Authors notes no one will probably read:
This is my attempt to perfect the cliché story of, "Characters get drunk and mess around!" I have read a lot of fanfiction that follows the same basic plot that I personally find to be uninteresting and lacks creativity. Also, I hate it when the story doesn't explore what happens the morning after. The stories mostly end with, "I love you," and "I love you too." I hate this. I cannot stand a story ending in dialogue. There are exceptions, if it is following a quote or something. I feel like there is a more creative way to end a story that leaves the reader feeling fulfilled (not in a dirty way!) as if an epic journey has come to an end. Anyways, this is me, trying to break the mold, so I hope that you enjoy.

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America stood just off the sidewalk under the light of a street lamp, standing outside of a local bar within the city of Washington D.C., drinking in the cool of the night and the city lights. He had stepped out of the bar for a little while to escape the noise and get some fresh air. The loud roar of the crowd had begun to suffocate him, and he had started to develop a headache from it. He relaxed and breathed, thankful for a taste of crisp air and preferred even the faint hint of fast food and car exhaust to the smells of hot burned food, spilled liquor and body sweat that seemed to cling to the stale air within the bar. He leaned against the buildings red bricked wall and took in the area around him, creating a moment of sweet escape for himself.

The background music was made up of some lively music coming from a dance club across the street, the sound of honking cars, and a few words of conversations as people past him by. America sighed and took a long drag off of the cigarette he bummed from a kind stranger. He knew it was a bad habit, but it made him feel a little more relaxed after a stressful day. This whole week Alfred had to deal with Germany, Italy, Japan, France, Canada, China, Russia, and England all staying in his countries capital in various hotels for the World Powers Conference. Since it was hard for every country to meet every six months, the original members of the G8 and China, could afford to meet that often. Once a year there was a world meeting where every other nation would join them and have a world conference. Alfred was lucky he only had to host a few nations in his country.

He played it off like it was all fun and games, and often times it could be, but in reality it was hard keeping everyone away from each others throats sometimes. And when it was your turn to host the most powerful nations of the world within your borders, you had to be at least a little professional and at least look like you're on top of things. Not only did he have to deal with them during the day, but tonight, they had all decided to come to the same bar that night to drink together. He took another hit and grimaced when a loud voice interrupted his thoughts.

"What the bloody hell do you think your doing out here?" A familiar accent asked him. Alfred clenched his teeth and turned to see England, still wearing what he wore to the meeting this morning, a neatly pressed and tailored white collared shirt with a charcoal grey vest with matching dress pants. Same as always, he wore his famous disapproving scowl.

"Fancy meeting you out here." America said in a flat tone. "I thought you would be stoned drunk by now."

Arthur did not look amused. "I thought smoking was banned in public area's, Alfred." He said Alfred, but clearly he meant America, and he said it in a mocking tone. "And on top of that, it's not doing your body any favors by doing that."

"Bite me." Alfred shot back and took another drag. Arthur knew full well that smoking was banned in buildings, and it was perfectly acceptable to do so outside of public places. "It's not like its going to kill me. Plus, your one to talk. Calling me out for smoking, when you still carry a pack in your coat pocket, and drink yourself nearly into a coma."
Arthur's eyebrow twitched, clearly not liking to be back talked. "Well, if you insist on being an arse but it, at least give me one."

Alfred wanted to tell him to find his own, but that would only piss off the Brit more. And there was still one more day of meetings before the other nations went home to there respective countries. He didn't want to send them home to hate America even more. "Sorry. This is the only one I got."

"Doesn't bother me." Arthur said and without hesitating, took the half-smoked cigarette from Alfred's fingers and brought it to his lips.

Alfred opened his mouth to complain, after all that was his only cigarette, but found himself pausing. He watched as if it were in slow motion play-by-play as Arthur breathed in and held it, savoring the feeling before releasing. A trail of smoke eased out of his mouth when he exhaled and dissipated slowly into the wind. Arthur's green eyes were unforced and glazed, and he looked surprisingly content, seeming to find a slice of peace somewhere within that puff of poison. Alfred gulped and wanted to pull at his collar, suddenly feeling a little warm. Somehow the temperature seemed to spike and he swallowed, all the while Arthur took another drag and this time when he breathed out, he blew a few perfectly formed smoke rings into the air.

The Brit's mouth moved, but Alfred hardly heard what the Brit was saying to him, and instead took the moment to really look over Arthur. Looking past his up-tight nature, his unpleasant attitude, his constant scowling, and his general dislike of anything and anyone who got the better of him, Arthur was fun to be around and Alfred found him rather appealing. Sure, everyone often made fun of his large eyebrows, himself included. But the truth was, they weren't off-putting, not really. There was something about them that seemed to fit him. While it was true that some of his colonies shared this trait with him, to America, it only worked well with his features and gave England his very own unique style. His light golden blonde hair framed his face and looked the best when it was a little unkept and wild, a punk cut could offset his suits to make him appear serious and business-like, but also reflect the inner pirate he used to be in times long past.

And then there were his eyes, America's favorite feature. It was hard to describe their color, as it seemed to change depending on the Brit's mood. Sometimes, when Arthur was angry, usually at him, they appeared like polished Jade, hard and unforgiving. Other times, when he was thoughtfully reading, they seemed to glow like a pair if clean cut Emeralds that held a curious depth. When embarrassed, they seemed guarded, mimicking a misty sea green. With all their variations of emotions and colors, those were eyes America found himself lost in.

Only when Arthur glanced at him and gave him a strange look did Alfred realize he had been staring. His face flushed a little and he quickly looked away. He made an attempted to cover the awkward silence with a forced cough, silently hoping to shift Arthur's attention on something else. Fortunately, the nation seemed to let the odd behavior slide without question.

"Coming back in?" Arthur asked him casually, flicking the ashes at his feet.
"Y-yeah. In a minute. Just wanted to get some air."

"Alright. I'll buy you a drink as a thank you when you come back in." Arthur offered the cigarette back and Alfred was only dimly aware of taking it. His eyes followed Arthur as he walked away, back into the bar for another drink. He gave the cigarette in his hands on unsure look and bit his lower lip. His mind flashed back, showing him an image of only moments ago as the cigarette was held between Arthur's lips. Alfred felt a familiar heat touch his face. He wasn't sure if he was okay with throwing it out only half smoked. It wasn't about wasting it, since he didn't pay for it, but...would it be weird? Arthur...it had just been in the island nation's mouth and if he happen to finished it...Wouldn't that be like...an indirect kiss? His grip loosened but even as it started to slip, he clutched it tighter.

This might be the closest I ever get. And may be my only chance... Shyly, Alfred brought it back to his mouth and cautiously sucked on the filter, filling his own lungs with another dose of nicotine. Oddly, his chest fluttered with a new feeling. This gave him an all-new high and he drew on it as deeply as he could before letting it go. A warmth spread through his body, washing the stress from him in an oddly fulfilling way. If this is what an indirect kiss felt like, what might a real one do?

When the moment past, he stood, staring down at the cigarette, suddenly feeling guilty for indulging his fantasies. "This...this is silly." He told himself, and put it out on the wall and threw the remains away properly. Part of him wanted to leave now, feeling a little awkward about facing England now, but the Brit was expecting him back. And who could say no to free drinks? He took a clean breath and straightened his shoulders, trying to expel the odd bit of uncertainty he held, and re-entered the bar.

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"Think you can handle it from here?" Alfred asked the Brit, letting go of the arm he had been holding to steady him as they walked the long hallway back to Arthur's hotel room.

He got an immediate answer when Arthur stumbled and tripped into the wall.
"Guess not."

"Let's go some place else. Maybe one of the strip clubs is still open."
"No way."

"How about getting something to eat then?"

"I'm not hungry. Plus we have to be up early."

England laughed loudly, ignoring America's attempt to hush him.

"People are trying to sleep. It's like," Alfred checked his phone. "It's nearly two am. We've got to be up for the meeting tomorrow too." He told him, trying to reason with him still. He knew trying to convince a drunken person of anything was hard, and it would only get him frustrated in the end. "You have to go to bed."

"But I'm not tired yet." Arthur said, but the yawn that followed proved he was lying.

He finally got Arthur to his room, number 526. He wished he had been on the first floor. Arthur kept pushing buttons in the elevator, and they had stopped at every floor on the way up. But it would have been harder to drag him up five flights of stairs when he could barely walk straight.

"Arthur, where'd you put your room key?" He asked, but Arthur seemed out of it now, perhaps suddenly feeling the sleepy effects of drinking way to much.

Alfred attempted to search Arthur's pockets, but the ex-pirate was having trouble standing on his own. Leaning him up against the door, using one hand placed on his chest to help steady him, he patted his pockets. "Where did you put your room key?" He asked again, not finding it in the damn key card.

"Wallet. Back pocket." Arthur mumbled softy.

Great.

Arthur started pulling at his collar, trying to loosen his tie but his fingers were numb and fumbling. "It's hot in here." He slurred, unable to even do simple tasks now.

"That's what you get for wearing and dress shirt and vest to a bar." Alfred said with a roll of his eyes, and moved to assist the other man. He unbuttoned his collar and tugged at the tie to help, but Arthur must have tied it wrong when he put it on because he only succeeded in pulling Arthur's neck closer. Arthur's hair slightly sweat damped hair was clinging to his flushed face. His body felt hot under his hands, and he was breathing somewhat loudly.

Alfred swallowed and bit down on his tongue. From this close, Arthur looked not just appealing. He looked...kinda hot.
Alfred licked his lower lip slightly, his mouth suddenly felt parched. His mind jumped back to the cigarette, seeing it again held in Arthur's thin lips. He had thought himself lucky getting that close before but now...

Just one. One kiss can't hurt. And hey, he had a perfect opportunity to blame it on the alcohol. It was almost a 'get out of jail free' card. Alfred steeled himself and leaned forward. It was a fleeting peck, he was hardly sure he had even made contact before retreating, and waited to be smacked by the other man for his actions. But nothing came. Arthur didn't seem to have noticed anything at all. He was lying against the door, head now tilled slightly towards his shoulder, and his eyes were closed.

Alfred frowned, and regretted his haste. He had been so nervous, he hardly even felt the fleeting touch, let alone enjoy the moment. And he had been so sure Arthur would have done something, said something. But he seemed obliviously off in LaLa Land. Maybe...Alfred moved in once more, before his nerves could kick in and kissed him again, letting his lips linger a moment longer. Arthur's lips remained inactive against his own and he withdrew again. Arthur's eyes twitched, but they didn't open. Still nothing? At least react, will ya? Getting frustrated now, Alfred huffed, grabbed hold of Arthur's collar and pulled him forward almost roughly. He kissed him again, soundly this time, pressing harder against him, trying to get some kind of reaction, reminding Arthur he was very much still there.

This time, Arthur noticed him, but his reaction was something he didn't predict.

"Mnn..." Arthur uttered a soft sound, his lips parted slightly, and pressed back, almost sleepily.

Well, that was unexpected, but Alfred wasn't going to start complaining. It felt good, kissing him like this. Pressing him against the door, fingers now following the tendons along his neck, hot mouth tasting slightly chapped lips. Feeling more confident, he kissed Arthur harder, moving his lips against his, pressing his body closer, feeling the warmth seep into the fibers of his clothing and into his skin. It was intoxicating, the heat seemed to be driven under his skin, and followed the length of his veins, filling his body. Something warm and wet tapped his lower lip, lightly tracing it.
Alfred pulled back, Arthur's open mouth followed not far behind. He sighed, releasing a puff of air, which mingled with Alfred's breathing. "America..." The Brit's eyes opened lazily, only able to reach half-mast, looking up at Alfred through his lashes. His eyes seemed faded and glossed over, and America's breath hitched, caught in his throat. Arthur's eyes were a faded Celadon, looking open, vulnerable and needy.

Alfred breathed deeply, feeling out of breath and light headed, forcing him to support his weight against his palms and forearms which were now placed on either side of the Island nations head. The way Arthur was looking at him, he just look so undeniably sexy, it caused Alfred's throat to tighten. This was not what he was expecting to happen when he had imagined kissing the other nation. He had thought that he would get a smack on the head, or a muttered laugh and a shove. Not...not a willing mouth attempting to devour him.

"America." Alfred shivered, feeling something warm slip under his bomber jacket. Arthur's hands felt hot, even as they traveled up his sides. He longed to feel them against his bare skin. Alfred leaned in again, but Arthur's hands slipped to his chest, stopping him. "Alfred, We shouldn't...not in the hallway."

Alfred blinked down at Arthur, unsure of what this meant. Was he saying this was...Was Arthur...inviting him in? "What do you suggest we do, then?" He asked carefully, finding himself holding his breath.

Arthur blinked at him, as if he should have known the answer. But Alfred had always been told he could never read the atmosphere before. Arthur scratched behind his ear and cast a hesitant look at his feet that was oddly adorable, and if Arthur let him, Alfred would have loved to smother him with a few more kisses. He shifted his weight against the door and suddenly produced his wallet, and a moment later the key card to his room was within his delicate fingers. "Would you like to come in?" Arthur asked him, holding out the key card.

Alfred looked back and forth between Arthur and the card, feeling torn. It was bad enough that he had kissed Arthur in the first place. It was bad enough that he had been making out with him like he was a moment ago. It was easier to play off one kiss to being drunk. But going into his hotel room? That was asking for more trouble and harder consequences. But Arthur's kisses were so wonderful, the heat between them so enjoyable. And Alfred's head had already been a little screwy from drinking himself. He was a lot closer to Earth than England, but his judgment was impaired, and not just from the Alcohol.

He leaned in and kissed Arthur again, taking the key card from him. He felt the Brit's arms come around his back, now free to do so, and kissed back with equal passion.

Alfred ran the key card through and fumbled with the door handle, trying to find it blind. When his hand finally found it, it turned easily, and swung inwards. The two tripped, nearly falling down, into the entryway. Alfred chuckled and Arthur answered with a laugh of his own, wrapping his arms around Alfred's shoulders and kissed him again. Alfred, still smiling against Arthur's mouth, kicked the door shut with his foot and moved farther into the hotel room, muttering apologizes, followed by more laughter when they ran into the side table next to the couch and again when they hit the far wall, turning on the hallway lights with a careless hand.

They settled there for a short time, Alfred taking this opportunity to remove his shoes, trying to pull them off by the heel with the use of his toes, while Arthur pulled at the collar of his shirt and reached up on his toes to place a heated kiss on his throat. Alfred voiced his approval, and pressed his pelvis into Arthur's with a shallow thrust, receiving a heated moan and a quick nip in return.

After he finally was able to remove his shoes, blindly kicking them backwards, Arthur pushed Alfred back, and pulled him down the hallway were they entered the bedroom, still entangled with one another. Alfred felt a moment of reason returning, knowing this probably was a good time to head back to his hotel himself and take a cold shower, but under the moonlight coming through the window, Arthur looked way to good to simply leave.

Alfred moved forward and kissed Arthur again, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist to draw him in closer, their bodies flush together again.

Arthur touched their foreheads together, arms draped over his shoulders and hanging down Alfred back and made a content purr. "Alfred.."

"Yeah, that's my name." Alfred joked, which earned him a soft laugh and a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

Arthur kissed him softly on the rim of his glasses, then, using his teeth; he pulled Texas off Alfred's face and smirked at him, giving the Superpower's heart a jumpstart.

With out a warning, Arthur pushed him, overcoming Alfred's balance, and he was tripped backwards. The fall wasn't far, and his back hit the mattress with a soft creak. He pushed himself up on his elbows, and looked up to see the sexiest thing he had ever, and would ever see, in his entire unnatural life: Arthur, moving up onto the bed, climbing up his body and between his raised thighs like a lioness, shoulder blades rolling, his eyes were ablaze with a new fire, and still holding Texas with his teeth. The light Alfred had turned on in the hallway lit his back, making Arthur appear to glow around the silhouette of his form.

Alfred was panting; his widened blue eyes meeting impossibly green orbs, faces tilled so close together, Arthur hovering over him with a hungry gaze. The whole scene seemed more surreal and dream-like by his slightly blurred vision. Lacking his glasses only magnified it. Alfred had never found himself responding to another man before, but after that, something was stirring in the south.

Alfred reached to take Texas back, but Arthur was quicker, and moved back. "Ah ah." He warned, and took the glasses in one hand, folding them carefully.

"I just want to put them somewhere out of the way. Promise." Alfred reassured.

Arthur gave him a somewhat skeptical look but he leaned left, and placed Texas gently down on the bedside dresser next to the decorative lamp.

Alfred watched this, and swallowed, liking the way Arthur's figure looked stretching like that above him. He let his hands travel up the Brit's sides, feeling the tension in the motion, and earned another noise from Arthur.

With Texas safe, the two returned to more pleasant activities. There lips met again, and Alfred couldn't help but melt. Arthur was now sitting on his hips, letting his weight press against him and fully engaging his body in the moment. His hands were playing with him, toying with the buttons of Alfred's shirt, spiraling in circles and let fingertips graze down his chest and flow over Alfred's abs.

It was intoxicating. The wet sounds their mouths were making was so erotic, it was making him go stiff. Arthur's mouth was opening and closing, and pushing against his in a dance, and it was all Alfred could do to keep up. Arthur's tongue made another appearance, brushing against his slightly parted lips for a moment and retreated. Alfred, in a desperate attempt, tried to do the same. He wasn't as smooth as Arthur, having a lot less practice at this sort of kissing, but Arthur seemed please with his initiative. The nation above him thrust his hips against him, and Alfred gasped aloud, tilting his head back, swearing loudly.

Arthur smiled slyly, seemingly delighted to have found something that caused such a reaction and did it again, running his tongue along the out rim of Alfred's ear.

A long moan was dragged from Alfred's open mouth, and he pushed his hips to meet Arthur's, needing more friction. He gripped Arthur's waist, pulling him into the motion. While his mouth was still open, Arthur descended upon him, kissing him harder, rolling his hips against him again, tongue tracing the rim of Alfred's teeth before a stealthy retreat. Arthur tilted his weight to one side, and in a sudden motion rolled to the side, used the momentum to pull Alfred on top of him.

Alfred would have blinked, had he not still been lip-locked with the nation now below him. He had started to enjoy the feeling of Arthur's weight against him, but this was good too. He continued to kiss him, using his tongue again and Arthur must have had the same idea because they met somewhere in the middle and Alfred moan loudly. He blushed deeply, embarrassed about how audible it had been, but Arthur didn't seem put off and massaged Alfred's tongue with his own, responding with a similar noise, perhaps to show him there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Arthur's mouth tasted faintly of alcohol which at first was a little unpleasant, but after a moment it only seem to intoxify Alfred more. Other than that, Arthur didn't really taste like anything. He didn't taste like the Brit's favorite tea, or scones, or any terrible thing Arthur had ever cooked. He tasted like a mouth. And that didn't bother him in the slightest.

They soon settled into a rhythm as Alfred became more comfortable. Tongues explored each others mouth's while hands did the same, tugging at one another's hair, their clothing, pulling them closer. Their bodies shifted and moved against one another in a slow grinding motion. The friction was beginning to spread heat all throughout Alfred's body, and his head was spinning, making him dizzy.

Alfred came up for air, oxygen flooding his lungs, and he leaned his head back, lips already feeling quite swollen from such attention. He breathed, just as Arthur did, the other nation now settling back against the pillows, taking a short break from ravaging the man above him. He stretched out, arms reaching above his head and made a content purring sound, and Alfred just watched him, eyeing down the male body below him before coming back up to meet those hazy green eyes. Like this, Arthur looked absolutely stunning.

Arthur's hands reached up, fingertips tracing Alfred's jawline and threaded their way through his hair. "Arthur I...I should go." This was getting to be too much. Hell, this was too much. 'Just one kiss' had turned into several heated make-out sessions and now Alfred was pressing the nation into the pillows. And Arthur was clearly way to drunk to understand the consequences of these actions.

"Stay. Please." Arthur's soft voice startled him. These were the first real words he had said since they had entered the hotel room. He was looking up at Alfred with a sweet glow in his eyes and a sadness filled Alfred at the thought of disappointing him.

"I can't. If I stay we...I'm going to..." Arthur's fingers wrapped around the locks of hair above his ears and pulled him down, drawing him in for another kiss. Despite what Alfred had just said, he couldn't help but kiss Arthur back, his toes curling as Arthur sucked on his lower lip. Arthur's fingers continued tugging at his hair, traveling around Alfred's skull, his hips shifting against him, making friction that was causing more problems.

"Ah!" Alfred's hips bucked forward on their own and his arms nearly buckled. Arthur's fingers had found a new target, Nantucket. He twirled it between his thumb and forefinger, abusing it shamelessly. Alfred tried to duck away, but Arthur's mouth followed his movements, and his teeth grazed his neck. "St-ah-op. You-mhm- have to stop." He tried to make them sound more demanding, trying to put more conviction in them, but they ended up sounding more breathy, and more needy. It was useless. Arthur didn't seem to hear him. He tugged Nantucket hard, and Alfred's face continued to darken in shades, Florida now standing at full salute. Arthur was sucking just bellow his earlobe, fingering Nantucket, and moving his hips against him, and Alfred's willpower was crumbling.

"Arthur...Mmmh..Please. We have to stop. Your-ahh...your drunk. You're...n-ah! Your not thinking straight." He said, as Arthur peppered his neck with red hickeys. "You don't know what your-" Arthur bit him hard, leaving teeth marks, and Alfred gasped, hips coming forward again, and Arthur pushed back, creating more of that insatiable friction. "This isn't right. This is..." Hot. It was so hot. Arthur's mouth, his breath, his fingertips and hands. Arthur's hand trailing down the buttons of his shirt, tracing a line along his abdomen. Alfred's face, neck, his whole body felt ablaze. The tension in his body had built up to be nearly unbearable, and the friction felt so good, so relieving.

Although this was everything Alfred needed, it was not quite what he wanted. As much as he was loving this, Arthur was drunk, and he himself was a little over his own limit to make a reasonable and reliable decision. This was a bad idea, and he needed to do something soon. I'll go back to my hotel room and take a cold shower. His hips thrust against Arthur and suddenly the Briton had a hold of him through his pants.

"Fuck!" Oh...that felt good. Alfred's head dropped, his forehead pressed against Arthur's chest, against his rapidly beating heart. Okay, new plan. I'll go back to my hotel room and take a hot shower and jerk off to this. The Island nation was now stroking him through his pants, and squeezing gently, driving Alfred mad.

"Arthur." He moaned, and thrust against the warm hand of his former caretaker as Arthur's other hand abandoned Nantucket to draw circles along the back of his neck with his nails, causing an endless wave of shudders to run the length of his body. It was too hot. It was hurting him now, this bottled up need. "Ah...Mhm..." He wasn't going to last. Alfred was unraveling, seams slipped and popped. "Ooh." Just when Alfred thought Arthur was out of tricks he did something else.

"AH!" Alfred yelped, and groaned loudly in pleasure. Arthur had Nantucket in his mouth and wrapped his tongue around it, sucking, a jolt shot straight down his spine to the deep south and that was the last of it, Alfred was undone. He moved hard against Arthur's hand, fucking it mindlessly. He gasped and moved to kiss Arthur hard, bruising his lips, hands gripping at whatever he could reach first which ended up being Arthur's hair. He tugged it harshly; causing the Island nation to hiss, but Alfred swallowed it. Alfred moaned loudly into Arthur's mouth, and he wasn't ready when the moment arrived. He came hard with a startled cry, and gasped Arthur's name into the nation's mouth.

Every single muscle in his body tightened up and flashed hotly, a deep inhalation of breath caught in his expanded lungs, every synapse in his brain firing away. Every single cell in his body coiled up like a crushed spring, everything tense.

And then everything released in one breath, and his arms collapsed and he was suddenly dead weight. All of his will power cracked and reduced to a twitching trembling puddle as his body tried to recover. He breathed deeply, his lungs parched for air and his chest heaving, and yet, he couldn't seem to draw deep enough. He laid there, Arthur still drawing organic shapes, now along his shoulder blades.

When he tried to push himself up, he failed miserably. Instead, he settled for raising his head. Arthur's eyes were closed, his lips muttering something. Alfred claimed them with his own, still coming down from his high. Arthur kissed him back, digging his fingernails into his skin.

In all of his previous sexual escapades, which were a very short list considering most of them the self-loving variety, none could really compare with this. None had ever taken so much out of him or had him feel so complete.
His own needs fulfilled, Alfred noticed Arthur's pressed against his thigh. Able to push himself up by now, Alfred hovered over the smaller figure, eyeing down his (drunkenly) flushed face, loosen collar, the three buttons at his collar that were still undone, and down to the exposed slice of smooth pale skin at his hip.

"Alfred..." Arthur sighed; his hands crept down to Alfred's wrists. His eyes were open now, staring down at him, making Alfred swallow hard. With that flushed face of his, Arthur could inspire anyone to fall for him. Even his eyebrows seem to enhance his expressions. Arthur had an angels face with a devil's charm.

Arthur had given him so much attention; it would be cruel to deny him some of the same. Alfred pulled away from Arthur's hands and placed a hesitant hand on his knee. Arthur's eyes never left his as his hand traced a line down, until he could feel Arthur through the fabric of his dress pants.

"Ahh..." Arthur's eyes slipped closed and his back arched up as Alfred's hand moved against him. "Alfred..." One of his hands slipped down his leg, and retreated up past his pelvis and up the center of his chest and rested over his eyes loosely. "America.."

"I like you." Alfred blinked, not realizing he had said those words aloud.

He liked Arthur, he always had. Even as a young colony, Alfred had harbored a hidden crush on his caretaker. It had never been a big deal, and it had always been manageable. He had been satisfied with holding Arthur's hand and sitting in his lap when he read him stories. But as he grew older, his crush had grown stronger, and began to grow harder to contain. And the things that had been acceptable as a child were not It had been taken well when he aged. England looked down on certain behaviors, and America had to watch himself and how he acted.

It was partly for that reason, that he had wanted to separate from him, to no longer be seen as a little brother to England. If they weren't brothers than maybe….He thought if Arthur saw him as an equal, something else could form between them. But he was wrong. Breaking away from Arthur had severed them completely, and ruined any chance that they could be together. "Arthur. I like you." He said, more sure of himself this time. Truth was, he was always sure.

"I like you." Arthur repeated quietly, followed by a soft exhale.

Ba-Dump. Alfred's chest swelled, as he breathed in sharply. "Again. Say it again."

"I like you." Arthur's head fell back and he moaned loudly as Alfred continued to stroke him.

Alfred closed his eyes, savoring the sound of those words coming off Arthur's tongue in that sexy accent. He never wanted to forget the sound of those beautiful words. "Arthur."

"I like you."

He lean forward and kissed the nape of Arthur's neck. Then after a moment's pause, he sucked on his throat, leaving his own mark to remember, and Arthur's arched into it. "I love you."

"I like you."

"I love you." Alfred pressed, trying to will Arthur to repeat him. "I love you, Arthur."

Arthur's hips moved in time with Alfred's movements, moaning loudly, not stiffling or censoring his voice. "...I love you, Alfred."

His stomach fluttered and he kissed Arthur hard, letting himself believe for a moment that Arthur meant those words. That he wasn't saying them because he was drunk, because Alfred was stroking him, pushing him to the edge. He needed this. This one moment, he needed to believe.

It didn't take long for Arthur to end up in a somewhat similar state as Alfred had been. His back arched, fingers groping for Alfred's hair, his neck, his collar, anything he could get his hands on. When he unraveled, his mouth was open and Alfred swallowed his cries with greed. As Arthur fell from the heights Alfred had pushed him to, he sighed, falling back against the bed. "Mmn...Alfred..." he hissed softly.

"I love you." Alfred nipped Arthur's collarbone. "I love you." He kissed the red mark on Arthur's pale neck. "I love you." He kissed up his jawline. "I-" He pulled back, staring down at the man under him.

He was lying abnormally still, his chest rising and falling in a slow and steady rate, his eyes resting peacefully closed.

Arthur was already asleep.

Alfred stared down at him, rendered completely immobile. The weight of the situation came down on him in an instant, and he flinched hard. "I...Oh God..." He pushed himself off the bed, distancing himself from the sleeping nation, his mind coming to terms with what had just happened. He had just taken advantage of Arthur. Arthur had been helpless, and he had just... "Oh God." He repeated, and bolted. He had just helped himself to Arthur's body and was now standing in the wake of disaster. If or when Arthur woke up and remember what they had done, he was a dead man.
Alfred reached the doorframe, nearly tripping through it, but stopped short of leaving the room. He looked back and Arthur's sleeping form. He couldn't leave him like that. But if he woke up the next morning to find Alfred gone, would it make the situation worse? It was hard to tell if leaving now would help or hurt. Either decision could get him an extra beating the next morning.

Alfred paced the floor, pulling at his hair; nearly making a decision, then stopped and went back to pacing. In the end, he sat next to Arthur, letting out a long and regretting sigh. He smoothed his hair, brushing the blonde strands out of his eyes. Arthur's hair was a lot softer than he ever remembered it being. At the moment, it was slightly damp from sweat, and it was messy, no doubt from Alfred's tugging. He continued to stroke it carefully, putting each strand back into place, while trying to enjoy it for probably the last time.

"I'm sorry. Please forget." He asked, knowing that Arthur couldn't hear him. Swallowing the last of his pride, he unbuttoned Arthur's shirt, and removed it, knowing that Arthur hated sleeping fully clothed on hotter nights. His fingers felt hot, seemingly sucking the warmth from the unconscious body. He couldn't help stealing a glance at his bare chest. Arthur lacked the larger muscle tone that Alfred had, but that didn't mean he was all skin and bones. He still had a strength to him, his thinner frame holding more lean muscles.

Alfred resists the urge to run his fingers along the pale skin, and instead traced it with his eyes, memorizing the different patterns of soft pale scars that lined his crush's chest. Alfred often wondered where most of them came from. Some of them he recognized; the gash on his right side from the Revolutionary War, a dozen scraps from the trench war and a few circular scars from bullets during World War 1, and a burn mark from the Battle of Britain in World War 2. But it surprised him how many he didn't know anything about; he mark on his left shoulder, a bullet wound below a collar bone, and many others.

Arthur was a lot older, and had seen more wars and hardships than him, and much of his old life was still a mystery to him. And it made sense that he should have the memories of old events carved into his flesh. Alfred himself was already scarred with his own past. Every nation wore his wounds as reminders of their sometimes-violent histories.
Alfred shook himself, and return to the task at hand. He folded Arthur's shirt neatly, and after a moment he decided to leave the man's pants on, not trusting himself. He drew the covers up to his neck and tucked him in lovingly. He didn't allow himself anything more. He longed to steal one more kiss from him but he stood up. He didn't deserve it, after what he had done.

After that, he knew he needed to change his clothes. His pants were still soiled, and that was not something he could face with Arthur the next morning. He picked Texas up for the desk, and borrowed some pajama pants and a shirt from Arthur. After that he shut the door quietly and went to the bathroom. He took the hottest shower he could, and when he ran out of hot water, he turned it as cold as it would go.

He ended up lying on a makeshift bed of a spare blanket and his bomber jacket as a pillow on the couch that was a little to small for him in the living room, his feet sitting up on the arm rest. There he lay, staring at the ceiling, trying to come up with a way to apologize to Arthur, a way to make things right between them, though he knew it was impossible. He still hadn't come up with anything when sleep claimed him, and he fell into an endless empty dream.

~ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo~

Closing notes:

Thanks for reading! If you like it, feel free to comment. If you didn't, feel free to comment, and tell me why. I hope to have the second half up soon!