A/N: My first APH fic – country names are used. I would really appreciate some constructive criticism or just some nice reviews, pwease?

"Out." England glared at France, arms crossed, "if I deserve one thing, it's a good night's sleep. With you in my bed, that's not going to happen."

No, wait, the last sentence had come out wrong. England knew it as soon as he said it. What he had meant was that, after a long day of taking care of little America, he did not have to deal with a half-naked Frenchman in his bed. But, France was smiling that smile. The one that England hated.

He had just been startled – that was all. He had thought that he was by himself in the room. After all, wasn't France supposed to be off exploring the north or something; finding himself his own little brother to raise? What was he doing here? And why now, when England was exhausted from running after a rambunctious child all day? He couldn't put up a fight like this.

Actually, come to think of it, that last sentence sounded relatively wrong too. Or, at least, France would have turned it dirty, had he said it out loud. Why would he have to be fighting France? No, he didn't even have to touch him, all England should have to do was ask politely and France would leave, right? Right.

"What I meant," England began again, ignoring France's raised eyebrows, "is that you will probably take all the covers or talk to me when I'm just about to fall completely asleep or something. Now, go!" England really wanted to lose his temper: it was just too fun to yell at France. But, he was too tired to do anything but raise his voice slightly.

"Why should I?" France smirked, "I happen to be very comfortable right." He rolled over on the bed, "here." he put emphasis on the last word and sent England a wink. "And, you do look tired – you should join me: I'm sure you would be very comfortable too."

England sighed: it was far too late for him to have to deal with this.

"Look. Just. Dammit!" England put his face in his hands, exasperated. "please! Why can't you leave me alone?" He hadn't wanted to be violent – ok, maybe he had, before he had just been too tired to be hurtful – but now, now…

France put his hands under his chin, amused, "are you sure you want me to leave you alone? Because I am sure that you don't. In fact, I am sure that you want me to stay right here and…"

Whatever France was going to do and whatever sort of violent rage England was going to be flung into was ceased, as the door creaked. Both of them stared at it as it inched opened and a little figured sleepily walked it.

"England?" A tussled blond head walked into England's legs, "can I sleep with you and France, I'm scared."

Slowly, England picked up the half-asleep America. Like he could turn that little boy down, "sure." England said softly, "I'll keep you safe."

"And France too?" America questioned.

For a fleeting moment, France smirked. He knew that he had won: England would never make him leave now, not with his sweet little baby requesting specifically for France to stay. Still, England couldn't help but shoot France back a look that clearly informed him what was and was not going to happen that night – or any.

"Of course." England laid America down and then got into bed himself.

As he turned off the light, France whispered, "so I guess-"

"Shut up." Was England's coarse cut-off.

"Well-" France tried again.

"No!"

Silence fell. Just as he was about to fall asleep however, he heard France whisper again.

"We make a good family, don't we?"

It must have been a cute picture - England would have admitted later - the sight of all three of them curled up together in England's bed. The sight of little America – his thumb in his mouth, snuggled between his "parents." It must have looked adorable. And, England had to admit that he got a very good night's sleep.

But, he would never admit that to France. Never.