A/N: Ah. Hello, all. This is a bit late, isn't it? Apologies about that - I was editing the chapter, and then just as I was trying to save it my cat trod on my keyboard and closed the tab /sobs
And anyway, I've been oh-so-busy recently, and updating this wasn't quite the biggest priority. I was also feeling a little disheartened when I re-read my previous chapter - I suck at romance, I know. A shame for someone who's written a romance story, eh?
Anyhow, I'm not dead, so I deliver to you chapter 14 - hope you enjoy it!

Please leave a review if you have the time - constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Disclaimer: Hetalia = not a thing of mine. Yeah.

Arthur awoke to the sunshine pouring onto his face, stabbing through his cloud-covered dreams and dragging him to reality. He groaned thickly, wincing at the throbbing pressure in his head - and a mysterious pressure on his arm. He turned his aching head in confusion to glance at his arm - and nearly had a heart attack.

Alfred was asleep next to him. Lying on his arm.

And their legs were entangled…

"Get out of my fucking bed, you wanker!" roared Arthur, leaping up and instantly wishing he hadn't as his head spun sickeningly. Alfred gave a noncommittal grunt, fumbling around for his glasses, and looked up blearily as he rubbed his eyes.

"Hmm? Oh, g'morning honey," he yawned, and Arthur stared at him in horror.

"Honey!? Honey!? What - where - what did we do!?" he wailed, realising his memory was a complete blank from when he'd seen Yao leaving with Ivan, save from the occasional flashback of stumbling home and giggling wildly and pointing to unicorns in the sky.

...Oh god, Ivan. Ivan and vodka. Which meant -

Bloody Hell.

He'd gone and gotten drunk out of his mind. On their date.

Bloody Hell…

What did they do? What sort of horrifying things did he do under the influence of - oh-thank-fuck-he-was-still-fully-clothed.

Alfred's smile faltered at the Englishman's words, and was replaced with a look of concern.

"W-what? You mean you don't… remember?" he mumbled, sounding put out and hurt.

Arthur winced inwardly, guilt pricking at him. So, evidently something had happened, despite the clothing reassurances, and now Alfred was upset for an unknown reason. Shit.

"Ah, I wouldn't say... I don't remember, per se," he stalled, rubbing his throbbing head as he tried to dig up the memories desperately.

Alfred bit his lip, and glanced away. "No, that's fine. I... I figured you might not remember. 'Cause you were drunk and everything. I… I took advantage of you," he said brokenly, and Arthur felt his heart shred itself.

"I'm so terribly sorry if I led you on," he said awkwardly, avoiding the American's gaze, and he heard a sad sigh.

"Nah, we just... kissed," Alfred said simply, swinging his legs over the bed and standing swiftly. "Like I said, it's fine - it's my fault, and - " he broke off stiltedly, and was gone before Arthur could even respond.

There was silence in the room for a second, as Arthur tried to collect his thoughts within his pounding head.

…They had kissed? And Arthur didn't remember!?

God, he was a prick.

He stood from the bed wearily, automatically straightening the sheets and stretching as he tried to conjure up the memories from the depth of his mind - but to no avail.

The worst part of the whole situation was that he didn't even feel regretful about the kissing - as he expected he might - only that he couldn't remember a thing about it.

"Excuse me, Amelia - have you seen Alfred anywhere?" Arthur asked the young maid hesitantly, and she looked away awkwardly.

"Um. I have, yeah - he's over in the laundry room," she said, and Arthur had the sinking feeling that she knew about their predicament… was he the only one in this house who hadn't known that they'd kissed!?

He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Thank you, love," he mumbled, and slowly made his way to the laundry room. Although it pained him to admit it, he knew he needed to give a proper apology for getting drunk on their sort-of-not-really-date; not to mention the fact that Alfred had some explaining to do.

He sighed as he paused in front of the door. Since when was a simple wooden door so imposing? He figured it was locked, but tried the handle anyway. The door didn't budge.

"Ah… Alfred? Y-you should unlock this - I mean, could you… gah," Arthur grumbled to himself as he fiddled with the laundry room lock. There was an irritated huff from inside, and Arthur pouted at the realisation that Alfred sounded very much like an impertinent teenager - who wasn't willing to listen.

"Go 'way Artie. I'm not in the mood for your emotional games," came the growl, and Arthur crossed his arms as he rolled his eyes. Okay, time to try a different approach. Less sympathetic, and more… demanding?

More like your usual self, he thought wryly, and made another attempt to approach his butler.

"Now, is that any way to talk to your master? You really do need to get some manners, my boy," he replied snippily. There was no reply from the door, save from a frustrated sigh. Arthur felt his patience level lower as he tried again, false-irritation replaced with real annoyance this time. "Alfred. Stop being such a little brat and talk to me like a man!"

Silence from within Fort Jones.

"Alfred -"

"I'm more of a man than you! At least I don't lead people on!" the reply was a muffled cry, full of sanctimonious pride and youthful indignation.

"In case it's slipped your vast and empty mind, I was drunk. You took advantage of me, Jones - and, being the amicable gentleman I am, I'm willing to see past that!" he stated breezily, trying to ignore the guilty twisting of his heart. If Alfred took that the wrong way, he might think Arthur was mocking him - which was not his intention, even if he was just trying to coerce his frien- butler from the room he was locked in.

There was a small, abashed cough muffled by the door.

"Ah. Y-yeah. I'm sorry about that, I guess," Alfred grumbled, and Arthur could practically see his childish pout, "But you seemed pretty eager, and I guess I just forgot you were drunk! And you looked so… lovely last night, framed by the moonlight," his voice continued, more softly this time. Arthur was struck with the strange dual sensation of wanting to violently puke and melt into a sappy pile of goo at the same time; part of him was repulsed at the cheesy, Hollywood movie line but the romantic side of him was not faring so well.

"Yes, well - I'm not a girl," he eventually choked out, hearing a small huff of laughter this time from the other side of the door.

"I didn't mean to dampen your testosterone, dude! I just meant that you looked pretty last night… pretty hot, that is," came the voice along with a chuckle, and just like that, the awkwardness was shattered. Arthur nearly sobbed with relief, but halted before he embarrassed himself. Instead he allowed himself to smile, pleased with their interaction despite the door still separating them.

Unlock it, git, he pleaded internally, but continued to retaliate to break down Alfred's defences.

"Well, that goes without saying - I'm a smartly dressed, capable, organised, handsome and respectable gentleman - unlike some people I could mention."

"Ha! I dunno about the handsome part. I mean, look at me!" Alfred's voice resonated through the door, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I can't see you, dolt. There's still this door in the way, and-"

"Oh yeah! Oops, silly me," Alfred said easily, and the door swung open. They stood there in silence for a second, Arthur staring pointedly at the floor and Alfred shuffling his sneaker coated feet embarrassedly. Arthur cleared his throat delicately, looking up to catch the American's blue stare - and gave a sigh of relief at the warmth in his eyes.

Alfred grinned at the shorter man, enveloping him in a hug and prompting a choked gasp from Arthur as he pressed his forehead against the other's shoulder.

"Do you forgive me, Artie?" Alfred mumbled seriously, "Because I forgive you. Sorry about the apple bobbing," he added meekly, and Arthur bit his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"Ah - only if you admit that Halloween is a waste of time," he retaliated with a mumble, eyes catching on the way Alfred's glasses slipped down his nose as he laughed.

"Aw man, that's harsh! But fine, Halloween-sucks-and-I'm-only-saying-this-to-get-a- kiss!" he said hastily, lurching forwards with his eyes clenched shut. Arthur stiffened, leaning back almost instantaneously, and winced as Alfred's eyes opened again, brimming with hurt.

Alfred coughed awkwardly. "Sorry - I just - I thought -"

"No!" Arthur interrupted him with a cry, then cleared his throat. "It's not that I don't - I do want to. I just wasn't ready. Or prepared. Or something."

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed. "So can I... am I allowed to...?" he trailed off uneasily, and Arthur smiled encouragingly at him.

"Yes. Kiss me, you dolt."

Alfred needed pressed his mouth softly to the other man's. Arthur stiffened for a second, and Alfred nearly growled in frustration - what, was he changing his mind again!? - but then Arthur kissed back, his eyes fluttering shut as he smiled against the other's mouth. Alfred let himself fall into the bliss of it, and came to the rather hazy realisation that Arthur was a much better kisser when not drunk - which was saying something, considering how elated he'd been during said drunken kiss. The two remained for what could have been seconds or hours, wrapped in the haze of them, until Arthur drew away for a second and looked round almost anxiously.

"Sorry - I don't want to stop, I just... look. This is fine, wonderful even - but you know, we've got to keep… this as secret from my maids. I mean, as a Butler and Master it doesn't look too - I mean, as we're both men it - and," he stammered, and Alfred grinned as he placed a hand on the other's shoulder, tilting his head down slightly to stare at him straight on.

"And what would you call 'this'?" he chuckled, and Arthur's expression turned sour.

"Well, if you're just going to make a joke of it then I'll just-"

"I'm completely serious! What are we, exactly, would you say?"

"I think it's pretty obvious, Alfred -"

"I want to hear you say it. Go on, it won't hurt you - hopefully," the younger man teased.

"... Well. We're - ugh, we're partners, I suppose," Arthur muttered, mouth twitching into a smile despite himself.

"You look in pain," Alfred said with a smile. "It's a good thing, right?"

"... Yes. I'm just not used to saying it, that's all."

"Well, it's about time you started!" the American said. "Now c'mon, let's get back to our gentlemanly, butler-y duties before Alice comes looking for us."

Arthur followed his butler with a smile.

For two complete opposites, it was a sweet relationship, at least in Alfred's opinion. He got a pretty good deal, after all: it was like a package that came with free food (albeit somewhat repulsive food), a huge house, and the most important detail - a short, angry, smart British fellow who for some reason had fallen head over heels in love with him.

Yeah, it was pretty neat. Alfred found himself not minding the workload, instead using it as an incentive to get Arthur to reward him in some way or another - usually through the form of takeaway, much to Alice's displeasure - or even a few extra kisses or so.

They argued; of course they did, it was how they were built to work - but work they did, and it made their relationship all the better because of it. Whether it was Alfred muttering about Arthur's stick-up-his-ass personality under his breath, or Arthur snidely getting Alfred to do the pettiest of tasks - it worked, and even the maids noticed the lighter tone of the house - despite Arthur's pleads to keep their relationship quiet.

Still - speaking of the maids, and of Arthur…

Alfred grinned at the man currently asleep on his shoulder with a smile. They'd somehow managed to persuade both Amelia and Alice to leave the house, involving tickets to a movie and spending money on cooking utensils (no prizes for which bribe was for who), and therefore the two partners had the rest of the day to act like a normal couple - at least, as normal as a socially challenged Gentleman and an obnoxious Butler could be normal. At the moment, Alfred was watching some mind-numbingly dull documentary about washing detergents and the way they affected society. It was really boring, but it wasn't like Alfred was really watching the documentary; his attention was focused entirely on Arthur, who had been reading some crusty Shakespearian novel until about five minutes ago wherein he had dozed off. The book lay abandoned on the sofa armchair, and Arthur and was currently snoring softly on Alfred's shoulder. It was kind of cute, in Alfred's opinion, but he wouldn't ever tell Arthur that - the man would probably hang, draw and quarter him for butchering his manly pride. Anyway, it was much nicer to just sit here, listening to him breathe… not in a creepy way, of course! That was something more down Gilbert's road, or maybe even Francis', in a 'romantic' way.

Alfred grimaced as he unwillingly thought of the Frenchman. He hadn't spoken to Francis since Plan 3 had taken effect, and although he didn't plan on staying away from him entirely he still found himself getting irrationally angry over it - after all, it did work to some extent, in the form of their rather fruitful date. In addition, he realised he didn't particularly want Arthur to have to get involved with him; he'd already figured out that the two had quite a strange relationship and didn't want to re-kindle any fires.

On that train of thought, he was instantly reminded of the bet, and felt his expression twist into one of misery.

Ah, the bet. The source of all his troubles, but strangely also the source of his relationship with Arthur. Or not so strangely, depending on the original point of the bet - but the outcome was certainly different than what he'd expected. He realised he'd actually forgotten about the bet recently, due to the events taking place, and found himself extremely reluctant to pursue it now that he had remembered. He smiled bitterly as he realised that if he gained 'proof' of their romance, he could actually be a winner of the bet - but he also knew that winning would involve having to reveal the truth to Arthur through some way or another, and that was top on his list of Things He Didn't Want to Happen. So, now that he was actually with Arthur, in a steady-but-unfortunately-secret relationship, he realised he'd have to just admit defeat. He sighed thoughtfully; he knew he'd have to tell Gilbert about him giving it up soon, as the end of the second month was coming hauntingly close. However, he felt a certain reluctance to do admit defeat… which was probably related to the fact that he didn't want his no.1 secret to be shared with all the people Gilbert knew (and oh, there were a lot), as well as the fact that he'd feel guilty using his-but-really-Arthur's money to pay for the loss.

He could wait another day or two, he was sure of it. After all, they had time, and they'd only been in a relationship for the shortest time. For now, he had a soft, warm and sleepy Gentleman now drooling on his shoulder, and that was enough to keep his attention focused. And Alfred was known for having a short attention span.

Lazily, he lifted his hand to run it through the blond locks tickling his neck. Arthur gave a huff as the warm hand woke him up.

"Guh, Alfred… I've been working hard all day, and I barely slept last night. Can't I have a few moments rest?" he mumbled irritably, swatting a hand in the direction on the American's fingers running over his scalp.

Alfred snorted in amusement. "Uh, you're talking to the wrong guy about working hard! Seriously, you should see my workload. I have this boss who gives me all this work - so unfair!"

"I'm dying of laughter here, truly."

"You'd better be! Anyway, why couldn't you sleep?" Alfred asked with a grin. "Is it 'cause you were thinking about a certain someone all night?" he teased, and Arthur's mouth twisted into a smirk.

"Yes, and her name's Jessica. She's a really lovely girl and I-"

"LIAR!" Alfred roared, pouncing on top of the Englishman and tickling him mercilessly.

Arthur screeched in surprise, bringing his hands up weakly to defend himself against the onslaught. "Ah, Alfred, that's… Eek! Stop it, g-git!" he giggled, flailing desperately as he rolled perilously close to the edge of the couch.

Alfred ignored the Englishman's cries, diving in for a quick peck on the cheek as his hands continued their onslaught in tickling Arthur could only hunch his shoulders to protect his neck as he batted at the American, and suddenly noticed his head was nearly off the sofa. And judging by the sudden pull of gravity that mean that…

They fell off the couch.

"Oof!" Arthur gasped as the air was knocked out of his lungs when he hit the floor. Alfred was to follow shortly, landing heavily on top of the smaller man with a yell. Arthur's mouth opened as he felt himself crushed by the American, and wheezed slightly as he tried to prop himself up on an elbow. Alfred immediately scrambled off, glancing towards his friend with an apologetic smile. Arthur glared at him.

"Okay, so no more tickling?" Alfred queried airily.

A smirk lit up Arthur's face cruelly, replacing the glare as he leaned towards the increasingly nervous American lad. "Well, I wouldn't go as far to say that," he said darkly, and Alfred's eyes flashed in fear.

"Nu-uh! Heroes don't get attacked! Heroes are strong and fearless and - Eiyaa, not my neck! Ohgodohgodohgod!" he screeched, rolling around furiously as Arthur got his revenge. Arthur grinned crookedly, eyes narrowed in mirth as he tortured the younger man.

"What was that?" he asked casually, sitting up more to attack the American's neck. "Could it have been an apology?"

"N-no! I don't EVER surrender! The Hero is - OKAY OKAY I'm sorry! Sorry! Gack!" Alfred practically wept, tugging furiously at the leering Brit's wrists.

"That's not enough, Jones, I expect to hear you begging me for forgivene-"

"…Ahem."

A small, polite cough interrupted Arthur.

…

"A-alice!?" sputtered the gentleman, "W-what - I mean, that is to say… uh…"

"Yes, sir?"

It was obvious the maid was trying to remain formal, her tone clipped and her eyes downcast, but judging by the way she was flushing and shuffling her feet it was evident she was fairly embarrassed.

Alfred cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing the now bright red Arthur frozen above him. He'd presumed Alice would pass off the time she'd seen them kiss as a drunken mistake, but now - Alfred gulped audibly as he noticed their somewhat… compromising position. Arthur had crawled on top of him for easier access to his neck, and with Alfred's hands still grasped around Arthur's thin wrists he could see how the situation could be interpreted wrongly.

Alice coughed again nervously, breaking the deathly silence. Arthur took this as a cue to leap hastily off the American man, shuffling backwards to find the sofa. When his hand hit the soft cushions, he hauled himself up until he was perched innocently at the edge. Alfred sat up from his position from the floor, rubbing a crick in his neck just as Amelia bounded in.

"Allie, were you even listening to me? I told you, that movie was - oh, hey guys!" she said brightly, but faltered at the silence that followed. Suddenly noticing the awkward tension in the room, she glanced round curiously. "Right, who's been caught kissing the back of their hand?" she asked accusingly, glaring round the room.

Arthur cleared his throat and looked pointedly at the maids."Could you excuse… us for a moment?" he required politely, gesturing to a flushing Alfred. The two maids nodded in unison, Amelia in confusion and Alice in embarrassment, and the British maid hurriedly dragged the taller girl out of the room.

As soon as the two workers had left, Alfred collapsed next to Arthur and released a sigh of relief.

"God, that was so weird! I mean, we had to pretend like we weren't keeping a secret from them and everything!"

"Alfred, you idiot! If you want to keep it a secret, shut your bloody mouth! They can probably still hear us," Arthur hissed in exasperation, and Alfred chuckled at his panic.

"Dude, don't worry. I have this all under control - I'll throw 'em off the chase," he boasted. Arthur's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"And how do you intend to do that?" he responded dryly. Alfred grinned.

"Well, I'll just run out there and snog Amelia! Then they'll know I'm straight!" Alfred tried to keep a straight face at the look of horror pasted on Arthur's face, but he couldn't hold it. "I'm joking, I'm joking!" he giggled, clasping a hand on the furious Brit's shoulder.

"You'd better be," he responded darkly, smiling only slightly as Alfred laughed jovially. This man sure knew how to charm someone, that was for sure.

As Arthur went to collect his novel, Alfred shrugged his jacket off and slung it over his arm. As he did so, he realised the jacket pocket was missing that familiar 'crinkle' from the original list of plans for the bet. He'd intended to get rid of it, but he'd eventually just left it in his pocket for fear of one of the other house dwellers finding it in one of the bins. He couldn't remember moving it from his pocket, which meant…

Eyes widening worriedly, he glanced around the room in an attempt to look nonchalant. He spotted the offending paper lying on the carpet where they had earlier collapsed from the couch. He shuffled backwards casually, dropping to his knees and reaching for the paper with one hand while his other went for his shoelace.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah, just tying my laces," he excused himself, picking up that darned piece of paper and hurriedly stuffing it in his pocket.

Arthur seemed appeased with the explanation, and leaned back tiredly. "Love, I'm going to have a nap now. I'm still tired, and I'm sure you can get on with some work or something while I'm sleeping. I'm sure you can assure the maids that nothing happened. Is that all right with you?" he mumbled incoherently, and Alfred smiled warmly at him as he stood.

"Sure thing, master," he chuckled, and made for the door. A small, insignificant cough interrupted his moves, and he turned around expectantly.

"L-love you," Arthur mumbled hurriedly under his breath, averting his gaze from the Butler as he stifled the phrase with a cough.

Alfred grinned big. "Same goes to you, Artie!" he said excitedly, and spun out of the door breezily with a happy hum. Arthur huffed in amusement, his embarrassed flush fading as he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

With Alfred as his Butler - and now, something more - he didn't think he could be happier.

A/N: Oh yeah, that happened. Did I rush it? Is it terrible? Or well-deserved? C'mon, it's been 14 chapters - I think they deserve a little fluff.
Anyway, please review if you have any burning criticisms, compliments or reviews. Thank you!

~eyebrow-extravaganza