A/N: Oh my, it's been a month since I've updated this story. Sorry about leaving you guys hanging ._. Also, I'm glad that there are people excited about this story, and I just hope that the extremely late update didn't make anyone lose faith in it. I'm definitely going to start updating this more frequently.

Well, I may have made this chapter a bit too fluffy, but I hope you guys don't mind. Also, happy PI day everyone! (Even though I don't even acknowledge this holiday).

France awoke the next morning, and glanced out the window to find that it was still dark outside. Furrowing his eyebrows, he decided to read the clock, and found that it was almost five am. Then he gazed over at America, only to see that he was still asleep. He's been asleep for twelve hours now, France thought, he must have been extremely exhausted from all of that crying. France continued to watch the young nation sleep, and couldn't help but titter whenever America mumbled something about being a hero. To him, it was the equivalent of watching a puppy have a dream.

Suddenly, America began to inch closer to France, and hugged him while mumbling in his sleepy voice, "Mmm….it's so comfy."

France couldn't help but blush at the action. In response, he decided to stroke America's hair and cheek as if he was his precious pet. The touch caused America to snuggle even closer to France. That was, until he finally opened his eyes, and studied the situation he was currently in. After a few moments of silence, America gave the older nation a flummoxed gaze, and inquired, "France, what are you doing?"

"Nothing cheri," France replied as he quickly retreated his hand, and then added with an innocent hum, "Well, it's a good thing you're finally awake. You've been out for nearly twelve hours."

For a moment, America gave France a qualm glare, but eventually decided to shrug the uneasy feeling off when he figured that France was just being his overly affectionate self. Once that internal compromise was over, America gripped his stomach when he realized how hungry he was, and asked, "Do you think we could eat some breakfast now?"

"Where do you want to eat? I doubt there are any restaurants open right now."

"It doesn't have to be at a restaurant," America began his explanation. However, he paused for a moment to start up yet another debate with himself, I'm sick of spending time at my house, but I suppose if France is around to keep me company, it'll feel a bit different. On a second thought, he might be fun to hang around for a while. He continued on with his clarification, "We could eat breakfast at my house. Besides, I need to change into some new close, and I'd rather take a shower at home than at a hotel."

"Wait," France stated, and then questioned out of his disbelief, "You're letting me stay at your house?"

"Why not?" America asked, "I owe you anyways, since you helped me out and everything."

After that was said, France began to pack up his belongings while America did his best to look presentable with the lack of hygiene enhancers he had available at the moment. With some drops of water, his hair was almost manageable, despite the cowlick that refused to stay down. Other than that, he didn't seem to have a pungent odor to him, and his teeth and skin; well that was as flawless as always. Once the two nations were finished preparing to leave, France checked out of the hotel room, and they both left for America's house in a cab.

As soon as they arrived at the said house, America went to his bedroom to gather up some new clothes, and began to take his shower. Meanwhile, France decided that while America was in the shower, it would be the perfect time to have that talk with England. A few moments after dialing England's number, he was greeted with a vexatious sigh, "What do you want, stupid frog?"

"Angleterre," France began, "I think you went a little far with your insults towards Amerique."

A pang of guilt struck at England's gut, but he decided to veil it with a snappy response, "Who ever said I insulted America!? Also, since when did you actually start caring for his well being!?"

France began to feel his defensive tendencies act up when he heard the apathy being used against America, and snapped, "Don't you even care about the pain you put Amerique through!? I was watching him during the meeting, and the entire time he was holding back tears! Don't even deny the fact that you insulted him, he told me everything you said to him! He even called himself a failure, and was reluctant to eat when I offered him food! Amerique doesn't usually act like this, so I hope you feel terrible for what you have done!"

A queasy feeling began to settle in England's stomach, and this time when he replied, he did not even bother to hide his remorse, "I'm terribly sorry France. Honestly, I didn't mean any of those insults. Is America going to be okay?"

"I think he's fine now," France sighed, allowing himself to relax, "but you should still apologize to him, instead of to me."

When America walked into the living room, France told England before handing the young nation his phone, "Well, here he is."

"Hello?" America asked, and felt his heart drop when he heard England's voice on the other end, "Hello America."

"England?" America questioned, "Why would you want to talk to me?"

"I just wanted to apologize for hurting you yesterday. Are you going to be okay?"

"Don't worry about it," America answered with a smile, "I'm kind of over it now, but it was nice of you to apologize anyways."

"Well, I should get going now, I have to get ready for my flight."

"Okay, bye." Was the last thing America said before hanging up. After returning the phone to France, he immediately set off towards the kitchen, and began to search for something to eat for breakfast. As France watched America search through his cabinets in order to decide on what to eat, he offered, "I could cook you something for breakfast, if you'd like."

"No thanks," America replied, grabbing a box of cookie dough pop tarts, "I already have that taken care of."

Then America grabbed a package of pop tarts from the box, and held it out to France while asking, "Want some?"

France observed the picture of the pastries on the box. It did not look appetizing to him at all, and the fact that the words 'chocolate chip cookie dough' were printed above the poptarts didn't help. The concept made absolutely no sense to France. Why would anyone eat a pastry stuffed with cookie dough for breakfast? He thought, That's more of a dessert than a breakfast. As disgusting as the food seemed to be to France, he also didn't want to reject the poptarts, in the fear that it might offend, or hurt his American love interest. Of course, he was aware that America was not nearly as fragile as he was absentmindedly portraying him to be, but he figured that demonstrating some decent manners would be necessary, in case it somehow actually did. Using the most polite tone he could muster, France grabbed a package of the pop tarts, and replied, "Merci. I've never had one of these before, but they look very… tempting."

America's already cheery expression seemed to brighten a bit at this. Then he decided to offer, "I have some other flavors as well, if you want to try them out."

"No thanks," France began, successfully managing to restrain a grimace, "I think this will be plenty."

When France studied his first bite of the pastry with his tongue, he tried his best to stifle a gag at the cloying taste. The fact that the pop tart was also extremely dehydrating only made matters worse. By the time France was halfway done with eating the first pop tart, he set it down on the kitchen counter, and stated, "I don't think I can eat anymore of this."

America noticed that France seemed to be nauseated, and decided to inform, "You know, you didn't have to eat an entire half of a pop tart if you don't like them."

"They weren't to bad," France explained, then decided to somewhat express his opinion, "they're just a little too sweet."

"By the way," America began, deciding to change the topic as a sudden liveliness struck him, "There's this one very terrifying horror movie I'm planning on watching tonight. Wanna watch it with me?"

Upon hearing the request, France began to ponder, I don't think this would be a good idea after what the other nations have told me, but surely he doesn't react as badly as the rumors portray him to? Well, his horror movies are terrible, so I doubt it. Turning to face America once more, he answered, "Okay."

America clung to France's shirt as if his life depended on it; his entire form trembling as he tried to stifle his whimpers. France had an arm wrapped around America, in an attempt to comfort the young nation. Although he was somewhat disturbed by the rather gory scenes, France held no interest in the movie playing before him. He was almost half tempted to turn off the television, especially since America seemed to be on the verge of panicking, but since his love interest had been so intent on finishing the movie, France decided that it would be best to wait patiently throughout the rest of the film.

Suddenly, a blood curdling screech rang throughout the room; causing France to jump, and America to shriek, and bury his head into the older nation's shoulder. Once France recovered from the jump scare, he returned to attention America when he heard the younger of the two's muffled demand, "Turn it off! turn it off! TURN IT OFF!"

France grabbed the remote, and turned the television off. For a moment, the room was silent before America began to sob. While gently rubbing America's back, France explained with a sigh, "Everything's going to be okay Amerique. It was just a movie."

"I-I know," America's whimper was almost mute, "b-but it looked so real."

The two nations continued to sit on the couch in (almost) complete silence, and when America's sobs showed no signs of dying down, France sighed, and held America protectively as he advised, "Just try to take your mind off of it. Usually talking to someone helps."

By the time America finally regained some of his composure, he lifted his head in order to make eye contact with France, and asked, "W-wait, you don't think I'm being a complete wimp right now?"

"Of course not."

Confusion was present in America's eyes as he explained, "But usually everyone thinks I'm full of it when I get scared from a horror movie."

"Well, you shouldn't feel ashamed of it," France assured, "Because not everyone thinks that way."

The frown on America's face was quickly replaced by a smile as he stated, "You're the only person I know who actually cares when I get scared from a horror movie."

France quirked an eyebrow as he asked, "Doesn't Matthieu care about how you feel?"

"I guess he would, if he actually saw me in a scared state," America began, "but I usually try to hide my feelings from him, since I don't want to be a burden. The same applies to everyone else."

As France continued to gaze into America's azure orbs, he couldn't help but notice a sudden emptiness to them. Has he been feeling lonely? France mentally asked himself before saying, "If you ever feel upset, please talk to me. It's not healthy to keep negative emotions bottled up."

"Thanks France," America replied in a somewhat timid tone, "You're too kind."

France couldn't help but allow a shy smile of his own to decorate his features at the response. He's kind of cute when he acts shy. France thought, as he felt himself somewhat melt on the inside. However, the fluttery feeling was replaced with that of disappointment when America decided to leave his embrace, and say, "I think I'll be going to bed now."

"Okay then, bonne nuit."

France watched as America walked out of the room, but when the younger nation suddenly stopped moving when he gazed down the hallway, France decided to approach him and ask, "What's wrong? Are you still scared?"

"A little," America admitted and then asked, "W-would it be too much trouble for you to come to the bedroom with me?"

"Of course not." France answered, and with that said, the two set off towards the bedroom. Once in the bedroom, America quickly burrowed himself under the covers of his bed, as if something lurking in the silhouettes of the room would attack him if he wasn't nimble. When America spoke, after a while of hiding under the covers, France couldn't help but be surprised by how childish his words sounded, "F-France? You wouldn't mind sleeping with me would you? N-not in the dirty way of course."

At that, France crawled under the covers next to America. By the time France was lying comfortably on the bed, America allowed his head to pop out from under the the blankets, and with an embarrassed blush, he added, "S-sorry if this feels a little awkward."

France shrugged, "I really don't mind."

Oh right, of course he wouldn't, America thought, as he snuggled closer to his ally. As France returned the affection, he began to muse, I swear, Amerique becomes more adorable by the second. Unfortunately, and obviously, he's not in love with me just yet, but I think that will change one day if I keep acting friendly towards him. Right once France's chain of thought was concluded, America stated, "You're right, we don't spend enough time together."