I FAIL AT UPDATING. SORRY.

This isn't even a good update. It's like 1/3 of what it was supposed to be, but because of something I will elaborate on at the end, I had to cut it short just so I could tell you about it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. :(

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Currently the Englishman was having a nightmare. In it, he was in the company of Alfred and he was enjoying it.

A nightmare, indeed, so vividly horrid that he jerked awake shouting out, "Alfred!"

To his further horror, someone responded with laughter.

Slowly panning his head to the right, Arthur jumped violently when he saw the American kneeling next to his bed, face down on the sheets on the account he was laughing too hard to sit up properly.

All because Arthur had just woken up shouting the boy's name out as if he'd just had one of those dreams.

"Bleeding hell," groaned the Brit, burying his face in his hands, but really wanting to crawl under the covers like a small child. This was not what he needed to happen after his lengthy and trying conversation with Ludwig.

Despite being his one true friend in this abominable place, Ludwig had sided with his older brother from the start. The German even tried to get Arthur to "acknowledge" his possible "feelings" for the boy.

Therefore, Arthur had spent the five minutes up to his apartment cursing Germans with every pirate curse he could think, all the while trying to ignore the quick flashes of various pictures of Alfred that his mutinous mind kept conjuring.

It was needless to say, that waking up to Alfred after dreaming about him (tame though it was) and after the conversations of the night before, the Englishman had a most prominent blush upon his face.

The fact that Alfred had yet to stop laughing and was unbearably close helped none at all.

"Shut up, twit! It's not what you're thinking at all!" growled Arthur, finally raising his head from his heads so that he could smack the American's head.

Alfred clutched his head gingerly, a few chuckles still issuing forth as he lifted his eyes to meet Arthur's green ones, his own blue ones filled with mirth.

"Oh? What exactly was I thinking, Artie?"

The Brit opened and closed his mouth, blush darkening marginally. Was the twit actually flirting with him? Not good, not good, not good, not good, not good, not good, not good, not good—

"S-Something idiotic and false I'm sure! Now why are you here?"

Arthur almost swore he saw a flash of disappointment in Alfred's eyes, but any trace of it disappeared as the boy's face lit up at Kirkland's question.

"I came to get you for the tour, duh!"

Shutting his eyes tightly, Arthur groaned in frustration. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about the thing that had been the bane of his entire existence the whole previous day.

"Blimey, right, but did you have to wake me up?"

"I didn't." The American grinned, winking at Arthur. "At least, real me didn't; who knows what dream me was doing that made you jerk awake like that~."

"Nothing bloody happened, you wanker! You don't even know that it was about you!" Crossing his arms, Arthur looked away from his tormentor. "W-What if it was about another Alfred I know?"

Playfully, Alfred nudged the Londoner's knee, making the man look back at him.

"But it was about me, right?"

"I…I plead the fifth of your damnable Bill of Rights," grumbled Arthur as he refused to meet Alfred's eyes. This just made the American laugh, and it made Arthur question his decision to leave London.

"Haha, alright Artie, alright." Alfred stood up and leaned lazily on the bedpost by the foot of the bed. "Get dressed and we'll grab breakfast on our way to the basement to begin the tour."

"F-Fine." Arthur lingered under his blankets for a few more seconds before gathering enough nerves to toss them aside and stand up to march past Alfred to his closet. He didn't know why he was so nervous. He was wearing shorts and a shirt. He did know that he desperately wanted to beat to a pulp the small part of him that had wanted Alfred to make a physical move on him as he passed him.

This quasi-attraction shit needed to stop.

When the Englishman came out of his closet (literally, not metaphorically, damnit!), he was a little annoyed to see that Alfred was exactly where he'd left him.

"I say, why are you still in my room, Jones? Sod off so I can get dressed!"

Alfred blinked innocently at him, focusing briefly on the clothes Arthur had in his hands.

"Why didn't you change in the closet? I know from experience that it's big enough."

It took a little bit for Arthur to chastise himself for thinking Alfred's experiences included anything but getting dressed.

Scowling, softened as it was by his blush, the Englishman muttered, "My dresser is out here, so I have to come out here to get clean boxers…"

The American looked behind him at the dresser and grinned. Chucking lightly, he pushed off the bed post and as he passed Arthur to get to the door, he whispered, "Choose the blue-striped ones. They're the cutest~."

The door shut before Arthur's brain could catch up to spit out a retort. Curious though, the Brit watched the door as he walked over to his dresser and opened his underwear drawer.

His pair of blue-striped boxers was sitting on the top as if they'd always been that obvious.

"Th-That bloody wanker!"

What frustrated him more was that he actually wanted to wear them now because they were incredibly comfortable, but forced himself to pick up the plain black pair next to them.

Arthur Kirkland would be damned if he wore the boxers "chosen" for him by that damned American.

When he was done getting dressed, the Londoner left his room to find Alfred sitting over on the couch before his TV. Upon hearing the door open, the young man turned his head and smiled before practically jumping up and herding Arthur to the front door, babbling about how much fun the tour was going to be, and only just letting the man lock his door before shoving him to the elevator.

The Englishman was foolishly beginning to think that Alfred had forgotten the boxers thing, but once again the American showed how much he loved to publicly prove him wrong.

They were almost to the second floor when Alfred popped his question, stage whispering to Arthur, "You chose the black boxers, didn't you?"

Arthur felt like all the other passengers were watching him. Blushing profusely, the Londoner punched Alfred's shoulder, frowning, but he could tell he wasn't that intimidating at the moment.

Either that or Jones smiled brightly at everyone he pissed off, as if hoping they'd forgive him immediately.

"I did not, you git, and I would implore you to not discuss such crude matters in public places!" Kirkland turned back to the other passengers, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I'm sorry for the audacity of my companion."

Awkward murmurs rose from the passengers, in general accepting the apology. Alfred then leaned in closer so that his mouth was right by Arthur's ear.

"You're soooo wearing the black ones~," he whispered softly so that only Arthur could hear him this time.

Sputtering incoherently, Arthur just blushed more and stepped away from the American, who just straightened up, grinning.

Kirkland was definitely beginning to loathe the American and his country.

-La Tortuga de Oro-

Things didn't really get better when they stopped by the kitchen to get some breakfast, either.

Gilbert grinned from his place next to Matthew, who was busy flipping some pancakes, and Francis just seemed to be rather pleased with torturing the Brit.

Alfred managed to just continue acting as if nothing was maybe changing between the two of them. Granted, Arthur didn't necessarily want anything to change, but the jerk could at least acknowledge the fact that he was being…weird.

Watching the American pester his much calmer brother for more maple syrup, Arthur retracted that mental statement.

He would much rather the boy didn't say anything out loud. The elevator scene had been bad enough.

Because he didn't want any sort of relationship with the American, and he wasn't going to believe anyone who told him otherwise, even if it was Ludwig.

Ludwig could be wrong, right?

The very thought made the Londoner sigh with remorse as he watched Alfred and Matthew break out into a maple syrup fight, with Gilbert cheering from the sidelines.

This was going to be a long day.

-La Tortuga de Oro-

After Francis had had to come over to break up the fight between his sons, Alfred and Arthur were banished from the kitchen until lunchtime, so they headed down to the basement to start the tour.

"Down here in the basement, we have the laundry room for all the tenants and employees, and the awesome entertainment room!"

Arthur was going to make a skeptical remark about how "awesome" the entertainment allegedly was, but when he actually followed Alfred into the room, he discovered it truly was, well, spectacular.

It was the entertainment room of kings. There were at least two giant roll down projection screens for movies, with a few rows of cushy chairs to imitate the theater. In a little sectioned off area was another giant screen with practically every game console a pubescent boy would crave, with a library of games that simply made Arthur stare. He wasn't much of a gamer, but some of his brothers had been rather into it. He at least knew the goldmine he was staring at.

Further back in another section was everything else—the billiard tables and the arcade. There were even a couple vending machines in case people were too lazy to walk up to their rooms just to get a drink.

"I must say, Americans do know how to entertain themselves," mumbled the Englishman as he continued to drink in the sights the room offered. He was still reeling from the sheer knowledge of how long he could distract his siblings down here if they were living here with him.

"That we do, Artie. Now how about I show you the one area down here that you're actually going to use?" Alfred immediately led the way out of the entertainment room, which had been surprisingly empty even considering the early hour, and just down the hall to where the laundry room awaited.

A little offended, Arthur followed in a bit of a huff. "Are you implying that I don't know how to have fun, Jones?"

"Artie, you wouldn't know fun if it was belly dancing naked in front of you." The American gestured around the room, washers and dryers lining the walls, grinning a little as though he hadn't just said anything detrimental to the Brit. "The policy is bring your own stuff, but other than that it's completely free."

Ignoring the information about the room, as helpful as it actually was, Kirkland focused on the main point: the jab at his ability to have fun.

"Excuse me, Jones, but I don't think you really know me well enough to judge whether I know how to have fun or not. I've known you for a week, and you've buggered the crap out of me the whole time."

Alfred just stared at him with an oblivious smile.

"Oh yeah? Then tell me what you did that was so fun when I wasn't bothering you, Artie. Tell me what it is you do for fun."

Raising his finger in defense, Arthur realized the damned American had a valid point after all.

"I—I do plenty of fun things, but they're just things other people wouldn't consider fun!"

"Mmmhmmm. I think you need to pick up more interesting hobbies than needlework, Artie. People are going to start thinking you're an old lady in disguise."

"Doing my needlework calms me down, which is more than I can say about being in your abominable presence!"

But again, Alfred managed to just ignore him and walked off a little bit further into the laundry room to an area Arthur was pretty sure for employees only.

"This is where the maids do their laundry. They have bigger machines because they naturally have more they need to get done." As they walked into the room, Arthur saw that this time they weren't alone. Three of their coworkers were actually doing their jobs, though how efficient they were being was debatable. "Oh, hey Yong Soo, Katya, Vash!"

"Alfred!" exclaimed the woman, who was the first to comprehend the intrusion upon their…work. She had short light blonde hair that was held back with a headband, and her blue eyes seemed unusually watery. Arthur had the sinking suspicion that it might be because one of the other maids was holding a gun to the head of the last maid.

It didn't take much for Arthur to recognize the gun-wielding maid as the very one that cleaned his room. Unwillingly, the proud Englishman found himself hiding a little behind Jones, who seemed to see this scene as an everyday event.

It probably was.

"What do you want, Jones? We're busy here!" demanded the maid with the gun. He had short blonde hair and incredibly sharp green eyes. He was scarier than Arthur had ever seen him before, though it didn't seem to really bother anyone besides him and the woman. Even his coworker that he was holding at gunpoint didn't seem too perturbed.

In fact the Asian man was just spouting off nonsense about Korea.

"Haha I was just showing Artie here around; if y'all are busy, we can just leave."

"T-That may be for the best, Alfred," said the woman softly, still looking like she was about to burst into tears.

"It was nice meeting you…" murmured Arthur as he quickly left the room before Alfred, who was staying back a little to speak to the woman, who smiled appreciatively at him.

Flirtatious bastard, thought Arthur bitterly, scowling even harder right after he thought it.

He desperately wanted to hate the American, but his mind had other plans it seemed.

The Englishman didn't like it one bit.

"So that's the basement!" exclaimed Alfred as he finally departed from the blonde maid and ran up to him as Arthur waited for him by stairs. "Let's go up to the ground floor now!"

Arthur just rolled his eyes and walked up the stairs without waiting for Alfred.

"Artie, wait up!"

What he hated even more than the budding feeling he was trying to squash was the obvious fact that the American had no idea those feelings were even there.

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A/N: So I'm thinking this was one of my more lacking updates, yes? It just seems off to me, probably because I didn't really bother to go back over it and make sure everything sounded good.

Sorry :(

Anyway, just to say this now: I AM NOT DROPPING THE STORY. It's just going on a sort-of hiatus for the month of November.

Because I'm doing NaNoWriMo. Look it up if you don't know about it.

But I had to cut the tour chapter in half because I wanted to tell you guys what was going on before I just disappeared for a month (considering I haven't updated for what, three weeks?).

I feel bad about doing this, but I might write on this when I'm not feeling my story. We'll just have to see.

Oh, and as for the question posed at the end of the last chapter, Giripan won by like, a landslide. So they will be hinted at. Greece and Turkey will just be love/hate biffles.

No translations, right? I'm too lazy to check :P

Review to tell me good luck on my masochistic journey of 50,000 words in one month~ I will definitely return afterwards~ :D