It had been three days. Three bloody days since Alfred touched him. Not even in a sexual way; it was as if America was purposely avoiding any kind of contact with Arthur. They didn't kiss or hold hands and hug-hell, America seemed to try not to graze his hand when passing him a fork at dinner. It was like nothing ever happened between them and that hurt worse than anything.

That evening England decided today he would speak to Alfred about how rude it was to have sex with a person on their own kitchen table then carry on each day like it was nothing. It made the other feel used and upset and lonely and… Well, Arthur was mad at the bloody git for treating him like some cheap prostitute! Arthur Kirkland was no one's prostitute! He bought prostitutes! And they certainly were not cheap, either!

So England waltzed downstairs perfectly set on telling America what for when he saw his housemate cooking a meal. He looked kind of cute, whistling the Star-Spangled Banner in his socks and short t shirt. England smelled mashed potatoes, corn bread, fried chicken and green vegetables.

"Wow," he said incredulously. Alfred glanced sideways at him, clearly not realizing Arthur had even been in the room. "I can't remember the last time you cooked something that wasn't your disgusting burgers."

There was that haughty smirk again that Arthur had never really seen on Alfred's face before. It looked almost menacing. "Wanted something different today," America answered. England still could not shake a feeling lodged in the back of his mind that something was not right. The usual nonsense that spilled from Alfred's mouth a mile a minute hardly ever said a word lately.

"America, I wanted to talk to you-" He grabbed Alfred's shoulder, set on spinning him around and letting him know every thought he had about prostitutes and proper etiquette to someone you just slept with, but none of that had a chance out of his mouth. The big oaf decided instead to spin around and slither his tongue into Arthur's waiting mouth without so much as a warning. Arthur should have been angry with him, but there was that thought again of how long he waited for Alfred and how wonderful his tongue was gliding around, and oh he was grinding their hips together now too, and before he knew it, Arthur was willingly being pressed into the counter top with Alfred rubbing his thigh against him tauntingly. Though what was worse was not how Alfred gripped so firmly to England's aching member but how America so rudely withdrew completely to finish cooking. Arthur was still hard and aching for Alfred to relieve him of it… He could do nothing but walk away miserably to solve the problem himself.

What was wrong with this boy? Did England really raise him to be so rude? Arthur couldn't help though to blame himself. He wanted Alfred so bad that he let that conniving boy take advantage of him. He was controlling England whether he knew it or not. It was absolutely awful. If England didn't love Alfred as much as he did he would kick him out and feed him to the dogs. Of course that wasn't an option.

o0o

Alfred was curled up in Ivan's guest bed, feeling very scared and very alone. It had been three days since Russia kidnapped him. He wanted to go home and eat his own food and watch his normal TV set and be with his people. No matter how angry they were at him.

Of course even if he did go back, he wouldn't be safe. He'd be crushed. Destroyed. They had lost faith in him...everyone lost faith in him. Kiku wanted to take American resources and probably make alliances with the CSA. That hurt him down to his core. He couldn't even trust England. He couldn't trust anyone. Now all he could do was sit and wait for his demise. It was such an un-heroic thing to do.

"I'm supposed to save people," he mumbled into the darkness of the unfamiliar bedroom. America really hated to admit it but he needed help. Though no one wanted to protect him.

The only possible savior he had was Canada. If England cared at all for him then he should be on the prowl. It had been three days-wouldn't Arthur notice Alfred was gone? Probably too busy thinking of ways to make me his fucking colony again, he thought miserably.

After running through a list of countries in his head, Alfred realized most of them had a reason to attack. Then why hadn't anyone done anything? Were they all just waiting for America to cave in on itself? The modern civil war to destroy the country from the inside? Yet Russia said everyone was after him. Ivan was just faster at it. He had no idea what was going on with the rest of the world so if anyone had ever tried anything America would have no idea. Russia made it a point to wreck every television set or radio and hid the newspaper from his unwilling guest.

"Can't let you get any ideas, lapushka," Russia giggled in response once Alfred questioned his methods.

Not only did Alfred hate the nickname, he hated the way Russia now thought so small of him. "Fuck you," he retorted and hid back in his new bedroom.

America hardly took any time to wander about the house and usually stayed inside the bedroom Ivan first placed him in because he didn't exactly want to get familiar with the house. Though, despite trying to spend as little time as possible in other rooms, Alfred couldn't help but notice how empty Russia's giant home was. Weren't the Baltics living there too? America hadn't seen them anywhere. Wouldn't America have heard something about that? Then again, America had been cut off from everyone for the past few months. He didn't exactly have time to worry about what was going on in Russia's part of the world.

Alfred glanced at the clock and realized he had barely slept at all. It was around three in the morning and it bothered him that Russia was still awake. He could see the light on under the crack of his door. What could he possibly be doing at three in the morning? Ivan had been awake almost every night now; was it something to do with America? Alfred began to panic as he thought of that possibility. Was he going to violate him? Maybe he already did! Maybe he did every night after poor, helpless Alfred went to sleep! Maybe he killed England! That's why Arthur hadn't come looking for him yet! Maybe it was actually the apocalypse outside and it was just Russia and America left in the entire world!

That was it! America was not going to sit around like some scared little girl and let Russia take over the world! He flung his feet out and threw open the door, stomping into the hallway to give Russia a piece of his mind.

A/N: So I promise things will be more interesting in the next chapter... This was super dull and I'm sorry… I just wanted to update something so I could let you guys know I'm not really sure the next time I'm going to be able to update again. It will probably just be a little over a week. 12 days at most. Possibly less. Its really up in there at this point. Soo. Yep. Well. I'll see you then!

Translation: lapushka-little paw