A cool December air had settled over the Boston harbor. Crowding around three different British ships, a large group of colonists watched as poorly disguised Indians broke open the creates in the haul. The ones on the deck spilled open to reveal tea delivered from Britain by the East India Company. Each of the Indians then dumped one of the crates contents into the water before dropping the crate all together. The wooden boxes floated on the surface as the water took on a dingy shade, barely darker than it had been before.

"Last one," a young man said as he poured the last crate of tea into the harbor. He wiped a arm across his brow, smearing the red face paint that had been on his forehead. His blue eyes took in the scene before him and he smiled lightly.

Proud of their accomplishment, the colonists cheered. They thought that the event that would later come to be known as the Boston Tea Party would teach Britain a lesson, but it only caused the country to become that much more enraged. As a result of their misdeeds, parliament set into motion The Coercive Acts, affectionately called The Intolerable Acts, by the people of Massachusetts. The Acts included the closing of Boston harbor until the tea was paid for, a limiting of town meetings to once a year, and a suspending of Massachusetts' general court among many other laws.

Returning to the bustling capital, the blonde young man that had taken part in the Boston Tea Party wondered through the busy streets in search of someone. He had dressed himself in the suit that had been given to him some time ago. Although he only wore it for special occasions, he found the need to wear it today. He was to meet a friend who would be coming from over seas.

He made his way toward the harbor. A new ship was sailing into port, its white sails extended as they caught the wind. The crew on board ran frantically across the deck as they attempted to secure the sails again for their docking. Alfred watched as they finally docked and set down the plank that would allow any passengers that were on board to walk off. An Englishman, not much older than Alfred with lighter blonde hair and thicker eyebrows, strolled down the plank and into the port. "Alfred?" he asked in surprise when he met with him. "You're wearing your suit."

"Hey Britain," he greeted. "It's good to see you..." Although his words were meant to be sincere, they sounded more as if they were questioning themselves.

"Well, I traveled all this way to see my little brother. How about we do something together?" England asked.

"Sure...whatever. I guess," Alfred answered as he put his hands into the pockets of his bottoms. He had not wanted to meet Arthur today. In fact, he had been hoping that Britain would not show at all.

They walked together down the streets of Boston, both appearing as fine gentlemen. England attempted to chat some with his younger friend, but he seemed unresponsive. "Something wrong?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, maybe," Alfred answered.

"Well, you can tell me what it is, git," Arthur said with a slight laugh.

"It's the new laws...they're kind of stupid," America answered after what seemed like forever.

"Stupid? I'll have you know that they are to keep you out of trouble."

"Out of trouble? They cause even more trouble!"

"If you wouldn't have caused that bloody riot, there would be no need to punish you."

For another moment, America paused as if his resolve had faltered. The rage in his older friend's face was clear, but he could not help seeing it as an angry parent. It was if he were treating him like a child, spanking him on the rear end for having done something wrong. The thought of him being a child stirred something within Alfred. "I'm not a child," he growled.

"Really? You seem to be acting as such," England answered.

They fell silent for a moment, allowing for the tension between them to grow. All at once, they both snapped again. There were several more shouts back and forth before they finally parted. Alfred returned to his home, while Arthur found something to do. It would take him a rather long time to return back home and he had not planned on the voyage back being this soon. He eventually found himself in one of the inns. England took one of the stools by the bar. The bartender gazed up, cleaning rag in hand. He had just been polishing the counter top. Arthur made sure to order a strong liquor. The pint was soon slid down to him and he took a long swig of it, finishing it all in one go. After this, the drinks kept coming and he downed every one in nearly a minute.

"Hey James. What's up?" America asked as he entered the inn.

The bartender waved at him as he came in, smiling brightly. "Good to see you, Alfred. What can I get you?" he asked.

"The usual," the blonde replied with a light smile as he took a seat at one of the stools.

Someone sat beside him, head resting against the table so that America could not see his face. The jacket to a suit sat discarded on the stool next to him and his tie could be seen hanging from his neck, dangling in the air as he leaned over. Hearing a person slide into the seat next to him, the man turned his head to let his green eyes befall the blurry image of a person. Alfred looked at the man and instantly realized who it was. "Iggy?" he questioned, wide eyed.

"E-ello, America," Arthur greeted as he sat up, head lulling back as he did so.

"How many drinks have you had, dude?"

"None of your business," he said with a drunken slur. England reached for the glass in front of him before bringing it to his lips and finishing it off.

"Slow down!"

Iggy opened his mouth to say something, leaning forward as he did. It seemed as if his head was too heavy though because it soon came crashing down against the counter top. His fingers scratched against the wood as if he were asking for another glass. Sluggishly, he lifted his head up again as he turned to face America. "I'll want to as much as I drink," he answered, slamming a fist onto the counter. "You...you can't control me. I'm your older brother."

"I think your done for the night," James muttered as he handed Alfred his own glass of beer. Before America had time to react though, England had grabbed the glass and let the liquid slip down his gullet.

"Listen to me!" he shouted pointing a finger at the bartender before turning it to America. "You...listen to me...I...I love my little brother...no..wait..."

"I think your done for the night," Alfred said as he stood up and prepared to grab England.

As he moved forward to help carry him home, Arthur lashed out, arms waving insanely as he tried to keep America away from him. He kept shouting for him to listen in between shouted sobs of different things about their history and part from their fight earlier. Not wanting to fight with him anymore, Alfred bent down and slung England over his back like a sac of flour. Frantically, Arthur tried to get down, but the young blonde had already stood up. Tossing the payment for their alcohol on the bar top, Alfred left with a slight wave.

Once back at his home, America moved to set Arthur down on his couch. He slid him off his back the same way he had picked him up. England had stopped fighting on the way there, but he was ready to start again. As Alfred moved to stand up, he grabbed onto his tie and the collar of his shirt. With a bizarre amount of force, he pulled down, forcing Alfred to land on top of him awkwardly. The young man's head was to the right of the Englishman's with his torso laying on top of the other's. His arm had wrapped around the back of the couch in attempt to stop him from falling and his legs were at an angle in which he would have to turn them in an odd position to even touch the floor. Pushing up against England, America went to stand, but found that his collar had been grabbed again and his legs were now trapped by another pair. "Would you just bloody listen to me?" Iggy said, drunken slur still thick. His eyebrows wiggled up and down, enough so that they really looked like caterpillars. "I...I love you...you bloody git..."

Slipping his legs out from Arthur's and grabbing his wrist hard enough that he winced and let go, Alfred sat up. "W-what?" he stuttered, unsure how to respond.

"I'm...in love with you..."

Sputtering still, the young blonde jolted to his feet and took a few steps away from England. "Stop it, man...you're just drunk..."

Not answering, Arthur rolled over on the couch so that his face was turned away from his friend's. He curled up some, legs pulling up to be close to his torso, arms close to his face, but still off to the side. His eyes had shut and he let out a happy heavy breath. Sighing, Alfred took off the jacket of his suit and draped it over England before blowing out the lamps that were still burning. He wondered off into his own room before flopping down on his bed to go to sleep.

The bright morning sunlight seeped in through the windows, falling on the past out England's face, right between his eyes. He opened them slowly before instantly pulling the covering he had over his head. The sunlight was ten times brighter than it should have been and that mere second he saw it had already made his head begin to feel like it split. "Turn the sun off," he groaned.

A noise came from the other room as Alfred slid off his covers. He entered the room, scratching his scalp. "What is it?" he asked with a yawn.

"Alfred," Arthur asked as he peeked out from behind the jacket, trying to keep the sun out of his eyes still. "Don't talk so loud, but answer this...where am I?"

"You're at my house," Alfred replied, stating the obvious. "You were drunk off your ass last night." He laughed, a certain nervousness hidden behind it.

Letting the jacket fall from his head, England looked down at it. He blinked a few times before putting up a hand to block out the sun. Noticing his friend's discomfort, Alfred pulled his curtains shut. Arthur thanked him before setting the jacket to the side and standing up. "Well, I can't say that this has been my best visit, but I'll be leaving this afternoon," he announced, not wanting any other night to end up with him as hungover as he was.

"That's all you have to say?" America asked, seeming hurt somehow.

"Yes...I didn't plan on staying long and I would rather not repeat last night..."

"Why do you keep doing this?"

"Doing what?" England asked, snapping only because America had raised his voice.

Starting to huff, Alfred clenched his fists. "You always leave early! Don't I mean anything to you?" he shouted.

Wincing at the pain the intensified shouting caused, England shook his head. He set a hand to each temple. "You're my little brother, of course you mean something to me, Alfred, just please, don't shout."

"No! If I don't shout, you won't listen! You keep treating me like I'm a kid and I'm not. I don't want to be your kid brother!"

"The day we met you didn't seem so upset about it."

"I want my independence from you! I don't want to be your kid brother! I want you to respect me like a man! Hell, you won't even tell me how you really feel about me unless you don't know what your saying!"

"You already know how I feel about you. I care about you very much."

Alfred vigorously shook his head as if to say that wasn't good enough. Tears beaded in his eyes as he tried to overcome his frustration and confusion. His fists clenched harder until he put tiny bleeding crescents into his palms. "I love you, Arthur!" he shouted, eyes closed.

In return, Arthur paused, frozen to his spot. His head was throbbing and felt as if it was going to explode, but he had listened to every single word that Alfred has said. The last part made him wonder if he had more of a hungover than he thought. "E-excuse me, Alfred?" England asked.

"Get out," America growled, taking a threatening step toward England. "I won't be Al or Alfred or your little brother any more. Consider this my declaration of my independence. I am America."

Both of them paused as pain struck England. His green eyes and expression reflection that those words had hit him like a slap to the face. He headed for the door with a slight nod. "All right, America. I just want you to know, that I won't allow this," he said, keeping the quiver from his voice.

"Then let there be war," Alfred answered as the door opened.

"Farewell," Arthur replied, slamming the door behind him. "I love you too..."

Author's Notes:

I hope I didn't bore anyone with my mini history lesson at the beginning. I just wanted to set the mood for the story so that you could see how strained Alfred and Arthur were becoming in their relationship. This was supposed to be another angst and I'm pretty sure I did a great job at it this time. If you disagree, a drunk England was in this one so I'm sure you enjoyed it regardless because everyone loves a drunken Iggy. Not to mention he wiggled his eyebrows, which is probably the funniest thing he could ever do.

((I would like to dedicate this one to a friend of mine who has recently become interested in Hetalia. I promised her a UsuK fic and here it is. I hope she likes it. :3))