So, yeah, this is my first real authors note. I really don't know who actually reads these things, but, if you do, I give you a polite golf clap. So, hooray!

This idea came as I realized I needed to update my account. Sorry about the brief hiatus! LOLZ I do have school and family and other things.

As the summary suggests, it will be eventual USUK and it will most likely be a multi chapter as long as people review and favorite this story. Human names are used, but they are all still countries.

Rated T for England's potty mouth and implied thingies.

Lots of humor will be in this story. But, then again, what would you expect? It IS Alfred and Arthur, you guys! XD

Special Thanks to SHOUTthatIamAwesome and reoswell for editing and revising!

Without any more of my useless talking, here is my FanFic!

You Only Live Once

Chapter 1: Captain Hook and Cologne

Arthur rubbed his temples as he took a sip of his lightly caffeinated tea. Why did it always have to be him? Why did he always have to be the country under the most stress? And people wonder why I am always yelling, he thought to himself as he sat down on his recliner and took another drink of his hot beverage.

Arthur wasn't exactly prepared for what was about to go down. A meeting had just taken place at France's (don't ask) and certain countries were a while away from home, like Japan or China. To make matters worse for them, a massive thunderstorm was occurring and all flights had been cancelled. Therefore, some countries needed a place to stay. Arthur volunteered his place because it was right next door, and the fact he decided he was one of the best choices for the matter. He, Germany, Netherlands, Spain, Belgium, and Italy had offered their houses also.

Their names were put in a hat, and each country that needed a place to stay picked a name out. Those people were China, Japan, Russia, America, Turkey, and America's brother whose name had slipped Arthur's mind. And, as if fate had it, America got England.

Of course, England was furious. He always got annoyed when America was around. The boisterous country always seemed to try to get under his skin and make his life miserable. But, he was a gentleman, so he masked his hate with a somewhat convincing smile. Alfred's face had gleamed as he stated he needed to get his stuff from the airport and he would be over England's 'ASAP'.

Please take as long as you want, Arthur had said to himself as America had left the meeting room. He really wasn't looking forward to the country's mockery and practical jokes. But, England didn't necessarily have a choice. Until the storm cleared up, Arthur was stuck with his obnoxious colleague.

England waited for America. Five minutes…Twenty minutes….

Soon enough, England's mind began to wander. It brought him back to the one dream he had with his fairy friends and the chocolate pudding, to the last fight at the world meeting when France insisted he 'argued like a girl', and, lastly, back to Alfred. The childish nation had seemed so eager to have a 'sleepover' at his house. England couldn't help but find that peculiar….

Damn it! England thought as he realized he didn't have a place for America to sleep. He should have thought about that before he offered his house, not after.

But, everyone makes mistakes, even gentlemen.

Where can Alfred sleep? England pondered as he paced across the room. Sure, he had two guest rooms, but one was being used by Captain Hook while the other was 'quarantined' because of a simple kitchen fire and an investigation by the health community. America could always sleep on the sofa, England thought, but soon dismissed the idea. Making a guest sleep on the couch was certainly not polite. The only other option is my bedroom, Arthur realized. That meant he would have to sleep on the couch, but the couch always jacked his back up. Sighing, England understood that either he would have to sleep on the couch or sleep with America in the bed….

Sleep with America? England questioned. He felt a bit of red begin to tint his cheeks and chest…

England quickly slapped himself. Get yourself together! He scolded. I am sleeping on the couch and that is that!

Now, of course England loved America. America was his brother for god's sake! But, the love was nothing more than a brotherly type bond. Arthur from time to time had to reassure himself of that, (when America was at the swimming pool and his pants feel down, completely revealing "Florida") but he was confident that that was the final answer. He barely had the courage to call America his friend, let alone his love interest. No sir, Arthur did NOT love Alfred.

Yet.

England set down his cup of tea and allowed himself to unbutton the top button of his collared shirt and loosen his tie. He slowly sat back into his recliner and closed his eyes. He decided after a little relaxation and tea, he would read a good book, perhaps some Charles Dickens…

Arthur's plans were interrupted when he heard the front door open loudly, for it crashed against the neighboring wall. England's eyes remained closed as he squeezed them tightened, worried about the damage that must have occurred. He then heard his guest greet him in the most annoying way manageable.

"OH, IGGIEEEEEEEEE!" The rambunctious nation that went by 'America' had squealed those words as he set down his suitcase with a loud THUD on England's freshly polished dinner table. Arthur could virtually see the bill to get it fixed. So, he decided to get the bloody hell in that room before his 'guest' could ruin anything and everything else.

England groaned as he made his way into the kitchen, only to find that America had already made himself at home. Alfred's shoes were kicked off, his feet resting on England's dinner table. America had also dumped his jacket on the ground and had taken off his military clothes, revealing only a pair of pants, socks, and a tank top undershirt. "You do know I eat on this table, right, America?" England asked as he raised a bushy brow, trying not to look at Alfred's torso.

"Whoops, sorry, Iggy," America somewhat apologized as he laughed. England cringed. He really did hate that nickname Alfred had given him. "Well, you know what they say!" America continued, his white teeth gleaming and his feet moving to the neighboring chair's seat.

England raised another eyebrow. What was this nation blabbering on about? "What do they say, America? That putting your rancid feet on a colleague's table is 'appropriate'?"

America just laughed again. "Dude, you are so old! No, I meant YOLO."

Arthur's face remained blank.

"You never heard of the term YOLO before?" Alfred asked, mouth gapping open.

"Close your mouth, America."

"That didn't answer my question."

"Maybe your question doesn't need an answer," England offered.

"It DOES need an answer," Alfred insisted, remaining defiant. "YOLO means You Only Live Once. It emphasizes that you should live life to the fullest."

England rolled his eyes, showing no excitement that Alfred had used the word 'emphasizes' correctly in a sentence. "That is ridiculous. I mean, I get your people would follow that, but not you."

"Why not?"

"Alfred, you may only live once, but let's not forget you also live forever."

"What about living my life to fullest? I can do that!"

"How do you plan on doing that?" England asked reluctantly.

America smiled widely. "Excellent question, Iggy." Alfred then stood up nice and tall, and thought for a moment. "It is hard for me to explain. I will just have to show you." America grabbed his suitcase and turned to England. "I am guessing you want this in your guest room?"

"NO!" England squeaked. Alfred jumped back, surprised at the sound Arthur made. Arthur cleared his throat. "I mean, put your bags in my room. My guest room is currently being used."

"By who?" Alfred asked.

"By whom, America."

"Well, fine then, by whom?"

"Capitan Hook."

America nodded slowly, smirked, and turned the corner, trying to hide is snickering.

It was little things like THAT that set England's teeth on edge.

England sighed. That boy is going to give me a migraine, England insisted.

Arthur then reluctantly picked Alfred's clothes of the floor, holding them out, away from his face. He went up the steps to the laundry room and had just begun to set them in the washer, but not before he got a good whiff of the cologne in Alfred's clothes. Unmistakably, it was Davidoff, most likely Cool Water. The peppermint and jasmine smell filled England's nostrils, along with the other smells of oak and moss. However, Arthur especially loved the peppermint and jasmine.

Oh Alfred…

Arthur soon realized his face was literally buried in Alfred's bomber jacket, so he quickly threw the clothing in the washer and turned the machine on. He allowed his blush to die down and made his way back downstairs. He heard Alfred talking to someone on the phone, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. Frankly, he didn't care. Why would he care what his guest was talking about?

Arthur made his way back to the recliner, set a magazine over his eyes, and closed his lids. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, he repeated to himself. Arthur kept repeating those words over again in his head until he was able to 'rest his eyes' for a good hour.

But Arthur did care. He just didn't know it yet.

AUTHORS NOTE~

I wonder who America is talking to….. : 3

Compliments, tips, ideas, and all the other stuff is encouraged!

Any questions, PM me! Just make sure you state what story your question is on so I don't get confuzzled! I think it is pretty self explanatory, though.

Thanks for reading! :D