Alfred had turned the corner and then leant against the wall unsuccessfully trying not to wonder what they were now doing. He couldn't stop a grin at the memory of Arthur in his boxers, obviously talking to his magical friends. Perhaps France will be unlucky tonight; that would explain the cold look he'd got as the door opened. Arthur's body kept filling his mind, and he felt like he would go mad.

He wished it were himself there instead of Francis; Arthur wouldn't be having any conversations, that's for sure. To Alfred's surprise, he heard the door close behind him, and just as he was about to creep away, Arthur called out for him. Alfred scurried down the corridor before clicking the lift button and readjusting his loosened tie, pleased he had sorted his appearance out before the visit. He casually turned his head as he saw Arthur hurry around the corner and tried to stay cool and act surprised as he came up to him, in clothes.

"Wait, Alfred. Would it be alright for me to stay with you for a bit? Am I right in thinking that you wanted to talk about Matt's room or something on those lines?"

Alfred felt a smile fighting to be set free as he saw how Arthur was trying to be, still acting the big brother despite all that had happened between their countries – not to mention what he'd just walked in on.

"Yeah, yeah of course you're welcome anytime! You know that." The lift doors opened and he signalled for Arthur to go in but he was greeted with a gentle shove as he found himself stumbling inside, Arthur stepped in behind him. "Young America, your etiquette still so basic." Alfred wasn't sure what to say to that, so quickly pressed his floor number and tried to ignore the smells of wine and cologne that were surely remnants of Arthur's little evening with Francis.

Arthur broke the short silence. "So, sorry about earlier. Um…" Alfred patted him on the back with a shaking hand and forced a smile.

"Hey, it's no problem. You got away right? Now you can have a much better time with me!" he felt his face go red as he realised what he'd implied. "Wait, not like that. Oh man. I meant doing normal stuff like..."

Arthur laughed, "I know, and yes, you're probably right. So tell me about this room problem, how can I help?"

Alfred felt his breathing slow, as his mind grew clear.

"Well, whoever sorted our rooms out screwed up big-time! They put Matthew next to Romano, and Cuba is next to the lift. Matty's avoiding them by taking the stairs. He's on the 5th floor for God sake, he has to change rooms!"

"5th floor? That's not too far to walk…" Arthur was chewing on the American's words, wondering what he'll have to do.

"It is dude! Anyway it's beside the point, you are on a different floor, so can you swap rooms with him, please? He won't leave his room!"

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, when he thought of Francis. He was next door. If he changed room after what happened, Francis would think it was his own fault, think that it was something Arthur didn't want. Arthur closed his mouth, unsure of what to say, when a little voice saved him the decision.

"I'm actually right here Alfred. Thank you for trying, but I like using the stairs." Alfred jumped in surprise at Matthew's voice, not realising he was there.

"Well there we go then." Arthur said merrily, leaning back against the lift.

"Are you sure Matt?" Matthew nodded at his brother.

"Wait, why are you in here then?" Arthur asked.

Canada smiled and pointed to Alfred. "He's here, so everyone knows who is who. If anything will happen, it won't be to me." Alfred frowned slightly, but nodded and shrugged.

"Ok, that's true enough. But whatever, hopefully Cuba is chilling in his room and we don't need to worry about seeing him." The lift stopped and as the doors opened, both America and Canada froze upon seeing who was getting in.

Behind an angry looking Cuba was Russia, a hand resting on a shaking China's shoulder. The lift occupants quickly slid out as the new ones started to go in. "America! There are two of you now? What is up with that? Good riddance you shits." The doors closed and Canada gritted his teeth in anger. "Two Americas! Me, America?" his hands were balled in anger, and Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.

"You just look kind of similar. Don't take it personally, he didn't get a good look at you."

Matthew nodded and muttered a goodbye before heading for his door and disappearing inside.

"Well that was awkward. Lets go; it's just down here." Alfred pulled Arthur's sleeve gently and then dropped his hand in embarrassment. Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat, for when America was young and under his care, Alfred would often do that when he wanted to lead Arthur somewhere.

Arthur resisted ruffling the younger country's hair, for he wasn't a child anymore and things had never been the same since America's independence.

They turned the corner and Alfred fumbled in his trouser pockets, trying to find his key.

"Shit, shit, shit." He had his wallet out, thumbing through the various cards. Arthur sighed and pulled it out of his grasp, chose an expired credit card and handed the wallet back.

"This one?" he pointed to the door and Alfred nodded, confused. Arthur spun the card between his forefingers and forced it into the lock. His eyebrows furrowed as he wiggled the card around. With a click, the door swung open and Arthur grinned, putting the card down on the table inside. He stepped in, and carefully avoided the clothes and bags scattered across the floor and made it to the desk. He picked something up and went over to Alfred, who was trying to shove clothes in a smaller looking pile.

"Here's the key. Now put it in your pocket and don't lose it." Arthur waved the key in front of Alfred's eyes and held it out to him. Alfred took it and as his fingers brushed Arthur's he blushed.

Arthur chose to ignore the colour spreading across Alfred's cheeks and was getting tired of company. He just wanted to finish unpacking and sleep. He didn't even feel like speaking with fairies, despite their information on how his country is doing. Thoughts of earlier kept flitting across his mind and Arthur kept himself distracted, wondering which bag had he put his sewing in. It was then that he grew aware of the unusual feel of the shirt on his skin. It wasn't… he let his eyes wander to his arm and saw the dark red fabric. This was not his shirt.

He sighed in exasperation as he realised what he'd done. No doubt Francis was now wearing his own shirt, and would likely have no intention of swapping them back. Arthur found himself sliding down in the chair, aware of the French cologne that was surrounding him. He couldn't stop the thoughts now. He wondered if Francis liked his shirt, it wasn't as good quality as this one, but since he'd been wearing a waistcoat it hadn't mattered.

He wondered if Francis would actually wear it, since they were slightly different sizes. Arthur refused to even think that he was on the scrawny side, but accepted that Francis was ever so slightly larger built than him. He sat up again, the looseness starting to annoy him. He wanted his own shirt back.

"What's up? Do you want a snack or a drink?" Alfred had got some peanuts in his hand, shoving them in his mouth as he spoke. He was like a conveyor belt, constantly eating. Arthur grumbled his response.

"I'm wearing Frog's bloody shirt! Sorry about this Alfred, I'm going to go back after all. I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow, 10.30 right?"

"Yeah, but won't I see you at breakfast?"

"Oh yes, of course. Um, maybe. Right, I'm off. Thanks. Bye then."

Alfred waved and swallowed his mouthful before saying goodbye.