Alfred lay on his stomach, propped up on his elbows as he watched the movie from the comfort of his dark bedroom. Well, he was trying to watch the movie, anyhow. His phone had been ringing non-stop for over an hour and Alfred was beginning to get irritated. Couldn't Arthur just leave him alone? Sure, he knew he should have answered the first call but to call ten times over something as tedious as a forgotten book which Arthur had left the last time he had visited?( Alfred didn't actually know that was the Brit was calling, but it was a sound enough assumption). It was stupid and Alfred really couldn't be bothered to listen to a lecture over how "incompetent" he was and how much of an "idiotic prat" he could be. And anyway, Arthur was most definitely in the wrong and deserved to be ignored so he switched his phone to vibrate and continued watching The Amazing Spiderman. Despite his overwhelming love for the movie, he still couldn't help but glance at his phone every time it rang.

He rolled his eyes; why did Arthur have to be so damn persistent? He kept the film playing and grabbed his phone.

"Hello?" Much to Alfred surprise, Arthur didn't start yelling at him right away. "Arthur?"

"Alfred," Arthur's voice was slower than usual and slightly slurred. Was he drunk? "Alfred, have you been ignoring me?"

"Nope," Alfred lied, holding his phone closer to his ear as he positioned himself so he was lying on his back, his head resting on his pillows. "I didn't see you calling until just now."

"Silly Alfred," Arthur said, making him certain that he was inebriated as he definitely would have yelled by then, "silly, gorgeous Alfred."

Well, that was different. "Arthur, did you hit your head again?"

"What?" He sounded frustrated and Alfred could just see him doing that thing where he would pinch his nose and squint when he was annoyed. "No, I didn't. I'm fine. Not hurt. Just warm and alone and-"

"-Drunk?" Alfred rolled his eyes and glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It was only half ten and the Brit sounded completely out of it. "Look Arthur, buddy, do yourself a favour and go to sleep."

"It's only a little bit," he slurred, "but that's good, me being drunk. It meant that I could finally call you and tell you."

"Tell me what, Arthur?" Alfred looked longingly at the TV, wishing he would just hurry up, yell at him and go to bed so he could continue watching his movie.

"Tell you about all of the things I want to do to you." Arthur's voice was still slurred, but now it was silky too. Alfred didn't know what to say. He thought Arthur was messing with him, that he just wanted to get a reaction from the American and then he'd tell everyone how he'd finally pranked him. Well. he wouldn't let that happen. No siree.

"Dude, this isn't funny," Alfred said. His hand was tightly gripping the phone and his eyes were now fixed on the ceiling, rather than the television.

"I'm not trying to be, damn it. For God's sake, will you just listen?" Now that, Alfred thought, sounded more like the man he knew. "Alfred, I've been having these feelings for a long time. Feelings for you and they're quite personal and not very ah…appropriate."

Alfred gasped quietly and involuntarily. He knew that Arthur couldn't possibly be saying what he thought the man was saying, so what was he on about?

He sat up and stopped his movie; it was too much of a distraction. He wanted to hear every word that came from the older man's was just so confused. "What do you mean by 'not appropriate'? I don't understand."

"You must be able to see how wondrously gorgeous you are, Alfred." Alfred didn't say anything, he couldn't. He was too shocked for words (which was a rarity). What was going on? "You must be able to see it surely, Alfred?"

He didn't know why, but it was making him shiver whenever the Brit said his name. Arthur's voice managed to make it sexy and sultry. Alfred wanted him to say it again. "I-I guess so." He was stuttering now. What was Arthur doing to him? "I mean, I know I'm quite good looking."

"Mmm," England was quiet for a while and America wondered whether the Brit had fallen asleep on him. He hoped he hadn't.

"What are you wearing?" Arthur whispered. Alfred's first thought was of how terribly cliché and utterly cringy that question was. He then thought about how much courage this required for Arthur and found himself in slight awe of the man. Would he have ever done this if he wasn't drunk?

"Uhm, just a shirt and some boxers. That's it."

"Tight boxers?"

"I guess so," Alfred said, glancing at them. He was surprised to see a bulge beginning to form in his pants. That was quick.

"And where are you?"

"In my bed." Alfred was whispering now. It felt as though Arthur was right there, in the room, with him and that was enough to make him shiver in anticipation.

"That's perfect," Arthur said, sighing a little, "just perfect. Do you want to know what I'd do if I were there?"

Alfred gasped again. This was really happening. The guy he'd been crushing on for years was calling him and basically admitting to liking him too. He was glad he'd answered the phone, after all. "Yeah," he said, "yeah, I want to know. What would you do?"

"I'd take that shirt of yours off, first," Arthur said, "and then I'd kiss you. I'd kiss your neck, your shoulders, everywhere."

He didn't know for sure, but he thought that Arthur was teasing him. God, he was such a virgin. "Then what would you do?"

"I'd remove your boxers," he murmured, "and then I'd fuck you."

"You-you would?" Alfred felt breathless. God, he wanted it so bad. He could feel his erection rubbing the fabric of his boxers.

"Yes. I'd fuck you right into the mattress, make you scream, make you moan. I imagine you'd be loud, Alfred, you usually are. You'd be loud when I'm giving it to you, making you feel good." Arthur paused and America heard him make a weird noise, as though he were biting back a moan. He imagined Arthur lying on his bed, naked, thinking of America and America's boxers tightened even more. "Would you like that, Alfred?"

"Fuck yes. God, Arthur I-"

"Is it getting a bit tight down there?" teased Arthur; his voice sounded husky as Alfred lay in the darkness.

"No," he whimpered, "it's fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked and Alfred could just see Arthur's sexy smirk as he cradled the phone to his ear and whispered dirty things to Alfred. "The whimpers and gasps would suggest otherwise. It's okay. I am too."

He allowed himself to release a little moan, blushing in embarrassment despite no one being there. "I want you here, now." Alfred winced a little. He sounded desperate. He was.

"I will be. Soon," Arthur murmured, "and then I'll take you so hard, you won't be able to walk the next day."

He moaned. That shouldn't have been sexy, but it was. His boner was starting to become uncomfortable now. He wanted to touch it so badly, but he didn't want Arthur to know.

"Does that sound good to you, luv?" Arthur's voice had gone shaky and breathy.

"God yeah, Arthur. Yeah, it sounds good." Alfred couldn't leave it any longer. He tugged his boxers down, wrapped a hand around his cock, closed his eyes and listened to Arthur's voice as he began to pump his stiff cock.

He could barely stifle his moans as Arthur continued talking. "Are you thinking of me, right now, as you touch yourself?" Alfred felt his cheeks turn red; he'd tried to be quiet. "Because I'm thinking of you, of all the things we'll do when we're together."

"Yeah…" he moaned, "yeah, I'm thinking about it."

"Do you want me, Alfred?" Arthur asked, his voice was quieter and suspiciously breathy.

"Yeah…." he whined. He did want him. He'd wanted him for so long and he hadn't even known it. Alfred pictured Arthur in his head. He saw Arthur's wiry body which just seemed to be carved into perfection, all angles and edges. He thought of Arthur's smile, so small, soft and gentle. He pictured Arthur's eyes, dark and dangerous. It was all a mismatch. Arthur was a mismatch, and Alfred loved it that way.

Alfred's body seized up and he felt the pleasure wash over him. For a moment, he felt like he was boundless or limitless, something which had never happened before. Maybe it was because he'd finally admitted his attraction to Arthur, maybe that was why he suddenly felt so fee. He moaned the Brit's name as he came.

Alfred sat in near silence, listening to the sound of Arthur's gasps and his own heavy breathing. About thirty seconds later, Arthur moaned loudly, calling Alfred's name. Alfred felt himself shiver and a small smile spread across his face. Arthur had wanted him just as badly and, honestly, that was such a nice feeling, to be wanted by the person you liked (loved?).

It turned quiet then and this worried Alfred immensely. What if Arthur played it off as some kind of one-time thing because he'd had a little bit too much to drink? Alfred would just have to pretend it didn't matter, but that kind of pretence, the kind he'd had to do for years after the Revolutionary War, it'd be torture.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked cautiously, not even sure whether Arthur had hung up or stopped listening.

"Hmm?"

"What happens now?"

"I…" Arthur sighed and Alfred could just picture him rubbing at his temples, the way he did when he was tired or exasperated, "I honestly don't know, Alfred. It's just all so complicated."

"Well," Alfred chewed at his lip nervously, "we could try something? If you wanted to that is."

Arthur sighed again, but this time it was a sigh of relief. "I want to."

Alfred smiled. He got up and turned off his television and then he climbed into his bed, pulling the blanket up to his chest. "Okay, so, here's what we're gonna do…"

A/N: Okay so I think I'll leave it there! That way the reader gets to decide what happened next. I'm not sure how I feel about this fic to be honest but I've been wanting to do some phone stuff for a while now. I'm hoping I'll get better at it as time passes.

Thanks for reading! :')

~BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter.