England, a bit OC I believe, sorry for that. Just how I think he'd act through all this xD;; This is merely a fanfic I did for a friend so the ending is a bit rushed. There will probably be other pairings once this is worked on, too, a bit of Spamano and RusAme.

The ticking – the ticking was about to drive the man to insanity. Other than the clock, it was dead – neither dared talking nor was there even glance to the other sitting in front of them, the atmosphere filled with nothing but suffocating tension. Soon, tanned fingers ran along the glass held tightly between his hands, causing a startling squeaking sound to ring out, sounding like someone had just shot a canon to how loud it appeared. His fingers instantly stopped after that – the clock on a solo once again. Not only was the clock getting to him, but so was the reason he was sitting on some oddly printed chair – that had to be the least comfortable one there – in the one house he never wished to enter alone. The only reason he ever agreed to accepting the suspicious invitation was because he was sure the loudmouthed American would be roaming around the house of this mans. Apparently he had to speak to him about something important as well.

It had to have been hours that have passed by; his prediction shot down when finally pulling his head up from the unappealing tea and eyes shifting to the clock. The hands only told him a mere twenty minutes have passed since he had first sat down with the cup of tea. Was this some sort of trap? Or an attempt to tear down his nation's economy and ruin him? All of the unknowns were causing paranoia, slowly starting to eat at him. When would he start talking? Surely he knew that if he let words spill out first what his question would be, so why not just explain things to him now?

"Remember our pirate days?"

The sudden speech startled him, small drops of tea jumping out the side of the cup. Not only was it a start, the question he asked – it was a shock. The man was slouched over, once staring at the clock; his green eyes soon abruptly looked to the male across the table. He searched his face for some sort of reasoning for that, any type of feeling, instead he was met with a male – sitting in the chair with his back straightened and legs crossed, holding a plate on his knee with one hand and a cup of his own tea with the other, his own green eyes staring blankly ahead, almost as though he was staring at an empty chair rather than another person – one of which he had invited to his home.

The pirate days – how could he forget such a time that was? – out on the seas for months, searching the world in hopes of exploring new lands, along with the occasion of bumping into unwanted company. Of course that company was nonetheless that man – staring at him with such a deadened expression. He would often have to return home early, having been beaten so badly he could not even think of moving on forwards, not only that, he was often taken – only horrors happened then. He had scars and memories to prove of told scenes, not that he would ever want to relive those times. They were all just a part of his history.

Choking back a stuttering breath, his brows furrowed together, grip tightening on the cup. "Si," He grumbled, "What of it?" What the hell was he thinking, what was passing through that mind of his?
The blond-haired man leaned forwards, carefully placing the plate – along with the cup, down onto the wooden table top before sitting back up, placing his hands over each other on his lap, giving that dead stare once more – staring long and hard. "Weren't those days something?" Lips slowly curled up into a smug and concerning smile, an odd gleam in his eyes.

Shit.

Something was clearly planned now, the invitation was of no importance, and it was just an act to get him into that house alone with the blond man. Grinding his teeth harshly, his eyes narrowed down, his face grim and dreading what was to come rather than his normal carefree and careless appearance. The Spanish mans breath deliberately gained haste, keeping it reserved. He could not show panic or unease, he was capable of enduring whatever was thrown at him – breaking down would not be an option.

"They were, weren't they? I did quite enjoy seeing you fail…as well as seeing you beneath me." The smile was ever-growing now, and soon it would evolve into a grin of something sadistic.

No longer could he stand this already, standing with force, a hand gripping the handle of the tea cup soon thrust forwards, letting the cup loose and flying to the British man, instantly turning once it was released, making an endeavor in escape. It was unforeseen that the other would forget his tea distraction and go for the leaving man instead. A hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling back so he would twist around, his ankle pivoting his body around got caught against a jut in the rugs side, falling to the ground onto his back, head snapping back and slamming against the wooden floor.

The tan man gasped, a loss of breath and eyes fluttering quickly, trying to regain his senses. There was a loud rushing in his ears until everything came back together leaving a sharp pain in the back of his head behind.

It was all over.

"Oh dear," He murmured with a slight hint of sarcastic concern for the other. "You must try to be more careful." The man knelt down besides the Spaniard – currently trying to catch his breath. Picking up a leg, he placed it on the other side of the other and straddled down on him, a hand going to his head, suddenly gripping his hair tightly and yanking the head back, getting a small gasp in return. "You know, I've been thinking – thinking about those wonderful days, and then I found myself wanting. You want to know what I have been wanting lately. You, I have been wanting you."

"Mierda," He gasped, gritting his teeth.

"Yes, yes, it must be a nightmare for you. Poor, poor, unfortunate Antonio," He crooned, releasing his grip and running his hand across the messy brown hair. "But listen, we speak English in my house, abide to that rule." He sighed, the hand running to his cheek and patting it lightly before raising it back and smacking across his cheek brutally.

Antonio hissed, his head turning to the side an inch. "What are you planning? To treat me like how you did back then? You are going to put me through hell again?"

Putting a hand on his chest and resting it there, Arthur leaned back – seeming to be thinking. "You're Spain – where the sun never sets." A small smile returned to his lips. "I'm afraid there will be no passion in this however."

He knew where this was going – he would never grow the slightest bit fond of this either.

The Britain's hand grasped onto the wrists of the other, holding them to the floor as he hovered over him with a horrible grin peering down at him. His face preceded down to the others face and his lips soon found the others, pressing against them forcibly while continuing to hold down the now struggling arms. The other was unwilling and refusing the joining of their lips, trying to helplessly get his face away from his. Frowning, planning to use his annoying struggling as a reason for this to happening, his teeth grazed the lower portion of his lip, quickly biting down before the lip could slip from his grasp and broke through the skin, drawing out blood, the others head breaking off to the side then to make sure he was away from the lips before looking to him in plain astonishment. Blood slowly trickled down his chin, wrists still pinned down, unable to wipe it away – and the British man had to admit that he enjoyed this look the other gave to him, especially with the added blood. He licked over his lips, the grin reappearing on his face before stating, "Maybe you shouldn't be squirming around so badly. Then there wouldn't have to be any blood." Releasing one wrist, his thumb ran over the slim trail, smearing the red across his chin.

Green eyes glaring up at the other, the expression lacking in his face was clearly being shown on the inside – he had released his wrist and that arm was now free to move in whatever way he wanted it to. Not showing any movement for a second to avoid any suspicion – his hand soon curled into a fist and lashed out towards the cheek of the blond, being much too late before the other noticed to even move out of the way, his knuckles slammed into the side of his face. The other doubling off to the side, he used this chance to free himself, twisting his hips around to roll away to his back while yanking at his still trapped left arm, soon finding this was all just a grim idea. He was successful in getting to his stomach – a position in which he could easily push himself up, however, the man dressed too formally for a wrestling match such as this recovered much faster than he had expected, tightening his grip on his wrist and twisted his arm as he rolled, holding it behind his back. Gritting his teeth, his fingers desperately curled and uncurled as he tried to get a grip on the short carpet. The other straddled over him again, his grin had faded, and his fingers ran through his hair on the back of his head, gripping the dark strands tightly and pressed down – getting his face smothered by the floor for a second, managing to move so only his forehead was receiving the majority of the pressure, spitting out the blood that decided to travel back up to his mouth from the spot he was in now.

"That was a naughty thing to do." Arthur curled his fingers around his hair more, tugging sharply at some strands, threatening to tear out that portion of hair – getting a hiss from the other. "I was actually thinking, 'You know, if he behaves for just a short time, I'll let him off early.' But I can see that was a mistake. It's hilarious that I would actually think of such a thing!" Chuckling softly to himself, he bent over, nails digging into his wrist. His lips brushed lightly against his ear – Antonio shuddered from the sudden light breathing on his skin, fidgeting just slightly, that earning his forehead pushed down more against the rough carpet. "Uh-uh. Just sit still, will you?" He nipped harshly at the tip of his ear. "How about I make you sink again?" He whispered in his ear, the others eyes widening, huffing out a sigh as he shivered again from the voice being so quiet but so close to his ear.

The Spaniard would never think of submitting to this man – he never had and never planned on doing so. Yet this bastard thought he could capture him again – this wasn't the sea anymore, he couldn't just be taken hostage like back then. It pissed him off. It was a true thing that he was pushing him over the edge, he wasn't quite sure how much more of this nonsense he could take. He didn't bother in struggling around anymore; it had proved that doing something like that would just get more punishment thrown his way. Not able to do a thing – he might as well be submitting himself, and all he could do was mumble out a 'mierda' again under his breath.

Before anything could be taken much farther, the door to enter the home suddenly slammed open and loud steps came across the hardwood floor – the person obviously not bothering in being the least bit stealthy. It was rather obvious who it would be. Arthur's motive immediately changed. "Until next time, Spaniard," He mused, climbing off the male and brushing the invisible dirt off himself, straightening his clothing before standing over the other as though he had tripped.

Next time – that amused him, he would never think of accepting an invitation to discuss something of 'importance' again. The one that of course saved his ass for now was the American that soon barged in. He wasn't too fond of this newcomer either, but he gave the man his silent thanks, pushing himself off the floor and standing, frowning and wincing as he moved his arm that was held behind his back to the normal position, as well as wiping his chin off, trying to clear it of the blood.

"Alfred." His voice sounded surprised, a nice act for someone who had been acting so devilish, yet there was that lace of annoyance. "Have you still not heard of knocking? I thought you were with Ivan today?"

The other shrugged, too busy slurping at the straw jutting out from the oversized cup. It took him some time before the other even paused to speak. "I didn't know Antonio was here." He had utterly ignored the question the Britain asked, obviously thinking the questions were of no importance.

"I was just leaving actually." The Spanish man pushed his way past the two, adjusting his clothing as he went, his cheerful personality not finding the surface yet even though he was free. 'Until next time' – those words haunted his mind, would there be no escape from the seemingly bipolar man? Sighing, he ran his hands down his face, fingers slightly brushing over his forehead, frowning when he felt the imprints – it was either just a slight imprint or a burn that would stick around for who knows how long, it was annoying. However, there was home, and that's where he could find a safe place, and not only that, Lovino had a good chance of being around. The other wouldn't bother traveling to his country – he thought.