Hello again! The day before Valentine's day, I just got in the mood to write so I wrote and wrote and wrote and eventually created this:) Hope you like it! Read on, happy late Valentine's Day.

Chapter 1

Arthur took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before taking another drink of his beer. It was Valentine's day and he was alone, again. Francis had of course propositioned him, but Arthur would never stoop that low. It seemed that ever country had something planned tonight but him. Even stupid Alfred. The dimwitted git had evidently hooked up with Francis after Arthur rejected him. Arthur saw them leaving the meeting together. Standing far too close for just "platonic" friends. Whispering details in each other's ears.

Arthur saw stupid Alfred's smile after Francis said something. They were probably shagging up Alfred's whole house by now. Or at least were on their way to by now. Arthur just wants to go home, curl up on his couch with a bowl of ice cream, watch Doctor Who, and cry. What time is it anyways? Arthur glanced at his phone, and after taking a couple of seconds to focus on the screen, sighed as the little digital clock struck 1:47AM. The bar would be closing soon and Arthur wasn't nearly as drunk as he was hoping to get.

He felt tears burn at his eyes as he thought about what the other countries were probably doing right now. He threw the thought away before he made a fool of his self in the middle of the bar. Arthur finished his glass and quickly ordered another, requesting a stronger alcohol. The bar tender gave him a worried look but exchanged his glass anyways.

The ten minutes left before closing time, leaves Arthur more depressed and drunk than when he came in. Drunk enough to not walk straight, but not enough to inhibit his judgment, Arthur carefully makes his way off of the bar stool at the insistence of the Bar tender and grabs his coat, shivering at the freezing temperatures. He hails a taxi and thanks all that is holy that the meeting took place in Arthur this month. Once arriving home Arthur wobbles up his stairs and fumbles with his keys to unlock his door, surprised and suspicious at finding it already unlocked. He slowly makes his way inside, cursing his feet for the inability to walk straight, and shut's the door very quietly before glancing into the living room. What meets his eyes is so unexpected; Arthur actually feels his self fall back, slumping onto the wall, dropping his jaw upon impact.

His coffee table is filled with assorted candies and sweets, all delicious looking. The whole box set for season 1 to season 7 of Doctor Who lay off to the side of the table with a small TARDIS blue bow on top. And the best part of all was the hansom American currently sleeping on his couch all dressed up in nice, but casual clothing (no holes or stains anywhere), his shoes and glasses still on and mouth hanging wide open for drool to escape. Arthur must have made some kind of noise entering the house because Alfred was suddenly shifting back to consciousness. His bright blue eyes peeked open before widening fully and glancing over to Arthur. Alfred's whole face brightened immediately and he sat up quickly, straightening out his shirt and jumping up. Alfred smiled as wide as he could at Arthur and said, "Welcome home, England! Happy Valentine's day."

Arthur blushed heavily and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "W- What? Wasn't… Weren't you with France tonight?" was the lame reply that escaped him.

Alfred laughed loudly, shaking his head. "Nooo! France was helping me set all this up! The sweets were his idea after all. Oh! Hey! I set up tea for you! But I wasn't sure wen you'd get home, so we can start it now! Come on!" Alfred raced past Arthur, grabbing his hand in the process and drug him to the kitchen. Arthur lost his footing though in his now tipsy state and tripped into Alfred's back. Alfred impacted with the counter upon impact and spun around, gently easing Arthur back onto his feet. Alfred peered into Arthur's eyes, making Arthur's face become redder. "Arthur… Are you drunk?"

Arthur felt that burning prickling feeling yo get before you cry again but shook it away. "No! I only had a few."

Alfred sighed and hugged Arthur to his chest. "You didn't have to go drinking, England. Why did you anyways? I know for a fact you were alone."

Arthur shrugged out of Alfred's arms and sighed heavily; moving Alfred out of the way, he began to make tea. "I just… I thought I was going to be alone again this year."

Arthur felt two of Alfred's strong arms wrap around his middle, leaning onto the smaller nation. "Well now you're not alone. If you want me that is."

Arthur blushed again and turned around in Alfred's arms. He gazed up at the American's eyes and smiled a bit shyly. "Of course I want you. I just never thought you'd like me back." He felt his self frown again. "I really thought you were going to be getting off with France tonight…" Arthur dropped his gaze.

Alfred brushed back Arthur's bangs and tilted is chin up. "Never," he said. "I just asked France to help me plan how to ask you. So, England, Arthur Kirkland, will you be my Valentine?"

Arthur nodded quickly and then they were kissing. Arthur had his arms wound tightly around Alfred's neck and Alfred had his hands pressed against the smaller nations back. Arthur moaned quietly when Alfred swiped his tongue against Arthur's lips. He opened his mouth obediently, allowing the American access. Alfred suddenly slid his hands down to Arthur's butt cheeks, squeezing firmly before picking him up and placing him on the counter. Arthur wrapped his legs around Alfred's back and moaned a little louder as more of their bodies came into contact. Alfred messaged the warm globes in his hands and pressed Arthur to the back of the counter against the wall, sliding his tongue deeper. He grunted when Arthur moved his hands from Alfred's neck to tangle in his golden hair.

The two sprang apart suddenly, jumping at the loud whistle being emitted by the tea pot. They breathed heavily, resting their foreheads together. Alfred untangled Arthur's limbs and took a few steps back and marveled at the picture before him. Arthur was more than a little disheveled. His lips were raw from kisses, glistening from excess saliva, hair tangled and downright flushed from the tips of his toes to his ears. Arthur was breathing deeply with his eyes closed, lumped against the wall, with a slight tenting of his trousers. He carefully made his way off of the counter and pulled down two tea cups preparing the blasted tea that had startled them. Alfred pulled his cup gently from Arthur's grasp and tugged the brit into the living room.

The two were soon curled on the couch, drinking tea and filling on sweets, as Doctor Who played.