America –the dense nation he is- surprisingly sensed the atmosphere when he had come home with the meals and sensed the tension between the two England. England himself was glad. He was furious at his younger self. How dare he let America leave without any kind of fight! Did he even try to stop him? Did the American Revolutionary War even happen to him? Why did England himself have no memories of an older America showing up in the past? How come he didn't remember being warned? Was history not changed yet?

On top of that, he saw there was something between this Arthur and America. America appeared so much…cheerful when talking to Arthur. Towards England he acted like a teenager being forced to avert his attention from his friend to his mother. England hated it. He hated seeing America happier with his younger self. Why was he treated with such hostility and disobedience?

He was silent as the two of them talked. It was mostly America explaining the world around them and all about New York. He told him of new food products and technology. Arthur nodded his head in wonder. England felt sick to his stomach. Where was this other England's pride? It was gone for sure. He was a dog on a leash to America. How vile. He didn't understand why it was like this.

"America," He interrupted. America turned to him with politeness, but England could see the undertone of reluctance to do so. England resisted telling him off. "I wish to spend the night. I haven't the money for a hotel room, you see, and I need to make sure you do your work."

America groaned. "Yeah, sure. You can stay. But can't I do my work another time?" He whined. America was always whining. Why did he constantly whine? He was an adult, wasn't he? England supposed not. Arthur looked unhappy at the thought of England staying.

"No, you must." England stated. "I need it by the time I go back to my home."

America made a face. "There're only two rooms, though." England opened his mouth to suggest sleeping arrangements, but Arthur interrupted,

"I suppose it won't be a problem if I stay in your room." He said with a shrug.

"That's cool, then." Alfred agreed. England stood up and walked –he tried not to storm- into the room right next to Alfred's bedroom and closed the door. There he fumed. He was furious. He felt like Arthur and America were like two teenage girls. He felt, admittedly, left out. They had a secret between them. That secret made Arthur closer to America than England. But how was that possible? What were they hiding? And why couldn't England share it?

That night England lay in his bed trying to sleep but his mind was flying every which way. He didn't even like America. The boy had hurt him too much. He disliked him. But what Arthur had said stuck with him. America had told Arthur that England hated him. But that wasn't true. It was completely untrue.

England was hurt. It was a wound that had festered and hadn't healed properly. That's why he disliked America. He had been the one to give him that wound. He had coldly and mercilessly broken off their relationship prematurely. England hadn't been ready to let him go. He had barely been an older brother to America. He hadn't had the time to cherish it. He hadn't had the time to cherish America. That's what he wanted to cherish, though. He had wanted to cherish America. He was his precious little brother.

And yet why did Arthur say that? Why did Arthur say that America had told him that England hated him? Did that mean England "hating" America upset the younger nation? Did America want to fix things between them? It was late, though. Why would it be so late? Why wouldn't America apologize beforehand? Why wait until now? And on top of that, second-handedly. He had heard it…well…from himself.

He thumped his bed furiously. "What the hell." He murmured to himself and rolled over to close his eyes. He would ask America about it tomorrow.

Soon after he tried to sleep, however, he heard voices. They were faint, though, but they were loud enough that Arthur couldn't fall asleep that well with them. He stood up and moved towards the door but hesitated. He could eavesdrop. The wall between the rooms was thin. So he pressed his ear to the wall. He took a moment to decipher what they were saying but after concentrating he got it.

"Hey, Artie, he might still be awake." He heard America say somewhat lowly. Arthur could hear bed squeaking a bit with movement. He frowned.

"He went to be earlier. Knowing myself, I would be asleep by this point in time." Arthur's voice was more muffled than America's. He also sounded distracted.

America grunted. "That's true…ha…You always fell asleep fast." His voice sounded breathier. England frowned more and pressed his ear closer, trying to decide what they could possibly be doing.

"Don't lie."

"It's true thou-oh!" England jumped at the sound as he heard a soft moan. "Ah…jeez, I didn't expect you to…nng…" Arthur didn't respond. A few moments later there was a throatier moan. "Yeah….like that…Arthur…!" England's face flushed and he pulled away from the wall. He wasn't dim. He knew those sounds. Was he misinterpreting it, though? Surely he was! They could never be…

England heard America gasp before Arthur spoke. "You've had your fun. My turn, yes?"

"Alright, sure. But we gotta keep it down." England's eyes widened more as the obvious sound of kissing filled the air. He could hear the slick sounds coming from them. He couldn't believe it. So that's what it was. America and Arthur were in a sexual relationship. The moans couldn't be mistaken for anything else. That's what the secret between the two were.

How had that even happened? How could America and England's past self get together? Why would it even be allowed? Why would either of them even accept? The sexual tension wasn't even between England and America! England had been sure that America disliked him! Just a few minutes ago he had come to terms with the fact that perhaps America wanted to be friends!

"Ah god, England!" England jumped as he heard his name called, perhaps too loud. England could feel the blood rushing to his face. And then the blood rushed elsewhere as a thought occurred to him.

"Oh my god, America is bottoming." He whispered to himself, shocked. He hadn't expected that. He was sure America had too much pride to do so but then again Arthur's pride was strong too…He shook his head. Why was he even thinking about this?

He quickly went into his bed and covered his ears with his pillow. Even so he could feel the slight vibrations as the bed in the other room hit the wall every now and again. England didn't know whether to feel sick or not and worked to get the image of Arthur pounding America into the bed and the pleasured face America would surely have as he cried out England's name and-

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will away his sudden erection. Goddamn them.

Arthur was having a wonderful morning. His body was sexually satiated from having sex with America last night and now he was having delicious food for breakfast. To top it all off, the England across from him looked exhausted and confused. He couldn't help his slight pride in the fact. He had known that England would not be asleep at that time. That's why he had initiated sex. He wanted to prove to England what the man could've –could he corrected himself for America was not his America- have.

Arthur had thought it over last night as America slept curled up against him. His arms were warm and Arthur had wondered exactly why England hadn't wanted this. Why was he holding onto the past like he was? It was utterly ridiculous. He should just let go. He was missing out. Eventually Arthur would leave. Would England step up and try to take America after Arthur left? If not, then why? He had to convince him. If this was his future, he was determined to make sure he and America were together. He would have to change England's mind to make sure they fell in love.

A/N: Okay, this is pretty short. But I wanted to write it. :D