A/N: ...Giants won the Super Bowl...Not. Coolios. Well, I don't like football anyway, but I like the Patriots only because their the closest thing we have to a national league near me! Anyway~ They played the National Anthem (thank God no one messed it up this time XD) and then this idea popped into my head! It's short, I know, but some fluff. Enjoy the post-game celebrations!

I do not own Hetalia.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, dude" Alfred squealed, arms flailing in anticipation. "It's totally starting dude, right now! Hurry up, Iggy!"

"I'm coming, you git. Don't get your knickers in a twist", Arthur grumbled as he stepped out of the kitchen and placed a bowl of popcorn on an already crowded coffee table, pretzels, chips, drinks, and other snacks piled high. Large eyebrows were pulled together in irritation. "And – despite your continual use of it – my name is Arthur. No amount of calling me 'Iggy' will change-"

"Ssshh", Alfred hissed, bright blue eyes fixed on the enormously large, flat-screen television. He hovered above the couch, half-sitting, hands clenched in trembling fists. "Come on, come on…"

Arthur scowled, a string of curses on the tip of his tongue. "It's the bloody coin toss!"

The younger man waved the comment away, never glancing away from the screen. Alfred jumped, cheering when the outcomes were displayed to the crowd.

"How can you support one team when both of them are yours", the Brit asked idly.

"Yeah, sure", the blonde answered distractedly. He grabbed a handful of popcorn.

"Are you even listening?" His eyebrow twitched in distain as the other stuffed the handful of artificially flavored 'food' (if that's what Arthur could even call it) into his mouth.

"Mhmm. Anything you want."

Emerlad green eyes flicked from the boy to the television, where the team in blue was starting to kick off, and back. Another mouthful of popcorn. Another yell, this time in anger and Alfred pointed a finger at the screen.

Arthur grabbed the bowl in both hands and chucked it at Alfred.

"Hey!"

When the flying food cleared, Alfred was rubbing the side of his head, hair sticking up from the melted butter, excitement replaced with hurt. He pouted. "What was that for?"

Arthur huffed and crossed his arms.

"What", he repeated.

"You go through all the trouble of trying to convince me to watch this silly game with an insolent boy such as yourself, only to have you pay more attention to the telly than to my person."

Alfred's mouth dropped open and slight shock covered his features before he tried to cover it up with a giant smile and a laugh. He patted the space on the couch next to him and looped an arm around Arthur's shoulders after he sat down.

"Sorry, babe. It's just so exciting, y'know?"

"It's bloody terrific, a bunch of sweaty men in giant helmets crashing into each other like rabid rhinos. I'm not your 'babe', either", he added with a faint trace of a blush. "Not to mention their all your people, and we all know how infuriating you can be just by yourself."

Alfred grinned. "Oh yeah", he teased, placing a quick kiss on the other man's cheek. "Because burly, hairy men chucking each other across the field and screaming obscenities when – what do you call it? – scrumming? is so much more gentlemanly like."

"Rugby is different", he defended, despite leaning into Alfred. "And maybe I'll save you the lecture because you knew a word with more than one syllable."

Alfred hummed his own thoughts about that answer.