Alfred's hand reached up and brushed a blonde lock away from the handsome face in front of him. Soft gentle snores slipped through Arthur's slightly opened mouth, faintly turned upward in a smile. Alfred took a breath and lay back careful not to disturb his bedmate.
The night before was a blur; shots, dancing, more shots, a kiss, another shot and then a cab. That was all he could recall. He had woken up next to Arthur with his shirt on the floor and his boxers slightly pulled down. Arthur's vest and shirt lay by the door and his pants by the foot of the four poster bed. His green boxers remained in their proper place. Who's to know they might have been moved, or not. Alfred wasn't sure what happened. If it was more so he wishing it had happened or it actually did.
Arthur's brow creased and he frowned. Alfred looked over to see the blonde shift and then frown again. He seemed to be upset but his chest's movements said he was still in a deep slumber. Not thinking much of it Alfred stood up and walked over to the mirror. He noted a slight limp from his left leg. It felt stiff, like from being sat on for too long. He couldn't imagine how he would have gotten it.
"Don't go!" Arthur cried out. Alfred turned on a dime and was by the blonde in an instant. Arthur's eyes remained closed but his arms were reaching upward as if to pull something closer. "Please, I can't be alone." He whispered. Alfred had no idea if the Englishman was talking to him or dreaming but he knelt by his bed side and listened. "I can't lose you. You were my little brother. Why do you want to hurt me?" Alfred realized that it was the conversation they had when he brought up being independent. "I don't hate you, how could I?" Arthur said, barely above a whisper. Alfred knew this was the part he had turned around and walked out the door. "I love you." Arthur whispered and started sobbing. Alfred looked away, trying to hold back tears.
He had to leave, didn't Arthur understand? He only saw him as a little brother. Alfred no longer wanted that. Arthur started choking on his sobs, while his eyes were stilled closed and his breathing was deep and ridged. Alfred patted his old friend on the back and tried to sit him up. Fluttering eye lids covered in tears looked up into the Americans eyes.
Arthur pushed the American's hands away and sat himself up. The both stared into each other's eye trading silent words. Arthur stood up, collecting his shirt and pants then walked to the door. His nimble fingers quickly went across the buttons, sealing the wrinkled white shirt. He sighed and looked up into his once little brother. America's eyes held the same pain they did that night so many years ago. Arthur still didn't know why he walked out on him.
Alfred took a few steps to Arthur as he slipped his pants on. Arthur looked up after he zipped his pants up and he was greeted by bright blue eyes. Eyes he never knew held so much passion and pain all at once. Alfred swiftly pressed his lips against Arthurs and put his arms either side of his head. Arthur was so surprised he didn't have enough time to react before Alfred's fingers were unbuttoning his shirt he just buttoned. Soon the shirt was on the ground and the Americans hand had begun on the pants. Arthur had started to kiss back and was being pressed, hard, into the wall. Before Alfred pulled down the Englishman's pants he looked into his eyes. Arthur finally realized why Alfred fought against him all those years ago. He knew that he never really left him, he was always here; even closer than before.