Arms were wrapped around his legs, pulling them up against his chest. He rested his cheek against his knees and let out a shaky sigh. Emerald green eyes glanced over at the clock. It was a quarter after one in the morning. Arthur was sitting in the corner of his couch, staring at the empty cushion next to him.

A strong feeling of loneliness washed over him, making him burrow deeper into that leather bomber jacket that Alfred had left at his house ages ago. By now it had to have been too small to fit the American. It wasn't as if Arthur had stolen it; he just never gave it back. Arthur wasn't drunk. Oh no, he was just tipsy. That's all. But that was just the alcohol speaking.

The same alcohol that had possessed him to take every single photo album he had and spread the photographs all over the floor in the living room. One could hardly see the floor. Every memory bombarded the old country, making him feel lightheaded for a moment. Or maybe that was the alcohol once again…

That same alcohol that had possessed him to pick up the phone and call Alfred in the middle of the night.

The phone rang for what seemed like an eternity. Arthur began to worry that Alfred didn't want to talk to him… Then… "Iggy! You never feel the need to bask in my awesome! What's up?"

England was silent as that chipper voice cut through his clouded thoughts. What was up? What exactly was he calling about?

"Hey? Iggy? Hell-o?" Alfred's voice sang out, enthusiasm radiated from the phone. If Arthur had been in the right mind, then he would have heard that enthusiasm laced with worry.

"Alfred…" The Englishman breathed out. Why wasn't Alfred here? Why wasn't he by Arthur's side like he should be?

"Arthur? What's wrong?" That bubbly voice turned into fear. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

"I need you."

Arthur shouldn't have called. It was ridiculous and stupid and weak of him to do such a thing. That, and once Alfred got here, he would just scold the Briton for getting drunk once again. But he wasn't drunk; he was just tipsy.

The soft melody of a piano played through the room. A CD was in his DVD player; the television screen alight with dancing colors. Why was Arthur always the pathetic one in their relationship? Maybe it was because Alfred always came to 'rescue his damsel in distress'. As Alfred had once told the Englishman, 'Just call and I'll come running.'

He should have known what he was getting into by saying that. Arthur was not a needy person. He was just… lonely. Loneliness and need were two completely separate things. Weren't they?

Green eyes looked away from the cushion to the door. That silly boy should come bursting through there any moment now…

As if on cue, there was a loud crash outside the door, the sound of the door unlocking, and a freezing breeze flooded in the room as said door was swung open. There stood Arthur's hero, eyes wide, glasses askew, breathing heavily as if he ran the whole way across the pond.

A small smile tugged at Arthur's mouth, but he didn't give into it.

"Arthur!" Alfred slammed the door shut and almost flung himself over to his lover, but stopped before he took one step. Azure blue eyes stared down at the floor. They looked over all the photographs, and then began to search for a safe route to travel to get to the lonesome figure on the couch.

Arthur couldn't pull his eyes away from the American. His heart felt as though it stopped beating in his chest as warmth rolled through his chilly body. This happened every time the boy burst through that door for Arthur. Which actually happened a lot, whether it was for something like this, or it was because Alfred wanted to take Arthur out.

The Briton's eyebrow rose as he watched Alfred slowly pick his way through the field of pictures. Since when has he ever taken his time and not rushed through things? This was definitely not the time to do that.

A good eight minutes later, Alfred plopped down onto the couch cushion Arthur had been staring at. Perfect.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" The American asked once again, taking Arthur by the shoulders. Why is the only thing Alfred does is talk? Arthur leaned all his weight forward, slipping between America's hands and colliding painfully against Alfred's chest. Good thing alcohol is like a painkiller.

"Oof," Alfred made a small noise as he fell back onto the couch, Arthur nuzzling his chest on top of him. Blue eyes scanned the man on top of him as he ran his fingers through that messy blonde hair. "Are you drunk?" The question was spoken softly as if he might spook the Englishman.

Arthur was prepared for this question. He had been repeating what he was going to say in his mind for hours now. No, I'm just tipsy. "Yes."

A soft sigh came from Alfred. Well, Arthur couldn't have lied anyways. The whiskey was sitting on the coffee table in plain sight. The American reached over to the bottle and took a swig. He hissed as it went down.

"Heeey," Arthur pouted at Alfred. That wasn't nice… He should have asked first! Alfred leaned up to nip lightly at that stuck out lower lip. Arthur squeaked as his eyes widened. "Hey!"

Alfred propped himself up on his elbows and took one more drink from the bottle. At that moment, Arthur snuck an open-mouthed kiss in. Taken by surprise, the American almost choked in the liquid that was still in his mouth, causing some of it to flow through the kiss into the Briton's mouth. Alfred quickly closed his mouth and pulled back. He blinked in an almost confused way at the Englishman.

"That was… kind of disgusting," He said, clearing his throat and putting the bottle back before something like that could happen again.

"I know," A giggle came from Arthur. "It was the first time I've done something like that! You know that's what couples do when they get married?"

"Only, they do it with cake… and on purpose." As Alfred spoke, a small grin was spreading across his face. Arthur was cute, if not whiney, when he was drunk.

"Oh. Right." The Briton's voice was quiet as he had a deflated look to him. Alfred panicked. It wasn't like he had crushed the Englishman's hopes and dreams!

…Right?

Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur, pulling him close. "I don't know why you called, and I'm not going to ask since you're drunk. I'm also not going to ask about the pictures… But you know I love you."

This time a smile did break out on Arthur's lips. It felt strange, since the Briton was always angry and frowning… the smile almost felt foreign.

"I love you, too."

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now.

I said I wouldn't call but I'm a little drunk and I need you now.

And I don't know how I can do without,

I just need you now.

Ooo, baby, I need you now.

A/N: There is no point to this story! I just heard the song 'Need You Now' by Lady Antebellum and I thought I'd write a story to it.

W O W. I am on a roll with these things! Just throwing them out there left and right! I hope you enjoyed it.

Review? :D