Pffft! I know I just put out a new story, and I have another one after this I'm gonna put out, but I'm finally getting the muse to write these stories. XD So here they are! Hopefully in the future I'll balance them out a bit with a schedule. Hope you enjoy!

Arthur's POV

I let out a groan as I sat up from my far too comfortable position in my bed. Slowly, I made my way out from under all the blankets and sheets. I only hastened in removing myself from my warm, inviting bed when I heard another yelp from the room across the hall. It took around under a minute for me to smoothly sneak my way out of my sleeping chamber down to Alfred's. Silently, I crept across the wooden floor, knowing well where the creaky spots were and avoiding them with ease. I cracked open Alfred's door and peeked my head around the white painted wooden door just in time to see him thrash forcefully as if he were trying to stop a murderer from slitting his throat. It was another nightmare for sure.

When the younger nation had arrived to stay at my place, I had been unaware that he even had these… night terrors that resulted in him flailing about and sometimes even causing a bloodcurdling scream to rip from his throat. It'd been quite startling the first time and I wished I'd been warned ahead of time, but when I asked about them Alfred had no recollection of them whatsoever and completely denied that a hero like him could be so easily scared by a stupid dream.

Of course, having the feelings for him I do, I've been quite concerned. I can never seem to fully wake him up enough until he's already calmed down, mostly with my help, and the nightmare has seemingly ceased. That's not really the reason I'm so worried… Let me explain. He's been here for far longer than we originally planned for him to stay with me. A tree fell on his house during a hurricane and he came to stay with me until it was repaired. It's been long restored now. But I asked- no… I practically begged him to stay here so I could be around if he needed me. These dreams that he's had have seemed to taken a serious toll on his health. He refuses to believe it when I tell him he looks sleep deprived. And when I comment on how unusually quiet he's been lately and mention the night terrors he tries his hardest to perk up. Coffee, Soft drinks, those highly caffeinated energy drinks… Anything with enough caffeine to boost his energy enough to stay awake during the day… He drinks far too much to be healthy. And that concerns me too. These nightmares appear to be torturing him through not getting sufficient sleep to function correctly.

Carefully, I approach the bed where he's tossing and turning, throwing punches and kicks. I don't want to me hit myself as I would most certainly suffer some sort of bruise or minor injury from his brute strength.

"Alfred," I say softly, avoiding making my voice too loud, but not quite a whisper. For whatever reason Alfred hasn't responded well to my whispering while I'm trying to calm him. I reach out a cautious hand, but quickly retract it as I notice something I hadn't before. Even in the dim lighting, enough moonlight has entered the room through the broad, yet still curtained window to gleam off of a wetness on his face. Tears. He's crying. I reach out again, and this time I gently caress his face. He's cried a lot. Feeling my touch, he doesn't react violently but I reckon it's something he's grown used to by now, even in his sleep.

"Alfred, darling. It's Arthur. You're okay," I say in that soft, calming tone. I know if he can hear me, he can't understand me… At least not very well. But hearing my voice has in the past nights looked to be soothing to him. I continue talking to him, telling him he's safe. No-one's going to harm him and I have him. I'll protect him. Anything of the like, and eventually when he's calm enough I decide to crawl into bed next to him. I've done this many nights in a row now. He has yet to tell me to stop doing this, or object to it in any way. Really though, in the mornings, like I said, he has no memory of the previous nights. He's so sleep deprived now, he'll often wake up with me still in the bed with him and won't realize I was there for a majority of the night or even question my motives.

He's not facing me now, so I press my hands against his back, which is pretty nicely toned and at this point, very tense. I'm rubbing in little circles across his back, to his shoulders and- he's turning around. Alfred lies on his back now, his expression looking pretty distressed, face still damp with tears.

"Alfred, dear," I say, repeating his name and some of the same phrases over again. His expression softens up and is now more peaceful than before. Has the dream ended? I, still lying on my side, drape my arm over his chest and just hold him. My face is so close to his right now. It's hard resisting the urge to result to kissing that handsome face to calm him.

It's been a while since he's stirred too much. So I suppose he's finished for tonight. Good night, Alfred. I'll find a way to stop these nightmares. It's hard seeing you in such distress.

Also, just so you know, this is one of those three-in-the-morning stories. Don't kill me for all the typos/grammatical, spelling errors and whatever. XD