Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Well what'd do you wanna do, just leave her by herself?"

America glanced over at England, scolding a man in a poster to have better posture. He looked back at Prussia. "I don't even know where her hotel is."

"Well, Ludwig is gonna kill my awesome ass for being out so late, Francis already left-"

"And I've got Lovi waiting for me." Spain added. The two Europeans both looked back at him.

"That leaves you. You're still sober, too." Spain nodded in agreement a little too much. America knew he shouldn't have agreed to come with them. They were in his country, so he couldn't even drink. He had thought he could do with some socializing, but he just turned into the designated driver and babysitter. But then again, if he wasn't here, who would take care of England? There was no way he'd allow her to go with France or Prussia, even if they weren't drunk.

The American sighed. "I still don't know where her hotel is."

"Just take her back to your place, we don't have any meetings tomorrow anyway so we don't have to get up early." The Spanish nation answered.

"Ja, ja, it'll be fine! Bye!" Prussia was already walking away, tripping on the uneven sidewalk before continuing on his way. Spain smiled and followed, wishing him good luck and goodbye and leaving America standing alone outside the bar. Well, England was still there. He smell the alcohol from there.

"Alice?" He asked, approaching the Brit who was humming to herself. "Hey, you wanna go home now?"

She looked at him and beamed. "Oh, sure!" England walked over to him and took his hand, then leaning on him.

America couldn't help to blush at the sudden closeness, but he just sighed and started walking back toward his apartment. England continued to hold onto him, humming some version of God Save The Queen. This was good, he just hoped he could get her to bed before the other stage of drunk England set in.

There were two ways England acted when she was drunk. One was this, happy and bubbly. It was always a nice change from the angry Brit he knew. America liked seeing her smile like this, but he wished she smiled more when she was sober. The other way was depressed England. Sometime she'd skip over the first one and just go straight into sad, drunk England. She always happened to be sad about him, slumped on the counter and mourning him like he was dead. Sometimes she cried and that was what really broke America's heart.

Right now she was still happy, the smell of rum or maybe whiskey still clinging to her as she swung their hands. Humming to her heart's content and leaning into him as he led her through the city streets. Suddenly, England let out a yelp as she stumbled and tripped over a rock, almost faceplanting into the concrete if Alfred hadn't been there to catch her.

"You okay?" He asked. She nodded, a little dazed.

Then her emerald eyes lit up. "Alfie! Carry me!"

"W-What?" America stuttered as his face turned red at both the nickname and request.

England hugged his arm again. "So I don't fall! Carry me!"

He didn't have much of an argument and it wasn't like she would even remember this in the morning. Alice was always a blackout drunk. "Okay, okay, fine." She beamed as he turned around and leaned down. "Get on." Alfred easily hoisted her up on his back, she barely weighted anything due to his super strength. She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled her face into his hair.

The American nation blushed at her closeness, but continued walking toward his apartment. Thankfully it wasn't far from the bar they had come from. It couldn't have been longer than ten minutes before could hear England snoring softly, her grip on him slacking. Alfred sighed again, finally reaching his apartment building, this was always what it turned into.

America had long ago realized his feelings for England. It had been during World War II when he had first accepted it. Perhaps it had been seeing her in the heat of war, bloody and broken, yet still giving those Nazis hell. Maybe it was seeing her as the British Empire, to which the sun never set. Seeing her no longer an older sister but as an ally, as a friend even. She was strong and powerful and even though her empire had lessened and her colonies were gone and no one was really that scared of her anymore, she still very much held the air of an empire. No amount of wars could take that away from her. But Alfred knew in his heart his affections were much older then the most recent World War.

His feelings had evolved now that they weren't in endless wars fighting for their lives and their people. They were no less strong, but somehow more detailed, more domestic. Like how he loved how her hair smelled like strawberries and when she wrote his name in her perfect cursive. He liked her laugh and her smile, even though he didn't get to see and hear them often. He liked being why she was laughing or smiling. He liked her freckles, when he got bored in meetings he'd count them. Once Alice had even let him connect them with a pen, finding constellations on her skin.

The American entered his apartment building and waved at the receptionist on his way to the elevator, tapping the button for the highest floor. All his feeling didn't matter though, because she wouldn't ever love him back. It was clear they were only friends in her eyes and Alfred couldn't blame her for that. Just friends was mostly brought on by the pressure of their so called "Special Relationship". With everything they had gone through, it was stupid for him to harbor any hope that they could be in love and happy. There was no way Alfred would risk their fragile relationship they had worked so hard for just for his fears to be confirmed. He would have to be happy with friends and allies. He wasn't.

America left the elevator on his floor and unlocked his apartment. He set his phone and keys on the table by the door, shutting the door behind him and locking it. He walked down the hall to his bedroom and set Alice gently down. He pulled off her boots and softly untied her pigtails. She always complained about forgetting about taking it down and having dents in her hair. Alfred had tucked her under the covers and turned off the light, ready to retire to the couch for the night when England spoke.

"Alfred?" She asked softly. In the dark America couldn't see her face.

"Yeah?"

"Stay." The Brit murmured. "Please."

He really wanted to, all he wanted to do was to comply to her request and just curl up next to her and hold her in his arms. But he couldn't. "No, I gotta go to bed, you should too. It's late."

"Please stay with me." There was shuffling at the bed and he wasn't sure what she was doing until the American felt a hand grab his. "Don't leave."

America opened his mouth to protest, but just shut it when he couldn't find the right words. He was about to untangle his hand from hers when England suddenly hugged him. Because of their height difference she could easily rest her head on his chest.

"Please don't leave me again." She gasped, he could hear the tears in her voice.

Alfred slowly wrapped his arms around her smaller body, trying to ignore that she was crying again. Crying about him. He ignored the smell of alcohol and how wrong this was. This was the closest he'd ever get to her, he knew. Although he relished in her touch and the feeling of England this close, this gentle, he knew he'd trade all of it for Alice to never cry again, much less over him. He wasn't worth it.

America led her over to the bed, gently ushering them under the covers. Alice clung to him, arms still wrapped around his torso and her face buried in the crook of his neck. She stopped crying after a little while, sleep overtaking her not much longer after that, but Alfred couldn't find it in himself to leave her for the couch. The American simply brushed his fingers through her long hair, enjoying the simple feeling of her laying with him. No arguments or tension or war.

This was wrong and America knew it. He always woke before her when she came home drunk. He would untangle himself from her hug in the morning and creep into the living room and pretend he had spent the night on the couch. England would feel bad, she always apologized for kicking him out of his own bed and making him take care of her. She wouldn't know. America knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help to indulge himself.

He rolled onto his side, still holding her in his arms, and shut his eyes. He had to go to sleep or he would stay up all night, just holding her and brushing her hair.

"'love you." Alice murmured in her sleep. Alfred stiffened, glancing at her and hugging her closer She wasn't saying it to him, he knew. He couldn't torture himself thinking she was saying that to him.

"Love you more." He whispered anyway in the dark, kissing her hair and shutting his eyes.Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Well what'd do you wanna do, just leave her by herself?"

America glanced over at England, scolding a man in a poster to have better posture. He looked back at Prussia. "I don't even know where her hotel is."

"Well, Ludwig is gonna kill my awesome ass for being out so late, Francis already left-"

"And I've got Lovi waiting for me." Spain added. The two Europeans both looked back at him.

"That leaves you. You're still sober, too." Spain nodded in agreement a little too much. America knew he shouldn't have agreed to come with them. They were in his country, so he couldn't even drink. He had thought he could do with some socializing, but he just turned into the designated driver and babysitter. But then again, if he wasn't here, who would take care of England? There was no way he'd allow her to go with France or Prussia, even if they weren't drunk.

The American sighed. "I still don't know where her hotel is."

"Just take her back to your place, we don't have any meetings tomorrow anyway so we don't have to get up early." The Spanish nation answered.

"Ja, ja, it'll be fine! Bye!" Prussia was already walking away, tripping on the uneven sidewalk before continuing on his way. Spain smiled and followed, wishing him good luck and goodbye and leaving America standing alone outside the bar. Well, England was still there. He smell the alcohol from there.

"Alice?" He asked, approaching the Brit who was humming to herself. "Hey, you wanna go home now?"

She looked at him and beamed. "Oh, sure!" England walked over to him and took his hand, then leaning on him.

America couldn't help to blush at the sudden closeness, but he just sighed and started walking back toward his apartment. England continued to hold onto him, humming some version of God Save The Queen. This was good, he just hoped he could get her to bed before the other stage of drunk England set in.

There were two ways England acted when she was drunk. One was this, happy and bubbly. It was always a nice change from the angry Brit he knew. America liked seeing her smile like this, but he wished she smiled more when she was sober. The other way was depressed England. Sometime she'd skip over the first one and just go straight into sad, drunk England. She always happened to be sad about him, slumped on the counter and mourning him like he was dead. Sometimes she cried and that was what really broke America's heart.

Right now she was still happy, the smell of rum or maybe whiskey still clinging to her as she swung their hands. Humming to her heart's content and leaning into him as he led her through the city streets. Suddenly, England let out a yelp as she stumbled and tripped over a rock, almost faceplanting into the concrete if Alfred hadn't been there to catch her.

"You okay?" He asked. She nodded, a little dazed.

Then her emerald eyes lit up. "Alfie! Carry me!"

"W-What?" America stuttered as his face turned red at both the nickname and request.

England hugged his arm again. "So I don't fall! Carry me!"

He didn't have much of an argument and it wasn't like she would even remember this in the morning. Alice was always a blackout drunk. "Okay, okay, fine." She beamed as he turned around and leaned down. "Get on." Alfred easily hoisted her up on his back, she barely weighted anything due to his super strength. She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled her face into his hair.

The American nation blushed at her closeness, but continued walking toward his apartment. Thankfully it wasn't far from the bar they had come from. It couldn't have been longer than ten minutes before could hear England snoring softly, her grip on him slacking. Alfred sighed again, finally reaching his apartment building, this was always what it turned into.

America had long ago realized his feelings for England. It had been during World War II when he had first accepted it. Perhaps it had been seeing her in the heat of war, bloody and broken, yet still giving those Nazis hell. Maybe it was seeing her as the British Empire, to which the sun never set. Seeing her no longer an older sister but as an ally, as a friend even. She was strong and powerful and even though her empire had lessened and her colonies were gone and no one was really that scared of her anymore, she still very much held the air of an empire. No amount of wars could take that away from her. But Alfred knew in his heart his affections were much older then the most recent World War.

His feelings had evolved now that they weren't in endless wars fighting for their lives and their people. They were no less strong, but somehow more detailed, more domestic. Like how he loved how her hair smelled like strawberries and when she wrote his name in her perfect cursive. He liked her laugh and her smile, even though he didn't get to see and hear them often. He liked being why she was laughing or smiling. He liked her freckles, when he got bored in meetings he'd count them. Once Alice had even let him connect them with a pen, finding constellations on her skin.

The American entered his apartment building and waved at the receptionist on his way to the elevator, tapping the button for the highest floor. All his feeling didn't matter though, because she wouldn't ever love him back. It was clear they were only friends in her eyes and Alfred couldn't blame her for that. Just friends was mostly brought on by the pressure of their so called "Special Relationship". With everything they had gone through, it was stupid for him to harbor any hope that they could be in love and happy. There was no way Alfred would risk their fragile relationship they had worked so hard for just for his fears to be confirmed. He would have to be happy with friends and allies. He wasn't.

America left the elevator on his floor and unlocked his apartment. He set his phone and keys on the table by the door, shutting the door behind him and locking it. He walked down the hall to his bedroom and set Alice gently down. He pulled off her boots and softly untied her pigtails. She always complained about forgetting about taking it down and having dents in her hair. Alfred had tucked her under the covers and turned off the light, ready to retire to the couch for the night when England spoke.

"Alfred?" She asked softly. In the dark America couldn't see her face.

"Yeah?"

"Stay." The Brit murmured. "Please."

He really wanted to, all he wanted to do was to comply to her request and just curl up next to her and hold her in his arms. But he couldn't. "No, I gotta go to bed, you should too. It's late."

"Please stay with me." There was shuffling at the bed and he wasn't sure what she was doing until the American felt a hand grab his. "Don't leave."

America opened his mouth to protest, but just shut it when he couldn't find the right words. He was about to untangle his hand from hers when England suddenly hugged him. Because of their height difference she could easily rest her head on his chest.

"Please don't leave me again." She gasped, he could hear the tears in her voice.

Alfred slowly wrapped his arms around her smaller body, trying to ignore that she was crying again. Crying about him. He ignored the smell of alcohol and how wrong this was. This was the closest he'd ever get to her, he knew. Although he relished in her touch and the feeling of England this close, this gentle, he knew he'd trade all of it for Alice to never cry again, much less over him. He wasn't worth it.

America led her over to the bed, gently ushering them under the covers. Alice clung to him, arms still wrapped around his torso and her face buried in the crook of his neck. She stopped crying after a little while, sleep overtaking her not much longer after that, but Alfred couldn't find it in himself to leave her for the couch. The American simply brushed his fingers through her long hair, enjoying the simple feeling of her laying with him. No arguments or tension or war.

This was wrong and America knew it. He always woke before her when she came home drunk. He would untangle himself from her hug in the morning and creep into the living room and pretend he had spent the night on the couch. England would feel bad, she always apologized for kicking him out of his own bed and making him take care of her. She wouldn't know. America knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help to indulge himself.

He rolled onto his side, still holding her in his arms, and shut his eyes. He had to go to sleep or he would stay up all night, just holding her and brushing her hair.

"'love you." Alice murmured in her sleep. Alfred stiffened, glancing at her and hugging her closer She wasn't saying it to him, he knew. He couldn't torture himself thinking she was saying that to him.

"Love you more." He whispered anyway in the dark, kissing her hair and shutting his eyes.