white?

"Cool! You got me!"

Ah shit.

You got Alfred.

Alfred F. Jones.

Freaking Alfred F. Jones.

See, he's not just any Alfred F. Jones. He happens to be the same Alfred F. Jones that you just so happen to have a crush on. Not only is he gorgeous with beautiful baby blue eyes, tanned skin, a fit frame, and sandy blonde hair, he's also got an amazing personality. A red hot blush rose to your face, covering your cheeks in a dusty pink as you thought about what exactly you two would be doing in a closet all alone for seven minutes. You shook your head and shakily stood up, using Arthur's shoulder for a crutch.
He raised a bushy eyebrow up at you then smirked, knowing of your love for one of his many enemies.

"Allow me to escort you to the closet," Arthur smiled, standing up. Alfred frowned.

"No fair dude! I'm the hero!"

"And I'm the gentleman, bloody git!" Arthur snapped back, eyes going white with rage. Such a quick tempered fool… Alfred scowled, huffed, and pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. This gesture made your inner-girl-senses tingle from such a cuteness overload. You just wanted to eat up everything about him! Arthur ended up leading you by the elbow to the closet before lightly nudging you in. He gave you a look that clearly meant:

Good luck.

Thank God.

You needed it.

After Alfred joined you in the room that barely allowed any wiggle room, Arthur shut the door and locked it, a click sounding before either of you began to talk.

"So, _______," Alfred began, "What's it like being in a closet with the hero?"

You blushed and turned your head away, "It's ok, I guess."

"What do you mean: "You guess"…? I think you'd know that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"Alfred," you deadpanned at your friend, "we played opposite each other in Romeo and Juliet in junior year."

"What a fun time that was, huh?" he smirked at you. "Want to relive the balcony scene?"

"E-Excuse me?"

"You know what I'm talking about!"

Yes, yes you did. Your director –a major Shakespeare fan –decided that, to make the love affair between Romeo and Juliet seem real, he'd forced you and Alfred to, after reciting the lines you were supposed to, engage in a dramatic make-session. Since you weren't at all opposed to this –even in junior year you'd had a crush on the blonde –the two of you commenced to this behavior every practice so you'd relieve the awkwardness.

The blush on your cheeks increased tenfold as you stared blankly at Alfred. He averted his eyes in the dark, and you could barely get a glimpse of the light sprinkling of pink on his tanned cheeks.

"Unless you don't want to of course…"

"What are you talking about?" you asked him, "Of course I want to!" With that, you threw your arms around his neck and pressed his soft lips to yours, relishing in the feeling. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your lower regions closer to each other. You pressed your chest to his and turned your head, deepening the kiss, only to feel his tongue drag across your bottom lip, seeking entrance into your wet cavern. You granted him access and he drug his tongue across yours, making you moan and tingle at the ticklish touch.

He grinned into your mouth and continued to explore, his pink muscle dancing around the inside of your mouth. He pulled out and the two of you caught your breath, panting as you stared into each other's eyes.

"You're better than you were back in the play," he pointed out, staring deeply into your eyes. You smirked at him, and then whispered seductively:

"I've had practice."

After you said that, he growled and dove at you again, this time trailing his lips down your neck until he stopped to suck on your sweet spot. You moaned slightly then bit your tongue, not wanting to subject yourself to the numerous catcalls that would definitely be coming your way if you moaned too loud. Alfred made a discontented noise as he ran his tongue in a circle over your sweet spot, making moans rise up in your throat, barely contained by your will power. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he hoisted you up, holding you on him by his arms as he attacked your neck. Dissatisfied with your lack of participation, Alfred removed his lips and then locked them back with yours. You engaged his tongue in a battle for dominance, the two pink muscles moving against each other –trying to win. It was a seemingly endless battle –you wanting to taste his sweetness and him already addicted to yours –neither of you wanted to lose.

Right as he began to overpower you, the lock clicked and the door opened, making light flood into the small space –as well as sending the two of you to the ground. You pulled your face away –only to have your lips connected by a silvery strand of saliva.

"AWESOME!" Gilbert Beilschmidt, one of Alfred's best friends shouted out, fist pumping, "Get some Jones! Zhe awesome Prussian approves!"

"Go Alfred!" Matthias shouted, joining in the calls. There were a few unenthusiastic claps from the surrounding guests. You quickly stood up and dusted yourself off, blushing from head to toe. Alfred wrapped his arms around your middle and rested his head on your shoulder, turned his head to the side so he could easily kiss you on the cheek.

Together –with him still behind you –you walked to the back couches and sat down, you in his lap.

"So," he began, "I guess this means that you're officially my girlfriend, huh?"

You shrugged and giggled slightly, "I guess so, hero."

"Good. That means we can hang out tonight."

You smirked, "I'm looking forward to it."