The entire time they were on their way to the hotel, all England could do was scream, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He'd cursed everything from France, to alcohol, to America, then back to France, and finally the Russian, before he...went back to...cursing France. Again. That seemed to be his default for when he didn't quite know who he was supposed to fuss at, and when they finally reached the hotel, England having taken to competing with the volume of the radio, (America had it all the way up, and he was blasting rock music, how was England still clearly audible through that!) America shut off the engine, pocketed the keys, and dragged the Briton to the elevator (after yet again being fussed at for not calling it a "lift",) wondering if the man would ever shut up... England's frustrated tears were starting to show, small drops now barely visible in the very corners of his eyes, and Alfred blew a strand of hair out of his face, thanking God when the doors opened and he could get out... He didn't even have to hold onto the Anglo nation any more, he was pretty much following along, vocal chords getting a workout, and so once they reached the Englishman's door, he turned, frowning, and demanded the key. There was a moment's hesitation, a dumbstruck look on the Brit's face, and a "What?" before the penny finally dropped, and he handed Alfred the card key to the room. England went in first, America having pushed him, and he slammed the door behind him, gripping England by the collar and giving him a good shake.

"SHUT! UP! ! !"

England promptly obeyed the command, if only because he was surprised by the sudden volume of the American's voice.

"Damn, England, will you just stop! ? I want to talk to you, that's totally different from getting yelled at, you know!"

The boy took a moment to make sure he wouldn't have to gag the Englishman before flicking on the lights, and leading him over to sit on the bed. The springs creaked softly under their weight, and he heaved a sigh, turning to him.

"Okay. Start at the beginning. Why are you mad at Russia?"

England said nothing, and only ended up glancing away.

"Okay...fine. Don't look at me. But answer my questio-"

"I don't like him being so close to you."

"You don't like the thought of me dating him..?"

Dirty-blonde hair swayed gently as an English head was shaken. He really did feel like a scolded child, and he wasn't so fond of feeling that way. Especially not since he was older than America and, in fact, had sort of raised him...

"Can you at least tell me why..?"

England glared back at him, glowing emerald eyes peering up through his fringe.

"Does this have anything to do with what you said about having fallen for me?"

Considering the way England's cheeks lit up, America was fairly certain that he could assume that the answer was "yes". He frowned, raised a brow, and hummed absently, leaning back. He supported himself by his arms, and stared at the ceiling, swinging his leg.

"England, you can stop playing dumb, you already pretty much told me how you feel..."

The Briton's eyes narrowed and, bringing his knees to his chest, he kept his gaze down, not wanting to catch Alfred's eyes again. He was too embarrassed by now, and he would only end up flustered if he saw how the American looked at him... He rubbed at the subtle tears in his eyes, and "humph"ed.

"What does it matter to you, anyway? I never told you, and you found someone else, I'll get over it. Now just go on to watch your stupid film with Russia, and leave me alone, will you? Don't you think I've been through enough today?"

"Well...I'm not trying to embarrass you, England... Or...Arthur."

There was a quick twinge in his stomach at the mentions of his human name. Why couldn't he say it under better circumstances..?

"Either way, it doesn't matter. Just go, I'm finished talking about this."

"But I'm not..! You didn't even hear what I had to say! Why do you always think the worst?"

"I've not had the best past. We're leaving it at that."

"Okay, fine... But can I at least say something before you try to kick me out?"

"You've been talking the whole time."

"I mean I want to say something else!"

"All right, fine! What the hell is it! ?"

"I don't want to tell you now, you're in a bad mood! You'll probably yell at me again!"

"I will not, now what is it! ?"

"You're already yelling again, I'm not telling you!"

There was a distinct grinding noise as England clenched his teeth together. He gripped the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and the blood that had evacuated from there had apparently migrated to his face, because it had turned a horrible red... Even when he spoke, he had his teeth clenched, and so his words were obviously forced.

"All right... I'm not...going...to yell. Now tell me, America: what, exactly, did you have to say?"

Normally, this would be the point where America would grin, having gotten his way, and spill whatever it was that he wanted. This time, however, he cast the man in front of him a sceptical look, contorting his face into something that was...really quite comical, and England probably would have laughed, had he not been so pissed off. He really did have quite the stressful day, didn't he?

"...I guess... Just don't like...you know...go nuts or something."

"...I'm listening, I assure you."

"Yeah, okay, um...so...I guess I should start with the beginning."

"Clearly."

"I'm...well, I'm not in any kind of relationship with Ivan. At all."

"W-well...but...what?"

"I'm not in a relationship with Ivan! He's okay to talk to sometimes, but I would never...you know...kiss him or anything!"

Sticking out his tongue and scrunching up his face, America made it quite clear that he was opposed to the idea and, in fact, continued his complaints.

"Why would I want to kiss him? His commie germs might rub off on me, and that would be so gross, England!"

Suddenly, England came to a realisation. His brows furrowed, and he allowed his legs to drop back to the floor. He didn't want to bring up the subject again, but he was far too curious, and he had to ask...

"W-wait, so...if you would never kiss him...then what were you doing when I saw you leant over the table..?"

"Huh? Oh, you mean just before you came in? I tried to tell you in the meeting room, we weren't kissing!" The American smirked. Why was he smirking..? "He was whispering in my ear... He had a secret to tell me, and he wanted to make sure no one was listening in."

"...oh."

And with that, Arthur's face turned red. Not just a light red either, if you were to splash his face with ketchup, then you wouldn't be able to tell, and he glanced at the floor, fidgeting. Damn, now he felt like an idiot and a stalker, and he was fairly well ready for America to leave so he could die and rot in the hotel by himself. Of course, the thought that America wasn't with Russia calmed him a bit, but now he was plagued by the thought that America was single and knew about his feelings, and he groaned, rubbing at his stinging face. Maybe he would get lucky and Alfred wouldn't press the issue, but then England opened his mouth, and cursed himself inwardly...

"Then you're not dating anyone?"

America only laughed, tilting his head back in his myrth.

"No, England, I'm totally single. Still on the market, and completely free."

Then there was silence. All England could make out was the ticking of the alarm clock on the side table, and the thrumming of his heart, the two noises not quite in synch, but as the minutes wore on, and neither of them said anything, the semi-comfortable silence was beginning to grow quite awkward...

"...hey, Arthur..?"

"A-ah! Y-yes..?"

"Didn't you have something to ask me..?"

"L...like..?"

"You basically asked if I was single, that's totally an opening for "will you go out with me" or something! Did you want to ask or not?"

Why was that boy so tactless! ? England groaned again, hiding his face, and flopped back on the bed in desperation. He was really having a shitty day...

"Is that a yes?"

"N-not really... I don't particularly feel like asking, to tell you the truth..."

"Aww, why not? You're supposed to ask me now, Arthur, it's in all the movies!"

"No...no thank you, I'm fine with not knowing the answer..."

"You're just being stubborn! Well fine, if you won't ask, then I will!"

"Wait, what! ?"

America snorted, crawling over the Briton, and stared down at him, the Englishman having pulled his hands away from his face in his momentary lapse of brain function, and when he saw America's face only a few inches from his, he squeaked, and tried to press himself farther into the mattress.

"I said that if you won't ask, I will! Really, and France already said that I was being obvious!"

"O-obvious! ?"

He was promptly ignored.

"Will you go out with me?"

"G...go...what! ?"

"'Will you go out with me'!"

And then it started. His speech tumbled off into a bunch of incoherent babbles only mildly resembling words, and his mind had begun reeling, and even his bodily motions had gotten a bit spastic and random. The way he saw it, there were three possibilities to this situation: one, America had gone crazy and didn't know what he was saying, two, he had gone crazy and was imagining things, or three, he had passed out earlier, and was now dreaming. It was when he caught the slight look of fear in the other's eyes when he realised that the American was fully aware of what he was saying, and he stopped hyperventilating when he realised that America was actually afraid of being rejected... He blinked a few times, making a small noise of confusion, and arched a brow, glancing briefly to the side.

"I-I...are you serious..?"

"Yeah! I mean...you said you liked me, and since I like you too, it makes sense, right?"

"I...I know, but are you...you're not just making fun of me again..?"

"No way! I might tease at you sometimes, but this is completely legit! I'm not such a bastard that I would mock your emotions, England... Well, not like this anyway. So...you're gonna say yes, right? You said you liked me, England, you have to say yes!"

Even if England wanted to object, the expression in America's eyes kept him from doing it. It was hopeful, scared, enthusiastic, all while holding that same optimistic attitude it always had. He smiled briefly before clearing his throat, and pouting. His face was still red, and he forced himself to narrow his eyes in mild defiance.

"I...d-don't want you to call us 'boyfriends'...understand? We're...we are to be 'lovers'. It sounds more proper, less juvenile... And...and if we are going to be lovers, th-then...you may call me 'Arthur'."

"So you're saying 'yes'!"

England's only response was a nod. A slow one, and an embarrassed one, but it was a nod, and America was going to take it. He practically squealed with delight, and before England could stop him, he pressed his whole body weight down on the poor Briton, the Anglo nation being squished under the weight of the superpower... America wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, (as well as he could, since they were both lying down,) and England found himself blushing yet again, unable to yell. He rather enjoyed the attention, though he still didn't want to let the American see all of his feelings just yet, and so he tried to keep his emotions in check, but even as he was thinking this, his hands went up to cup Alfred's cheeks. Unable to hold himself back, he brought their lips together for a soft, tender kiss, the first of what would be many.