Author's Note- How does one go about to write a USUK fic? The first step is...don't. Wait a minute, look at this! I failed already!

Written for my dearest buddy/pal/dude/man, TheSpazzyPineappianCactus.

Whatever was spewing out of Alfred's mouth, Arthur was positive it was some form of defecation disguised as words.

"We should just take all the oil reserves and put them in my country! It's huge! Come on, they'll all fit!"

Yes, definitely some sort of verbal defecation. Some of the conference members let out nearly inaudible groans and wiggled in their seats. In an attempt to add some humor to the room, and to put the young man in his place, Arthur huffed loudly, propped his elbow on the table and announced, "I will let you know that if you were to take a crap on the carpet, what would come out of your fat arse would be no different than what is spilling out of your mouth."

A wave of silence washed over the room as the speaker's jaw dropped, as if to catch flies. Snickers rose from the group, so he had to come up with something very quickly. "Hey! This is important stuff!" Basically, telling Arthur to shut up and listen in such a cheerful way.

"To be frank, you have yet again summoned us to gather here to simply listen you rattle off your bizarre ideas. It is a waste of time for starters, and you would not be able to pay me enough to consider any of them."

Alfred retorted with a simple shrug, "Why should I worry about what you think?"

Arthur internally winced. When the men and women in the surrounding seats looked to him, he grimaced, "One of these days, you are going to tick off the wrong person, and you'll bite off more than you can chew."

A low voice off to his right side grumbled, "Really? Is this how yet another meeting is going to be spent?" A few others murmured in agreement.

"Are you serious?" Arthur did not miss how Alfred's eyes flickered in a nervous manner around the antsy crowd. "You with the fat jokes again? Real mature!"

"You are one to talk!" Arthur bit back. "Do you not have anything better to do than stuff disgusting slop in your face and come up with ideas to tick people off?"

"I..." Alfred's mouth popped open, and he clamped it shut with a hurt expression. "No, I guess not," he mumbled, hesitating for a moment before darting out of the room. Arthur stared after him with shock evident on his face despite his inner triumph. Usually these kinds of things last longer, and it was a slow day.

Someone piped up, "Is he done?"

"Does that mean it is break time?"

"Break? Did you say break? I like breaks."

Soon all the conference members cleared out of the room, like children dashing away for recess. Arthur rose out of his seat, and a frown embedded on his face from everyone's happy expressions pushing by him, save for one that burned guilt into his stomach.

"I suppose that was a tad too much."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

A lot of the meeting attendees clumped in the main hall leading to the conference room, all full of gossip and arguments. Arthur eagerly mingled with them, free from the previously tense atmosphere. "When it comes to those kinds of cars, I would have better luck riding down the street on the back of an Italian lad!"

A brunet nearby tilted his head. "Ve?"

A hand tapped Arthur's shoulder, breaking him out of his fits of laughter. "What?" He whipped around and pulled an aggravated expression. "Showing your face again, Alfred?"

The look alike sighed and shook his head. "No, wrong brother."

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, scrutinizing the longer and wavier blond hair. "Oh, right, of course. Do you need something, Matthew?"

"Alfred is hiding in the lounge and will not come out."

"He is? Err, I mean, why must I know of this?"

"He said it was your fault he is in there."

"My fault?" Arthur squawked. "He was the one that was acting like a bloody idiot!"

"Wait!" Matthew softly called out when the Englishman began to stomp in the direction of the lounge. "Alfred cares about what you have to say more than he lets up, and for you to say those awful things...let's just say we both know how sensitive he is about his weight and heroics."

Arthur tugged at his dress shirt collar when his face grew hot. "Ah, well then, I will try to be nice. However, I will not promise anything."

"Thank you," Matthew's voice faded away as Arthur streaked down the hallway as fast as he could without running.

Cracking open the door to the voluminous lobby, Arthur did not notice anybody inside until a head of sandy colored hair peeked up from one of the couches. "Go 'way!"

Arthur lightly snorted, and shut the door behind him. He walked over to the sofa to stand in front of it and put his hands on his hips. "Alfred, what are you doing?"

The young man was laying on his side, arms wrapped around his knees tucked against his chest. He avoided Arthur's gaze in favor of gazing at the carpet. "I said shoo."

"You will be saying 'shoe' when I put mine up your arse!" Arthur latched onto Alfred's arm and tried to pull him to sit. "Get up and stop moping!"

"No!" Alfred whined, and did not budge, no matter how hard Arthur yanked. "You'll just say mean stuff again!"

"Oh, for the love of-" Arthur clamped his mouth shut. He cross his arms with a dramatic sigh and grumbled to himself, "I said I would try to be nice...nicer, at least."

"Why are you here?"

"Because I feel bad, all right? You made a sad face, and it reminded me of a kicked puppy."

Alfred scrambled to his feet. "Are you apologizing?!"

"I am not saying sorry, if that is what you want!" Arthur delivered a jab to his stomach. He pulled back, surprised when Alfred quickly slapped a hand over his tummy.

An uneasy laugh, "I guess that's the best I'm going to get from you."

"Speak for yourself! Are you going to stop being a twat?" Arthur prodded him again, earning an unmanly squeak from the other blond. "Huh? That's strange."

Alfred took a fast step back, but his calves his the couch. "Ha-ha, what's strange?"

Arthur tipped his head thoughtfully. "You stuff your face with junk food every damned day." He seized the American's sides, making him jump. "Where is your fat?!"

"H-hey! Stop groping me!" Alfred's demands bubbled into squeaky laughter. "You creep!"

Arthur took a step back. "You are...ticklish?"

Alfred brushed himself off with panicked hands. "No!"

"Really?" A wicked expression shadowed Arthur's face. "It seems like you are!" Baring his teeth in a grin that would make onions cry, he held his hands up, fingers bent and ready to tickle.

"No it doesn't!" Alfred danced around the coffee table and couches.

"Then why are you running?"

"I'm not running!" He ducked to one side, and his foot caught on the leg of the table. "R-really Arthur! That face is going to give me nightmares!"

"You are a rude little boy!" Arthur retorted, zipping around the piece of furniture. "I say that calls for a tickle session twice as long!"

Alfred scrambled away from the cretin lunging after him. "Do you know you sound like a pervert?! Pervert old man!"

Placing a leg on the table, Arthur suddenly leaped over it, and snagged Alfred's dress shirt that was exposed from his open jacket before he could get too far. "Do you know you sound like a dog toy, squeaking like that?" He retorted, running his fingers up Alfred's sides like a passionate pianist.

"Hee-hee, I can't...help it!" Alfred tried wrapping his arms around himself and elbowing him away, but Arthur's hands seemed to always find an opening. "Stop! I'm gonna pee! Arthur!" He repeated louder, "I'm gonna pee!"

"Good, you little git! This will teach you to bite your tongue!" Arthur snagged his sides one last time before backing away with a satisfied smile.

Alfred wheezed, rubbing all of the offended areas. "Are you happy now, or are you going to spend the rest of the lunch break tickling me?"

"I am done," Arthur declared, whisking away toward the door, head held high as he felt much better than that morning. He paused with his hand on the door knob, and the creepy smile returned for a quick moment. "For now."

"Hey!"

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

What is Arthur going to do with this private information? Is he going to tell everyone else and they are going to come after Alfred with outstretched hands, ready to tickle? The thought scared him; Alfred did not know, and the next meeting approached a couple of weeks later too quickly.

Some of the conference members littered the hallway, chatting before the meeting begun, but most of them were making their way inside the stuffy room. Alfred's eyes jumped from the back of everyone's heads, keeping watch for a stray head of shaggy blond hair. It did not help that most of the Europeans had light hair.

A snicker made the hairs on Alfred's neck stand up as he crept by a smaller figure. "Good morning, lad."

Alfred skittered to a halt, and braced himself with a deep inhale before spinning around to face Arthur. He nonchalantly pulled his suit jacket closed as if he were cold, and said, "What's up, Artie? How's it going?"

Arthur shrugged. "I suppose the morning could have been better, not to mention this meeting coming up. I hope you do not plan on mucking up this one either. You wouldn't dare do that, would you?"

Al stepped back when the other man leaned forward, and glanced down to his fingers performing a little dance. "Come on, Artie, you know me! I'm just trying my best to make these things more bearable," he spoke quickly, avoiding Arthur's intense green stare. "Speaking of which, we'd better get in there, or else they'll lock us out!"

Alfred spun on his heel and breezed into the room, aware of Arthur closely following him. "Sup dudes?" His voice cracked when he greeted the attendees. He cleared his throat and was about to drop his stack of papers on the podium at the head of the table, but a slender hand shot out and landed on his arm.

"I will be going first, if you do not mind."

"What?" Alfred exclaimed bluntly, "No way, dude, you always have boring things to say!"

Arthur scoffed from offense, but easily retorted, "That is why I should be going first."

Alfred had hoped and planned in a rub-hands-together-evilly way to go off long enough so Arthur would not have enough time to present his data. A genius plan, he knows, and he opened his mouth to come up with an excuse in insisting of going first, but instead of words coming out, an unmanly squeak escaped. Some people who were settling in their seats looked up at the weird noise, and all those fruitions ideas withered away before the big show.

"How about it?" Arthur was getting dangerously close with his fingers hovering over Alfred's sides - not the kind one would eat with their burgers.

It was either be tickled in front of the whole room, or preserve his reputation and fight another day. Arthur's eyes narrowed, and Alfred's face puckered in return. He shrugged as if he were not at lost, "Sure, if you are all for it. Go ahead. I got to look over my notes for the twelfth time, anyway." He meant to coolly breeze away, but his legs skittered and he loudly plopped in his seat as quickly as possible. He grimaced at the table, not wanting to revel in the victorious smirk on the other man's face. "I gotta do something about this!"

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

The next appropriate course of action would be Alfred finding a way to prevent Arthur from using his ticklishness to get over on him. He knew just the man to help him.

Alfred barged into his brother's house. "Mattie!"

Matthew gasped, and the book he was reading leaped out of his hands. He scrambled off his couch at the intrusion and freaked, "What the hell, Alfred! What did I tell you about entering people's homes on a whim? You have to tell them first, or at least knock-"

"-because what if they mistake me for an intruder? I could get severely hurt, blah, blah, blah," Alfred finished. His brother pushed his glasses up his nose, silently scorning him. "Mattie, I need you to tickle me!"

Matthew's disdainful stare morphed into one of confusion. "You...what?"

"I need you to tickle me!" Alfred repeated, louder. "If I build up an immunity to being tickled, then Arthur won't be able to do it!"

"Is that what has been going on?"

"Does it matter? After today, I won't be ticklish!"

"Alfred, even if someone can become immune to tickling, you are not going to achieve that in one day."

His brother peeled off his coat and plopped it into the living room chair. "Did you ever try? Come on!"

"I suppose you won't stop bothering me until I do it," Matthew softly sighed, and slipped off his glasses, just in case an arm flailed to high. He approached Alfred with his hands raised, and rather enjoyed the nervous look on his face.

"W-wait!" Alfred faltered when he got too close. "I'm not ready!"

"No one is going to give you a warning before they tickle you, Al." To demonstrate this, Matthew lunged forward and seized his brother's sides.

"Eek! Hee-hee!" Alfred hunched over, and his own glasses tumbled to the living room carpet. "Okay, okay! Break!" He inhaled shakily as Matthew stepped back. "Woo...All right, let's go again!"

His brother was more than willing to comply. Tickling was an excellent method to stop Alfred from talking...somewhat.

"No good! I'm still ticklish."

"That was only two bouts of tickling."

Alfred straightened, patting his chest. "Lay some more on me, bro!" He called, only to flinch and squeal like a mouse as Matthew tickled with all his might.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

After an hour long tickling session, plus breaks, Alfred groaned, grabbing his abdomen as he pressed his forehead to his brother's dining table. "My sides hurt from laughing too much."

Matthew set a mug near him. "It was more like from giggling too much."

Alfred's head snapped up. "Hey! You'd make funny noises if you got tickled!"

Matthew crooned in a gentle tone, "Do it, and I will pour a scalding cup of cocoa on your face," and took a seat beside his brother.

Alfred clamped his own mug and huffed, "That did not help matters at all!"

"I'm sure that is not true. All that laughter had to relieve some stress."

Alfred whined, "Arthur is still going to be able to tickle me." He pondered for a moment, and then raised a finger when he got an idea. "I'll start wearing more clothes, like some kind of tickle-resistant shield!"

"It is the middle of June," his brother reminded him, and yet they were drinking cocoa. "Besides, it is not a bad thing to be tickled."

"You haven't seen the face Arthur makes when he does it! It's like this!"

"Wow!" Matthew leaned away. "That is slightly terrifying."

"How do you think I feel?" Alfred grumbled, taking a long swig from his cup. "Man, that's good. Mm!"

"Al."

"Huh? Oh, right. So it is a bad thing to be tickled. It is creepy!"

"Then tickle him back. When he realizes what he is doing is weird, then maybe he'll stop."

"That's genius!" Alfred shot to his feet. "Wait until he gets a taste of his own medicine!" He poked his brother's side before snatching his jacket from the living room chair and threw the front door open. "Thanks, Mattie! See you at work!"

Matthew hissed at the hot chocolate seeping into his jeans from jumping at his brother's jab. "Yeah, sure, you're welcome."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

"Artie! Artie! Arthur!"

Said man turned from the conference room he was about to enter. A soft smile lifted his cheeks. "Hello, Alfred. What has you in a tizzy?"

Alfred stopped in front of the shorter man, fidgeting with the fluffy collar of his jacket. "Oh, nothin' much..." Arthur nodded, but did not say anything else, so they hung awkwardly. "Fuck it!" Al shouted, spooking anybody within a ten-foot radius.

Arthur gasped when Alfred's hands grabbed his hips. He sucked in a sharp breath, pointedly cleared his throat, and stepped backwards. "Alfred, this is so sudden."

"What is going on?" Alfred asked, mostly to himself, and stepped closer to run his fingers across Arthur's stomach.

"I should be asking you the same thing." Arthur rested his hands on Alfred's forearms and murmured, "This isn't the best place for this, don't you think?"

"Huh?" Alfred grimaced at the other man's pinked cheeks. He quickly retracted his hands from like, the opposite of what he was betting for and backed away. "Uh...sorry?" He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked anywhere else as Arthur smoothed the wrinkles in his dress shirt. "Shit, the meeting. Uh, got to go!" He jogged into the conference room for a cheap escape as green eyes bored into his back.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

"Mattie! Mattie! Matthew!"

"I am right here, Alfred."

Alfred spun around and grabbed his brother's shoulders, towing him away from the entrance, away from prying eyes and ears. "Mattie! It didn't work!"

Matthew peeled Alfred's hands from his shoulders. "What did not work?"

"Tickling Arthur! Wow, that sounds so weird, but he all he did was look at me weird!"

"He looked at you weirdly? Did you not tickle him in a good spot?" Matthew's face soured. "Wow, that sounds really weird, too."

"I got his stomach and sides, but I don't think he's ticklish! I think I may have pissed him off!"

Matthew glanced to one side. "Why would you say that?"

"He kept looking at me all freaky-like during the meeting like he's plotting something against me! It made me feel...weird! Violated! What am I going to do?" Alfred squeaked, much to his embarrassment, when two arms came from behind and clutched onto his waist.

With a little smile to Matthew, Arthur seethed right into Alfred's ear, "I do hope you are not talking about me when I am right here. It's rude."

"Arthur!" Alfred belted too noisily for his own liking. "No! Of course not! That would be lame, right Mattie?! I was just saying...um..." He bared his teeth in a smile that wept for help. Matthew raised his eyebrows, waiting for what he was going to come up with. "Th-there's this new burger at McDonalds, and the sauces they use make my stomach feel weird."

"Really?" Arthur's smile grew into something villainous. "Then I should give it a try as well. I bet it wouldn't hurt my stomach. Not alone, of course. That would just be sad." He gave Alfred's shoulder a little nudge with his own. "How about it?"

Matthew glanced away from Alfred's desperate, silent plea in his blue eyes, biting his lip hard to prevent from laughing.

"Well, lad?" Arthur gave Alfred's sides a quick squeeze, as if squeezing an answer out.

"Ha-ha, y-yeah! Whatever you say man! Just don't tickle me so much!"

"Oh, come on, now. It's not so bad." Despite his huffing and puffing, a triumphant smile colored Arthur's face as he let go of his victim. He gave Alfred's arm a generous rub. "I will stop by your flat at seven tonight."

"Sounds good," Alfred replied weakly, and put a hand to his stomach as a fluttering sensation ruined his plans of binge watching Netflix that night.

"Yes, I know," Arthur chuckled, leaving the two brothers to stare at him strut down the hallway.

Matthew faced his brother. "Are you okay? Did you forget to breathe again?"

"Kind of," Alfred admitted. "You know how I said he makes me feel weird?" Matthew nodded. "Well, now I'm feeling really weird! Mattie, stop laughing! What am I going to do?!"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Al. Arthur is actually ticklish," Matthew concluded. "He has a ticklish personality."