America sighed as he looked at his blaring phone. He stole a glance at the clock above the television before pausing his video game to answer his phone.

"Hel-"

"Alfred! Ha-ha!" The all-too-familiar cheery British voice danced through the speaker into America's ear.

"Arthur." America replied, getting up to get his jacket. England's voice was too happy again. America knew just what that meant and what was about to happen.

"How are you tonight?" England drawled out.

"Where are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"England." America stopped, growing serious. "I know the tone in your voice. I recognize the slur. You're drunk. Tell me where you are so I can come get you."

"Ah, ha-ha! Looks like you got me, Alfie. You've always been so good at figuring me out."

"England, your location."

"Right, right! Err, let me see…" America heard something fall over in the background while England mumbled. "I'm at the bar just down the street from your hotel. Huh. I didn't even try to go to one so close this time."

"…Right. Stay there, Arthur. I'll be there soon."

"Right-o~" England laughed merrily as he hung up.

America stared down at his phone. This was the third time this month that England got drunk and called him. He knew every so often England would let his thoughts rule over him and make him drink, but never this often in such a short amount of time. What was making him do it?

He shook his head, deciding it wasn't too important for now. Right now getting England somewhere safe and out of public was the main priority.

OoOoOo

After an unusually quiet car ride home America hoisted a drowsy England onto his back and began to make his way back to his room. All remained quiet for most of the walk until a soft voice spoke up.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"I'm allowed you to stay with you tonight, right?"

"Um…of course. I wouldn't make you stay alone like this."

"Mm." He snuggled his nose into the crook of America's neck. "Good."

America lightly blushed as England's nose gently tickled him. He felt England's grip tighten around him shortly after. His heart began to flutter. He cleared his throat in an attempt to calm himself. He silently thanked God as he approached his room.

"Wrap your legs tighter, Iggy. I don't want to drop you when I open the door."

"Hmm." England hummed, obeying the American holding him up.

America tried to ignore the pressure he felt from England while he pulled out the keycard. He fumbled, missing the slot several times, before finally unlocking the door. He pushed it open, kicked it shut once they were inside, and moved toward the couch. He turned so their backs were facing it.

"Arthur."

"Mm?"

"I'm about to let go so you can sit on the couch, okay?"

"Alright."

America slowly released his hold on England, allowing him to slip down onto the maroon sofa. Once he heard the springs squeak to signal the British nation was safely on it, he stepped away. He turned, looking down at his old friend. England's cheeks were flushed and a goofy smile was placed his lips. America couldn't help but smile himself.

"Are you tired?" He asked, kneeling down.

England looked down at him, his emerald eyes sparkling with an odd gleam. His smile softened while he nodded.

"Okay. I'll go set up the bed, then-"

England reached out, grasping America's hand to effectively cutting him off. The American looked down at him, waiting for him to say something.

"Stay here? I just want to sit with you right now."

"…Okay."

America grabbed the controller to the video game he never turned off and sat down beside England. Immediately the elder nation snuggled up to him. He tucked his head in the crook of his neck with a delighted hum. America shifted slightly, placing his arm around England, and continued his game.

The two remained silently cuddled together most of the night. America finished his game. They watched a few re-runs of "Full House". England played with the material of America's tank top. America idly ran his fingers through England's hair. His brows furrowed as he began thinking to himself.

England seems to get more affectionate when drunk lately. What is that all about? He didn't truly mind, though. He sort of liked this side of him. He's also more honest. Not about the harsh things, though. Oh, no. He's sweetly honest. For example, asking to spend time together instead of going straight to bed. It was kind of cute. Then again, England in general is cute…

"Alfie, can we go to bed now?" England asked suddenly, a strange edge in his tone. America glanced down. We…?

"Sure. Let's go."

He stood, helping England up as he did so, and they made their way to the bedroom. America flicked one of the lights on, led England to the bed, and began to prepare it for his dear friend.

England stood to the side, watching America as he moved. His movements were so graceful and he didn't even realize it making it all the more graceful. The dim light was casting the softest glow onto his face making him look almost angelic. England's heart raced. America was always beautiful to him. He could not deny that to himself. Ever since America grew into his "teenage" years he thought that, hence the reason why he tried to avoid the boy through those times.

"Alright." America straightened up. "Everything is all set for you, Iggy."

The moment America turned to face England he was tackled to the bed. England trapped his arms above his head, locked eyes with him, and gingerly placed his lips upon America's. He allowed his eyes to slink shut while America could only stare wide-eyed at the man on top of him. When America made no move to respond to the kiss, England barely pulled back.

"I'm sorry, Alfred." His lips tickled America's with each word he spoke. "I just can't control myself anymore."

He moved to place kisses along America's jawline and neck. When England gently began to nip at his skin he slowly started to react. A gentle moan escaped through his lips, encouraging England to go further. England released his wrists, instead moving to run his hands along America's sides. A shiver racked up the American's spine in pleasure. He gripped England's hips, flipping them over so he was on top.

He locked their lips in a passionate kiss. As England wiggled underneath him, America forced his tongue into his mouth. The battle for dominance was short and an easy victory. As their tongues danced England bucked up against America.

"I want you, Alfred." England groaned as he threw his head back while grinding against the young nation.

America abruptly pulled away, completely removing himself from England. Confused and still in the mood England moved behind him, nibbling at his ear.

"Arthur, stop. Stop." America shooed him away, quickly standing up. He stared at the wall, finding himself unable to look at the Brit sprawled on his bed.

"Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong…?"

"What? No. You didn't…you didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why?"

"You're not sober. You aren't thinking clearly and I'm not going to take advantage of that." He glided to the door, turning the light out in the process. "Go to sleep, Iggs. I'll be in the living room tonight if you need me."

OoOoOo

America filled up the glass in his hand with cold water. He carefully went to the bathroom, retrieved a bottle of aspirin, and made his way to his bedroom. Quietly he opened the door, expecting Britain to be sleeping. Instead he looked up to see his friend sitting up in the bed, knees pulled to his chest, and a blank expression on his face.

"I thought you might want these." America smiled, setting the bottle and glass on the bedside table. He hesitated beside the bed, waiting for England to respond in some way. He made no movements indicating he was going to speak, so America kicked his feet awkwardly, unsure of what else to do.

"Okay. Well. I'll just leave you be." He turned, going to leave the room when he heard England murmur something behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at him. "What?"

"I said I don't have a hangover. I wasn't as drunk as you thought I was." He hid his face in the sheets.

"So, you lied to me?"

"No, you git! I was drunk last night. But I was fine after you turned your video game off."

America blinked. If he was fine after he was done with his game then that meant…

"You knew what you were doing last night." America whispered into the stillness of the room.

"Yes. I did." England confirmed, sounding terribly guilty.

"Why didn't you tell me?" America smiled, sitting down next to England.

"I embarrassed myself."

"How?"

"How?! Because I've loved you for the longest bloody time and when I finally got my nerve up to do something about it, you put a stop to it! That's how! You would be embarrassed, too, and don't even try to deny it!"

The moment he stopped yelling, England's cheeks flamed bright red. He dove under the sheets, curling into the fettle position. America couldn't stop himself from laughing. From inside the shield of blankets he heard: 'Shut up, wanker!'.

"Iggy." America chuckled. "Come out of there. Please?"

Slowly, the blanket pulled down enough to allow England's eyes to peek out. America's smile softened. He gently tugged at the blanket until all of England's face could be seen.

"You're right. I would've been embarrassed if I was in your position last night. But I would have stopped you from leaving the room and told you my feelings."

"…What…exactly are your feelings…?"

"Well…let's see." America lay back, resting his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling while England warily watched him. "I do like you. Like, a lot. What we started last night…I've literally dreamed of that kind of thing happening before."

"So…?"

"Sooo, I want you to be my boyfriend." America slid his hand under the blankets, found England's hand, and interlocked their fingers. "I don't think I'm in love with you yet. But I can tell you I'm already pretty damn close."

"Mm." England hummed, scooting closer to America. "Let's keep our new relationship quiet for a while, shall we? I don't want to hear Frog Face going on about it."

"You got it, babe. As of now, we're a secret. Like Romeo and Juliet."

"Don't compare us to them."

"Why not? Their story is one of the best romances I've ever read."

"Their story was written by Shakespeare. He didn't write romances. He wrote tragedies. Romeo and Juliet was a tragic story about a three day long relationship between a thirteen year old and seventeen year old that resulted in six deaths."

"Oh…well, whatever. I still think it's a love story."

England laughed as he rested his head against America's shoulder, closing his eyes to rest a little more. He felt America's breathing change to a deep and steady rhythm. He smiled, right at the edge of sleep himself.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Both men bolted upright at the sudden sound. America groaned, telling England to stay in bed while he went to answer the door. He had just closed the bedroom door when the front door slammed open.

"Ciao, Alfred! Big Brother France sent me to get you and Arthur. You're both late for the meeting and we can't start without you!~" Italy sang in his unnaturally chipper voice.

"How did you open the door?! I had it locked!"

Ignoring America, Italy skipped into the hotel room. "Is Arthur here with you?"

"Uh, yeah. But, we won't be able to make it to the meeting today."

"Oh? Why not?" Italy tilted his head in an innocent manner.

"Artie got pretty sick last night. I'm helping him get better today. Tell the guys I'm sorry, but there won't be any meetings today."

"Oh, alright." Italy walked to the door, considerably calmer than just a few moments ago. Just as he opened the door, he paused. He turned back around, with his eyes open for a change, and a knowing smile on his lips.

"Have fun with Arthur, Alfred. I hope he feels much better tomorrow." The Italian winked before shutting the door with a giggle. America stood there, his jaw hanging open. England cautiously opened the bedroom door, meeting America in the hallway. He slipped his arms around his waist and rested his head on his shoulder.

"What's with you? What did Feliciano want?"

"…Dude. I don't think he's as dense as we all think he is."

England began to question him, but changed his mind. Instead he tugged America to the sofa, turned the television on, and began the first of many long, lazy days with his lover.