Alfred looked around at the overly-decorated walls belonging to England's home, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized them and eventually came to stop at the bold colors of the British flag. Turning to face it, he placed his hands on his hips and stood there until Arthur, who had previously been doing the dishes, meandered back out with a cup of tea in hand and found him.

When America noticed that he was being watched, he looked over his shoulder and pointed at the flag in front of him. "Art, it has too much blue."

Arthur's brow twitched. "You stupid git, I swear I did not raise you to be so rude! And for your information, it stands for a lot of important qualities! In our proud flag, the blue stands for justice and perseverance, as well as truth, loyalty, and our ability to remain vigilant at all times. Red is for our strength and our bravery, and as for the whi-… are you listening?"

Alfred had begun to tune him out and instead was wandering down the hall and inspecting another older version of the same flag. Tilting his head, he then shook it in discouragement. "All of these look stupid. Too much blue, not enough red. All the red is being blocked by these annoying, fat white lines!"

"What the hell do you know, idiot? That's the Scottish flag right there- no, not that one-…" Arthur waved a hand in front of America's face and redirected him to one to his right. "This one. And next to it is the English version that was flown during the same time period; from 1606 to 1707, these two flags were the ones most often seen, though of course it was far less likely to see the Scots' version… bunch of wankers, that lot."

Taking a sip from his tea, Arthur closed his eyes and began to gesture back towards the Union flag proudly. "But our flag now is much more significant and beautiful. We combined the crosses of Saint George, Saint Patrick, and Saint Andrew to form it… huh?"

England reopened his eyes to find that America was no longer with him yet again and instead had found more interest in heading towards the kitchen to look for food. "H-hey! HEY! I was still talking to you, you brainless-… ugh! Get back here, Alfred!"

Alfred didn't even seem to notice the other until a smaller figure popped up in his vision, backing him into the nearby wall and pinning him to it. Narrow jade hues burned into him, reflecting the famed power that backed the once- and many could still attest it was still as such- powerful and dominating nation.

"Now you listen here… I do not ever recall bringing you up to be so dismissive and ignorant, and no way am I going to just let you get away with it! You're going to start paying more attention when someone is talking to you, do you understand?" A hand fisted itself around America's tie and yanked on it, bringing him abruptly down to eye-level with those dangerous eyes. Alfred could only blink and stare back, his body unsure of how to react to the nation holding him prisoner in such a… compromising position. Sometimes he had to wonder if Arthur exactly was aware of the things he was putting himself into.

Arthur's throat rumbled in the form of a growl, his grip tightening around the article of clothing he now held. "I asked you a question, America… answer me."

Alfred's brows knit before a sort of smirk played across his face, placing his hands warmly upon the other's shoulders as he drew him in to place a kiss snugly upon Arthur's lips, shocking the older nation into recoiling backwards. "You got it. It's pretty hard to not pay attention to you when you're making those sorts of expressions… makes me want to-"

"N-no! Stop there, we are NOT going to discuss those sorts of… of… vulgar topics! I can't believe you, you stupid…!" England sputtered and backed up a bit, waving one hand rapidly in front of him as if to try and ward off any more of America's surprise advances. He couldn't believe how quickly this person he had spent so long nurturing and raising had grown up into someone he could hardly keep his cool around.

The way Alfred only smiled back at him made him feel like he was going crazy, breaking away fully before turning and stomping off down the hall, cheeks redder as he rubbed at his lips in a self-conscious manner. One of these days, he was going to get back at America for all the things he did to him… that was, if he could ever find a way to hold the nation's attention in a way that didn't involve bringing an overwhelming sense of humiliation to himself.