A/N: Hey guys! Second chapter now! Wow, I really wasn't expecting so many follows and favourites and reviews right off the bat, so thanks a bunch to everyone who did so~! And now, without further ado, enjoy!


And when Alfred found the door open a bit, he groaned. Arthur could be such an annoying douche when he was so stubborn. He'd probably left it open to screw with the American.

But then he walked closer and saw it was broken. His eyes went wide. He dropped the bag of food by the door, along with his pack of shitty (in his opinion) British candy.

"ARTHUR?!" There were bottles on the table and he disregarded the note Arthur had written because he knew the Brit hadn't had enough time to get violently drunk, if the many full bottles were anything to go by.

And then he found the screwed up, bloodied feather. His eyes widened more, if that was even possible, and his heart stopped.

He noticed the sunflowers next.

"That motherfucking communist." he growled. He quickly picked up the feather and stuck it in his pocket before running to Ivan's house and hoping the bastard was at home.


Arthur was tied on his stomach on a bed in a small, dark room. His wrists and ankles were secured to each of the bedposts and his wings were sticking up in the air. The toga skirt rode dangerously high on his backside, for Ivan had stripped him of his pants the moment they'd arrived at the huge, cold house. The other man had claimed it was 'to see all of the angelic splendour', but had luckily done no more than take the pants away. For now.

Ivan circled the bed, smiling innocently. "This bed has been empty since Lithuania left..." The Russian looked sad as he leaned over and ripped a few more feathers out. "I wonder if they will grow back...?" He stroked the base of one of the wings and gave it a light tug. "Let's find out, da?"

Arthur gasped, fear pooling in his stomach. "N-No! Don't you bloody dare, Ivan!"

Ivan only smiled wider. He positioned his large hands on each side of the wing, and prepared to pull.


Alfred found the house soon, and as he approached it, he gave it every insult he could think of. Ugly house. Ew. Disgusting. Fuck.

Yeah, he was running out.

But he stopped by the door. Knocking probably wouldn't help, he had a feeling. But the windows were too high up for him to try and climb, and he most likely would hurt himself if he did try to get up to them.

So he did knock, rapping on the door as loudly and obnoxiously as he could manage, so he could hear the echo back.


Ivan sighed and released Arthur, who nearly fainted with relief. He was safe, at least for a little while longer. Muttering curses, Ivan made his way down and threw the door open.

"Da?" His mood soured when he saw who it was, but he didn't let the change show on his face. "What do you want?"

"Where the fuck is he, fucker?!" Alfred stabbed a pointer finger into the Russian's chest.

"Where is who?" Ivan kept his smile the same, but pointedly removed the finger from his chest. "I don't know who you're looking for."

Alfred put the finger right back. "Don't fuck with me, dumbass. Where?"

Ivan looked confused. "I really don't know who you mean."

Alfred glared at him. "Stop it, you won't convince me."

"Amerika, if you don't tell me, then I can't help you. Go bother someone else." Ivan started closing the door.

Alfred slid his foot right in between the door and its frame, pushing it open forcefully with his knee. "England. What'd you do to England?"

"Angliya? Did he go missing?"

"...I will kill you. Where'd you put him?"

Ivan shrugged. "I don't have him."

"Ivan, we've been rivals since I came to the world and you became a pain in the ass. M'not stupid. Where?"

Arthur had recognized Alfred's loud voice by now. "AMERICA!" he yelled, but he wasn't sure the American would hear him. Ivan's house was very big.

Alfred frowned a bit when he heard a voice echo faintly through the house. He could barely hear it, but he was sure that he'd heard something. He glared at Ivan, waiting for an answer.

Ivan cocked his head, and for a second, his expression darkened. "One of my servants is calling for me. You need to leave." He forcefully pushed Alfred out and slammed the door shut.

"Fucking-" Alfred regained his balance and drove his shoulder into the door. "You fuck! Let me in, or I'll get in!"

Ivan didn't respond, being already halfway to the room. He glared at Arthur when he entered. "You should not have called out." he growled, and ripped yet more feathers out.

Alfred took little time in taking down the door. He'd seen enough movies and practiced enough to know how to roundhouse kick the lock. But unlike in the movies, the lock didn't move, and he had to rub the side of his shoe, cursing under his breath as the pain started to beat through it.

Finally, he used his strength to simply break through. "ENGLAND?!"

Ivan leaned in close to his prisoner. "Don't say a word, da?" he whispered into Arthur's ear.

The Brit whimpered and thrashed around a bit, but there wasn't much else he could do, and he stayed silent.

"Fuck." Alfred guessed second floor immediately, and he cautiously opened every door he came across, briefly glancing in before moving on. "Art! Please tell me you're okay?! Art!"

Arthur finally couldn't take it. "ALFRED!"

Ivan slapped him harshly, cursing. He tossed a heavy blanket over the angel and sat on the bed, pipe at the ready. He waited.

Alfred immediately went after the sound, heart pounding. He growled again when he saw Ivan sitting on the bed. "You mother fucker."

Ivan smiled, leaning back and propping himself up on his arm. His arm, which was conveniently covering up Arthur's mouth, preventing him from making a sound. "Privyet, Amerika. It's rude to barge into someone's house uninvited, no?"

"Fuck you. Where is he?!"

"Where is who?" Ivan asked, increasing the pressure on his arm as Arthur started to thrash around again.

"Art?!" Alfred saw the blanket moving around a bit, but he was frozen in his spot, not wanting Ivan to hurt him. "Let him go."

"But he's so interesting..." Ivan picked up a feather and twirled it between his fingers. "I'm surprised you haven't experimented on him yet. You have so many scientists in your nation..."

Arthur stilled beneath the blanket, both from lack of oxygen and the words.

Alfred's eyes widened a bit, and he gritted his teeth harshly, fingers curling into fists. "Get the fuck off him. Don't touch those." He swallowed as he realized there were more than a few feathers lying around, all of them bloodied like the one he had in his pocket.

"Or you will do what?" Ivan's eyes glinted with a challenge.

Alfred growled deeply. "I'll kill you, get off now."

Ivan bounced a bit on the bed. His childish smile was back now. "I quite like it here. My house, my rules."

"Don't fuck with me, Ivan. Go fuck yourself."

"I'd much rather play with Angliya." The smile turned sinister, and Ivan pulled the blanket down just enough for him to run a hand through Arthur's hair. Oh, yes, he was having fun now.

Alfred gritted his teeth more, nails digging into his palms. "Don't touch him. Get away from him."

Ivan patted the hair down. "I don't think so." He, very carefully, extended one of the wings and plucked a single feather, his eyes on Alfred the whole time.

Arthur whimpered uncontrollably again.

Alfred did his best to keep calm and glare at the Russian, but Arthur's whimper shot right through his shield of self-restraint. "Get the fuck away from him, last chance."

Ivan tilted his head. "Or you'll do what?" He wiped the blood off the feather and smeared it onto Arthur's cheek.

Alfred couldn't take it anymore. He strode over to him and grabbed a handful of his coat, heaving him up off the bed and forcing his back against a wall. "Don't fucking touch him, I said."

Ivan pressed back. "I didn't listen." He swung his pipe around and slammed it into Alfred's ribs.

"No sh- fuck!" Alfred winced, but tightened his grip on Ivan's coat. He grabbed onto the pipe with his free hand and forced it away.

"You left him once, long ago." Ivan said quietly, his voice full of innocence. "It would be very easy to leave him again..." He twisted the pipe out of Alfred's grip and drove it into his stomach.

Alfred puffed his cheeks out slightly, and swallowed with a hard glare. He was thinking of a response when his hand got burned and he grunted, letting go of Ivan so he could focus on getting the pipe away.

Ivan looped the end of his scarf around Alfred's neck and pulled it tight.

"Ack!" Alfred choked, grabbing the scarf and trying to pull it off, managing to land a hard kick to Ivan's stomach.

The Russian doubled over from the kick, but in the process was able to tighten the scarf even more.

Alfred choked again, his knees starting to go weak. He struggled to pull the scarf away, but didn't have much luck.

"Leave him, Amerika." Ivan managed to choke out, his breathing still labored because of the kick. "Just walk away."

"N...N-No." Alfred managed to breathe back. He was finally able to move the scarf away from his neck, just long enough to take a deep breath and quickly utter more words. "A-Arthur, are you okay?"

Ivan violently jerked the scarf tighter.

Arthur watched the scene with wide eyes, but couldn't to anything because of the restraints. "A-Alfred... Ivan, stop this!"

The Russian jerked the scarf again. "Nyet."

Alfred fell to his knees, his fingers loosing some circulations as he still tried loosening the scarf around his neck. His face lost some color, his eyes going wide. He never stopped trying to pry the scarf away, though his efforts were greatly weakened.

"Ivan, let him go! Do whatever the bloody hell you want to me, but leave him the hell alone!" Arthur shouted, his eyes hard.

Ivan abruptly undid the scarf and pushed Alfred away, watching the American fall to the floor. He fixed the scarf around his own neck. He turned and walked to the bed, the smile back on his face. "I knew you would see things my way eventually, Angliya."

Alfred shook a bit on the ground, coughing and almost wheezing. But once his sight wasn't fuzzy anymore, he put a shaky arm on the ground and did his best to get himself up. "Don't." he choked out.

Ivan turned to look at him contemptuously. "There is nothing you can do about it." He ran the tip of the pipe down Arthur's cheek.

Arthur trembled and his eyes darted to Alfred, pleading him for help. 'Hit him when he's focused on me.' Those green eyes seemed to say. He hoped Alfred got the message.

But Alfred's eyes were more on Ivan, watching him closely. He looked to his pipe for just one second, and then tackled him. As Ivan fell to the ground, he kicked the pipe away and straddled him to keep his arms down. He breathed heavily, glaring harshly down at him. "I fuckin' can."

Ivan mockingly laughed at him. "Forever the hero, eh Amerika?"

Alfred grinned a bit, surprised at his laugh. "Fer' ever. An' it's America. Gotta say it more free-like."

"There is no freedom in your country anymore." Ivan shot back. "All your precious democratic government wants is money."

"Yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself with your communist shit." Alfred grabbed the pipe and slammed it against Ivan's head, effectively knocking him out. "Art?"

Arthur exhaled slowly with relief once Ivan was out of it. "Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.

Alfred got up slowly, mainly because he was still weak. He immediately hugged Arthur as tightly as he could manage, burying his face in the Brit's shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked hoarsely.

"Nevermind me, what about you?" Arthur couldn't twist his neck around far enough to see him, so he settled on resting his cheek on the pillow.

"M'fine." Alfred muttered as softly as he could. His voice would have been strained if any higher. He reached out and slowly worked to undo Arthur's restraints, fingers fumbling with the tightly tied rope.

Arthur winced. "Careful, careful..." he murmured.

"Sorry." Alfred said softly, and finally got one wrist free, before moving on to the other.

Arthur brought the arm to his side, groaning softly as the blood rushed back into it. "Thank you..." he said quietly.

"Don't thank me Artie. M'sorry." He got Arthur's ankles free a few moments later.

"What are you sorry for?"

"Not coming sooner."

"Idiot. Thank you for coming at all." Arthur paused. "But err...if you could get off me? You're crushing my wing."

"Oi, sorry." Alfred pulled off him, throwing the rope onto Ivan. He winced slightly at the movement, and lightly held his neck.

"Oh, Alfred." Arthur twisted around and ever so gently caressed the American's neck, his eyes creased with worry. "What did he do to you?"

Alfred shook his head. "M'fine, nothing. Are you okay?" He ignored the marks on his neck, and probably bruises on his stomach.

Arthur glared at him for a moment before concentrating. His fingertips lit up with a soft white glow, and the marks around Alfred's neck disappeared, as did his other injuries. "The good thing about this body is that my magic is stronger." he said, smiling and shaking out his bloodied wings.

Alfred blinked and reached up with this hand to check if the marks really were gone. "What? Why'd you do that?"

"That's a stupid question. You were hurt, so I healed you."

"That was stupid. Change it back."

"Idiot. I can't, it's already done." Arthur shrugged. "I don't see the problem- you're not in pain anymore."

"S'not very heroic ta go off the easy way like that...You should heal yourself, Art."

Arthur smiled sadly. "It doesn't work on me. I can only heal others."

"N-No way! At all? What if...channel it to me!"

"No, not at all. That's just how the Angel works. Always giving, never taking for himself." Arthur paused. "How would channeling it through you work?"

"Like...switch it out! Saw it in movies n' stuff. You just take energy from me to help yourself a bit, and gimme your pain."

"Just because you saw it in movies doesn't mean it will work." Arthur shook his head. "No. I refuse to do that. It wouldn't work anyway."

"Try it. Please."

"No. I just took your pain away, I won't give it right back to you. Let's just get out of here. He might wake up soon."

"Please, Artie. Please." Alfred gave him a wide-eyed look.

Arthur averted his gaze. "N-No, Alfred. I refuse. I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

Alfred was confident is mind wasn't going to change. "Please."

"A-Alfred, don't make me do this. It won't work, and I don't know what will happen."

"Please."

Arthur sighed and pressed his hands to Alfred's shoulders. He sent the energy violently onto the other person, and with no surprise, it backfired. Arthur winced as he was pushed back, his palms stinging.

Alfred blinked, feeling something for a split second. "...Ow. You needa concentrate and not be so mean!"

"I was concentrating, and that was not mean."

"...Are you sure, Art? Please."

"I'm sure. It won't work."

"...S'there nothing else?"

"No. Just leave it, Alfred. Let's get out of here."

"Art, please, there has to be something."

"Leave it, Alfred." Arthur said forcefully.

"Arthur! Please! It's important to me!"

"Why?!"

"It's important!"

"No. It doesn't work that way, I told you before. I can only take others' pain and suffering into myself, I can't give mine away." Arthur stood and made his way to the door. "Are you coming?"

"Art come on, magic, there has to be something!" Alfred got up and followed, but winced as he stepped on a few of the bloody feathers. "...Um...wait for me by the front door?"

Arthur gave him a curious glance, but nodded. "Along the way, if you could find something for me to cover myself with..." He gestured to the toga and exposed wings before leaving.

Alfred nodded, not moving from his spot for a moment, long enough for him to be sure that Arthur was gone.

He proceeded to tie Ivan up and drag him into the closet, locking him in there. That's what he got, ha! He then turned back to the bed. The feathers were everywhere, and all of them were bloody. He swallowed and tried not to think what the Russian had done to Arthur. He knelt down and gently picked up all of them into a nice collection.

Arthur slowly walked to the door, trying to ignore the pain in his wings. He glanced behind him and noticed he was leaving a blood trail. Probably from all those ripped feathers. He felt bad for Ivan's maid, but since it was his own blood, he couldn't do anything about it. He finally got to the front door and waited patiently for Alfred, occasionally looking around to see if anyone else was there.

Once he'd picked up all of the feathers, Alfred left the room. He swallowed again, feeling more horrible for Arthur. Right before he joined the Brit at the door, finding his way courtesy of the blood trail, he opened a closet and took out a cloak. "...Here."

Arthur took it and put it on, pulling it tight to cover everything. "This will look odd..." he muttered. "What were you doing in there?"

"I just..." Alfred lowered his arms a little bit, to show all the feathers he held.

Arthur smiled sadly at them. "Thank you... While I appreciate you collecting them all, you should have left them." he said gently. But it meant a lot to him that Alfred had picked them all up. It really did.

Alfred shook his head. "I'm...not letting him have the pleasure of keeping them." He seemed to hug the feathers a bit more to himself. "Art, before we go..."

Arthur really didn't know what to say to the first statement. He'd already said 'thank you'... "What is it?" he asked instead.

"...What happened?"

"What happened when?"

"...When I wasn't there. How'd he get you?"

"He...He came a few minutes after you'd left. He saw me, Alfred. He saw when I was flying. Thought I'd make a nice new toy." Arthur swallowed and looked down. "So he came. There's not much I can do against him. He brought me here, tied me up in Lithuania's old bed, and plucked the feathers out." He wasn't sure if he should continue, but he forced himself to. "He- He was going to rip the whole wing out, but then you knocked..."

Alfred put the feathers in any pocket he could manage so he could wrap his arms around Arthur, cautious of his wings, and hug him tightly.

Arthur was surprised, but he didn't pull away. After a moment, he slowly put his arms around Alfred's waist in return. "A-Alfred? What's this for?" he questioned.

Alfred shook slightly and he swallowed, trying to keep his voice straight. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Arthur hugged him a bit tighter, feeling his shaking. "Shh, shh, it's not your fault. It's okay, nothing serious happened. I'm fine. Shh..."

Alfred shook more, and he gripped him a bit tighter. He would have liked to hold him even tighter, but though his injuries were gone, he was still weak. "H-He hurt you!"

"You didn't know, Alfred. You saved me from the worst of it." Arthur said, patting Alfred's back lightly.

As more of his strength returned, Alfred was able to grip Arthur tighter yet again, and he buried his eyes in the crook of the Brit's neck. "Does it hurt?"

Arthur hesitated. "A little bit. But nothing I can't live with." he said quickly. "Please, Alfred, it's alright, it really is."

"...How...how long has he hurt you? Before I came?"

Arthur glanced at a clock nearby on the wall. "He had me tied up for about forty-five minutes." He lightly nuzzled against Alfred, and his own arms tightened around the American's waist.

"Oh my god...!"

"It wasn't that bad. For the first few minutes, he just started at me."

Alfred growled softly and hugged him to himself more. "And then...he pulled...them out?"

Arthur was surprised again at the strength of the hug, but he still didn't push away. "Yes. And then he...he ripped them out."

Alfred swallowed again. "Let's...let's go to your house, Art."

"You have to let go first, love." Arthur let his arms drop to his sides.

Alfred blushed and still hesitated for a few seconds, before slowly letting go.

"Thank you." Pulling the cloak still tighter around himself, Arthur carefully opened the door.

Alfred took Arthur's hand and held it as he walked out with him, not giving a shit about leaving the door wide open.

Arthur glanced at their linked hands, but didn't say anything about it. He squeezed lightly and sidestepped closer to Alfred, feeling safer the closer he was to him. He glanced around nervously at the people the passed, half-expecting to be taken again at any moment.

Alfred squeezed back lightly, and anyone who looked at Arthur for too long he'd fix with a horrible death glare, forcing them to turn away and quicken their step. The second they got home, he locked the surprisingly intact front door.

As soon as he stepped into the house, Arthur felt a little bit better. He tugged lightly on their hands, waiting for Alfred to let go.

Alfred still wouldn't, not until the door was locked for sure. He then let go and started locking all the windows on the ground floor, making one hundred percent sure they were secure. He finally pulled all the blinds down.

"Alfred, I must insist this is all completely unnecessary." Arthur protested lightly, but watched him with some amusement.

"No I...no." Alfred was still a bit pale, and he didn't stop, even moving a book case in front of the door. The dark outside showing through the glass was creepy as fuck.

"The bookshelf? Really? Alfred, we're fine." Arthur moved towards him and touched him lightly on the shoulder. "It's alright now, we're fine."

"No, Art!" Alfred glanced back at him with wide eyes, before shaking it off. He hesitated again, glancing at the book case and keeping his eyes on it. "Are you hungry?" he asked softly.

"Alfred, you're being paranoid." Arthur replied, just as softly. The amusement had left him. "It's honestly starting to scare me..."

"Are ya hungry?"

"No. If...If you're up to it, can you do me one favour?"

"Yeah?"

"Could-" Arthur paused and looked up, searching Alfred's face for a moment. "Could you wash off my wings? With warm water? It'll help the feathers grow back if the...blood is gone."

Alfred nodded immediately. "I...I was gonna bandage them if you weren't hungry...I'll bandage them after, okay?"

"Yes, that's fine." Arthur walked quickly to the bathroom and settled down on the toilet in a way that would leave Alfred easy access to the wings. He stared at the tiled wall before him and concentrated on his breathing.

Alfred followed and knelt down by the bathtub, turning the faucet on. He waved a hand through the stream of water and kept moving the knob around to get the perfect definition of warm.

Arthur let out a sigh and waited, listening to the faint splashes behind him. "It doesn't have to be perfect, you know. Any warm will do."

Alfred ignored him, and when it was finally perfect, he got up to take a towel. But he decided against it, thinking that the towel would probably hurt. So he knelt down again and got his own hand wet before gently reaching out to touch Arthur's right wing.

Out of instinct, Arthur recoiled the wing as soon as Alfred had touched it. "S-Sorry." Taking a deep breath, he extended it back to how it was before.

The moment Arthur moved, Alfred pulled his hand back to himself, and then he hesitated. He didn't want to hurt him, or even have Arthur think that he was getting hurt. So he put his right hand to Arthur's and gently held it. "Can I?"

Arthur glanced back at him over his shoulder. His eyes were slightly guarded, but he nodded. "Yes."

Alfred reached out and very softly stroked Arthur's wing, his fingers ghosting over the feathers, just so Arthur could get used to it.

Arthur stiffened slightly, but then reminded himself that this was Alfred, not Ivan, and he leaned into the touch.

Alfred smiled when Arthur leaned a bit closer, and upon getting more warm water onto his hands, he gently reached out to pull a thumb across the soft line of blood on the Brit's cheek.

Arthur blushed and looked away, moving his face out of reach. "Alfred, the wings."

Alfred blushed too, and he lowered his hand slowly. "I just...the bl..." He went silent and swallowed again, before quietly starting to wash the wings out.

Arthur raised a hand to his face, and it came away red. "I see. I can get that myself though." He rubbed the blood off with his arm, but he had no mirror so he didn't see that he missed a spot up high on his cheekbone.

Alfred glanced up throughout his washing, and after a few moments couldn't help but reach up to brush away the remainder of the blood.

"T-Thank you." Arthur murmured, ducking his head quickly.

Alfred rapidly pulled his hand away. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong." Arthur said automatically.

Alfred didn't reply, once again silently washing the remainder of the blood away. The silence stretched out between them.

"...Are you done?" Arthur asked a while later, finally breaking it.

"Yeah...I'm just gonna dry them off, okay?"

"Alright. Carefully, though."

"...I wouldn't do anything else." Alfred muttered softly as he picked up the towel and brushed it against the soaked wings.

The feathers fluffed up immediately once they were dry, much like a little chick's would. Arthur caught sight of them and groaned, burying his face in his hands.

A smile broke out across Alfred's face and he laughed softly before leaning in to nuzzle his cheek against them. "Wow, they're so soft!"

"They're so bloody...fluffy." Arthur muttered, his cheeks turning scarlet at the nuzzling.

Alfred smiled wider and breathed out softly, the wings feeling sooooo nice. "Fluffffffy and niceeeee."

Arthur shuddered as the breath tickled him. "I-If you're quite done molesting my wings..."

"O-Oi, I'm not!" Alfred blushed a bit, but still kept his cheek against them.

"Of course you're not. What was I thinking?" Arthur asked. "Because that isn't strange at all."

Alfred huffed. "They're nice, Arthur."

"They're been a damn nuisance the whole day. But...I suppose they are a bit pretty."

"Really nice and pretty."

Arthur flapped them slightly, disturbing Alfred a bit. "Alright, alright. Enough with the wing-rape. You were going to bandage them?"

Alfred blinked and moved back from them, still blushing. "...Alright, fucking sorry." He sighed to himself and got up to grab some bandages and a little bottle from the mirror. He then came back to his previous spot and knelt down next to him.

Arthur lowered his head. He had meant the words lightly, but apparently Alfred thought differently. The wings drooped and fell listlessly to the ground. He started at the floor and waited for him to start the bandaging.

Alfred did and gently put some gauze on the worst spots he found before wrapping them up. Once he was done, the wings had a few spots that were bandaged up, but other than that, the feathers were still free. "There."

"Thank you." Arthur said quietly, not moving.

Alfred sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. That had taken a bit of work. "Art...you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Arthur stood up and quickly left the bathroom, muttering another quick 'thank you' on his way out.

Alfred frowned softly and reached out after him, but he was gone by then. He slowly lowered the hand back to his lap. Well, great. He sighed and washed his hands in the water, which had now turned cold, before turning it off entirely.

Arthur settled down on the couch, careful to keep his back as steady as possible. He put a blanket over his legs and waited.

Alfred got up and washed his hands again in the warm water of the sink, and hesitated before washing his face as well. He then trailed to the living room, where he found the Brit. "Arthur?"

Arthur fixed the blanket around him and glanced up. "Yes?"

"...Shouldn't you go to sleep like...in the bedroom?"

"I'm not that tired yet." Arthur replied, shrugging.

"...Are you sure? It was a long day."

"I wouldn't be able to fall asleep now anyway."

"Why?"

"Would you be able to sleep after that?" Arthur let out an involuntary shudder. It was really dark out now, and the book case blocking the door suddenly didn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Alfred looked down a bit. "...No...but...I'm here, you know?"

Arthur shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Will you...Can you sleep with me, then?" he finally asked. "Just for tonight." he added quickly. "Just because...you know...Ivan."

Alfred blinked at him, and then nodded. "Yeah. Course I will."

Arthur nodded shortly back at him, still strung up pretty high. He got up and padded up to his room. He paused when he saw the bed, but steeled himself and gingerly lay down on it.

Alfred went around and made sure the window was locked and the blinds were down, before locking the bedroom door. He got into bed next to Arthur and didn't hesitate to scoot over to him and wrap his arms around him. He pulled him closer so he could protectively lean over him a bit and rest his chin on the top of his head.

Arthur twisted around in his arms so he was facing him, his wings spread out over the bed behind him. He used Alfred's upper arm as a pillow and slowly started to relax.

Alfred breathed softly and kept him close to his chest. "Art?"

"Yes? What is it?"

"Are you scared?" he asked quietly.

"Not as much now." Arthur admitted. "Not when you're here..."

Alfred smiled. "Good, and don't be...hero's here for you!"

Arthur nuzzled to his chest. "My hero..." he whispered, so quietly that it was barely heard.

Alfred smiled at him. He'd heard it, but he closed his eyes and pretended that he hadn't. "G'night."

"Good night, Alfred." Arthur closed his eyes as well, but he was still tense, so he couldn't fall asleep for a long time.

Alfred refused to fall asleep until Arthur did, so he easily noticed that Arthur wasn't really falling asleep. So he tucked them both in, pushing the covers closer and more comfortably to the smaller man. He gently rubbed circles into his back to loosen him up and breathed in a soft, normal rhythm to get him to hopefully feel better.

Arthur started at all the sudden movement, and he clutched Alfred tighter for a moment. But the moment passed and he slowly found himself relaxing. His mind slowly slowed and sleep took him a few minutes later. His mouth opened a bit and light snores filled the room.

Alfred smiled when he heard Arthur sleeping, and he thanked the gods since he had been falling asleep himself. With a cat-like yawn he fell asleep, nose buried in Arthur's hair.

Arthur woke the next morning, and found them to be in mostly the same position they'd fallen asleep in. Alfred was still sleeping, so he closed his eyes again and said nothing.

When Alfred woke up, the first thing he did was tighten his arms around Arthur and look around. Once he was sure they were safe, and in the same place as before, he let out a soft sigh. Fuck, yesterday had been a long day. He yawned quietly, mainly into Arthur's hair on accident, and snuggled closer to him with a soft smile.

Arthur blinked and glanced up at him, but he was surprisingly content to stay in this particular position.

Alfred sighed softly again and mumbled some communist insults at Ivan, somehow managing to snuggle closer still to Arthur.

Arthur chuckled ever so quietly and moved his head to the pillow. He let out a long, quiet breath and started slipping away into the realm of sleep again.

Alfred blinked down at him and blushed horribly, but he didn't really move. "Art?" he asked softly.

"Mhm?" Arthur asked sleepily, his eyes fluttering open.

"Oh...y-you're awake?"

"Well, I was about to not be awake..." Arthur shrugged and snuggled deeper into the pillow, his eyes sliding shut.

"Oh, sorry."

"It's fine. Don't apologize." He promptly fell asleep again.

Alfred blinked, poking Arthur in the nose. Wow, he really was asleep. Alfred sighed. If he tried to move, Arthur would probably wake up. So with no problem in the slightest, he closed his own eyes and sighed gently, relaxing.

Arthur woke again in about fifteen minutes and looked up. He wriggled slightly in Alfred's grip, and waited to see if there was going to be any response.

"Artie? Awake again?"

"Yes. I am a bit...hungry now..." Arthur said cautiously.

"...Aww."

"What?"

"I..." Alfred blushed softly. "I like it like this..."

"Oh." Arthur's cheeks heated up quite spectacularly. "W-Well...I-I don't really...mind this either... It's quite nice...and warm..."

Alfred was more than surprised, and he was glad his face was hidden in Arthur's hair. "...Erm...wow, um...awesome!...I mean...well...cool."

Arthur chuckled nervously. "I don't suppose you...err...want to move, do you?"

"...No...not really...do you want me to?"

"No...not necessarily..." Arthur could practically feel the heat radiating off his face, and briefly wondered if Alfred could feel it too.

"Oh...wanna...um, hang like this then?"

Arthur cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. "Y-Yes, I think that would be splendid." His stomach's needs were pushed far down in favour of this current moment.

"...Cool."

Not really knowing what else to do now, Arthur patted Alfred lightly on the shoulder.

Alfred blinked, before snickering quietly and nuzzling his nose against Arthur's hair.

"Sh-Shut up, you're just as awkward." Arthur muttered, pushing his head lightly against it.

Alfred blinked again and smiled, pushing back gently. "No I'm nooot."

Arthur pushed a bit harder. "Yes you are, don't deny it." He tilted his head back a bit and glanced up into Alfred's eyes.

Alfred grinned at him, and suddenly pressed his nose to Arthur's forehead. "Nope!"

Arthur leaned back more and brought his hand up to poke the other's nose. "Yes!"

"Nuh uh!" Alfred grinned and shook his head.

Arthur poked him again, harder and on the cheek this time. "Yes, you are."

"Nope~!"

Arthur sighed. "You're hopeless to argue with..." he murmured, and ducked his head again, returning to their previous position.

Alfred smiled and leaned down to nuzzle against Arthur's hair again. "Uh huh, 'cause I'm a hero and I always win!"

"No, because you're stubborn and annoying. That's the only reason you win." Arthur muttered, but there was no bite in his voice. He nuzzled Alfred's chest back.

Alfred huffed. "Not true, that's you!" He smiled down at him, and at the warm feeling in his chest.

"Gentlemen aren't annoying." Arthur stated factually. He stretched his leg under the covers, and his foot accidentally rubbed against Alfred's.

Alfred snickered, but blushed horribly when he felt the touch. "U-Um, yeah they are!"

"S-Sorry..." Arthur's own face grew hot again, and his heart leapt. "They are not..."

"No, no prob...and yeah, probs not...'cept for you."

Arthur hit his shoulder lightly. "Shut up, I am not!"

Alfred grinned. "Are too!"

"Am not!" Arthur slid down a bit, so that Alfred's face was no longer in his hair, and turned slightly away from him.

"Oi!" Alfred slid down with him, to put his nose back into his hair.

Arthur tilted his head up, so they were nose to nose. "What?"

Alfred blinked, and his cheeks heated up some more. "...Err...don't move any more!"

"Why not?" Arthur stared back at him.

"Cuz it feels nice now..."

Arthur smiled slightly at him, despite his own blush. "Alright..."

"...So...don't move!"

"I didn't move, I smiled..."

Alfred smiled gently back. "And...don't move!"

"I'm not moving, Alfred." Arthur held perfectly still, staring deep into those blue, blue eyes.

Alfred grinned at him again, his expression a bit softer now. "I know."

"So...Are we just going to stay like this now?"

"...Unless you don't wanna?"

"No," Arthur lowered his gaze to Alfred's shoulder. "This is fine."

Alfred smiled gently and closed his eyes with a nod. "Okay...thanks..."

Arthur smiled, slightly sadly. "Of course." After a moment, though, he suddenly pulled back. "Actually, n-no." He got up completely, sliding out of the bed. His expression was unreadable. "Alfred, this, this right here, it cannot go on. When you know what you want from us-" Damn. It slipped out. He hurriedly fixed it. "From me. When you know exactly what you want from me, come and find me. Until then, just stop..." He left the room before the American could say anything to him in response.

He'd always loved Alfred. There was no doubt about that. But the type of love, now that had changed, matured. Deepened. Because of the Revolutionary War, the World Wars, even their 'Special Relationship' time, as Churchill had dubbed it. But now he felt that Alfred was sending him mixed signals. If his love was unrequited, he could take that blow and move on. But he refused to let himself look like an idiot, so he left. He unlocked the door and went down to the kitchen to prepare himself some tea, pulling on a robe as he walked.