"ALFRED! I SAID WAKE UP! IT'S ALREADY NOON YOU BLOODY GIT, I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR HOURS!"

The American dropped to the floor suddenly, waking him. He cried out in surprise and scrambled to safety, in other words, under the table. Was he being attacked, did the guards find their way in the room?! The prince's thoughts were interrupted by soft chuckling, faint, but loud enough to be heard. He knew that laugh.

"ARTHUR!?" the American jumped to his feet and nearly tackled the other man, causing the other to cry out. Alfred didn't care about that, all he cared about was Arthur. He scooped his friend up in a hug and began to swing him around, laughing and cheering. He only stopped when the brit begged him to, fearing he would throw up. "Arthur, you don't know how scared I was!" his eyes began to water, but he didn't mind, considering it was just Arthur who would see. "I thought I was going to lose you!" Tears began to spill.

Arthur swiftly wiped them away with his thin fingers and gazed at the American before him. Alfred looked into his emerald eyes, drowning himself in their glow. The prince couldn't ignore the look of defeat lingering in the other's eyes, or the sorrow, or the fear. He wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he couldn't, he knew he couldn't, not until he gave his friend a proper meal.

"Why am I wearing a nurse's uniform?" The brit asked when he looked down at his outfit. Alfred waved it off, saying it was a long story.

He lifted the brit up like how a knight would pick up his lady, much to Arthur's protest, and carried him out of the infirmary. It was probably around noon, seeing that his maids and butlers were already bustling about. They stopped and stared at the prince in shock and awe, no doubt a million questions racing their minds. Alfred approached one of them and spoke.

"Two heavy breakfasts, as you can see my friend here is awfully thin. I'm leaving it up to you to oversee his weight."

"Yes sir!" the maid said quickly, a blush creeping to her cheeks. She had long, light brown wavy hair, and olive green eyes. They were pretty, but nowhere near as beautiful as Arthur's.

What?

The prince shook his head in bewilderment before he sent the girl off, making his way to his chambers. He unlocked it and crept inside. Despite his orders, it was clear maids were in his room; the curtains were drawn, the bed was made, and the pillows were replaced. He glanced down at the man in his arms and found that he was sleeping, a light snore could be heard. He smiled fondly as he reluctantly woke the brit up with a soft shake, planning on taking him a bath. He heard a grunt, then felt a hard pinch on the bicep.

"I need my rest~" the brit groaned groggily, rubbing his eyes awake. Alfred hummed as he made his way to his private bath. "Where are we going?" Arthur asked softly, though he quickly added with a harsh tone "I could get to wherever we are going with my own two feet!" he squirmed in the prince's arms weakly. Alfred let him down with a hum, rolling his eyes as he saw his tub was already full. He dipped his finger in it, and saw that the water was still warm. Why won't his servants listen to directions?! He began pouring liquids into the water, giving it a lavender scent. Alfred then began to undress, wanting to feel the warm water caress his skin. He only stopped undressing when he heard a choked squeak come from behind him.

"Artie? You alright?" he asked as he turned around, thumbs still hooked in his undergarments. It was the last article of clothing he had on, and he really wanted it off. It was becoming uncomfortable and it was beyond soiled, though you couldn't really see that because they were black.

"No I'm not alright! What are you doing?!" the brit before him had begun to inch back slowly, eyes blown out in fear. Alfred had no idea why Arthur looked so scared, but he figured it was the same reason as to why he looked so sad earlier that morning. Alfred hummed softly as he slowly approached the Englishman, wrapping his arms around him when he got close enough.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you, you know that. Or at least I hope you know that..." he looked down at the brit, who was currently burying his face in his chest. Alfred continued when he felt a nod against his chest, running his hands through the other's hair. "Relax, we're going to take a bath. You know what a bath is, right? I'm not planning on drowning you or anything."

He hummed softly as he began to undress the other, beginning with his shirt. He felt the other whimper against his chest, burying his face deeper. When he pulled the shirt off, only then did he see how red the brit's face was. His eyes were still blown out, but the second the shirt was off he buried his face in the other's chest again.

When the pair was done undressing, or rather, when Alfred was done undressing them both, Alfred entered the bathtub gently, not wanting to spill the water over the edge. He turned to see Arthur standing there awkwardly, covering up his man parts with the prince's shirt. Alfred ignored what the brit was doing to his shirt and instead held out his hand, beckoning him forth with a stern hum. He heard the other whimper as he took his hand, dropping the shirt on the ground. Alfred smiled at the sight before him, soaking up the other's lithe figure.

WHAT!?

The prince shook his head wildly as he closed his eyes and counted to 10. What was wrong with him? He felt the water level rise as it approached his neck, the shaky breaths of his guest urging him to open his eyes. The image before him was breathtaking. Arthur's pink lips were pressed together, his thick eyebrows raised. His cheeks were a wild red, and his eyes were just as feral, obviously looking at the prince's physique, taking it in the same way he was. Alfred's eyes began to descend, taking in the thin frame of the man before him. He was pale still, though he had gained some color over their expedition. His ribs were painfully visible, but the way his waist pinched in made the prince's mouth water.

Arthur's body was more on the feminine side despite having... parts. His thighs were plump and his legs were long and smooth, dainty feet to finish it off. Alfred lifted one of these feet and began to massage it. At first there was some protest, the brit swearing he was ticklish, but then Arthur began to settle down and allowed the American to continue in peace. Alfred kept his eyes on his companion's expressions, looking for any signs of discomfort. Arthur seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it, his blush pink and his eyes hooded. Small gasps were spilling from the Englishman's lips, along with curses and pants.

Alfred dropped the task at hand, much to Arthur's dismay, and began washing the brit's hair with shampoo, rinsing it twice. He conditioned it quickly, not realizing how close he had got to Arthur until now. He was a mere 3 inches away from the other, washing his hair. Arthur took it upon himself to close the distance, placing his face in the crook of the other's neck, breathing in his scent. Alfred hummed in satisfaction, and slight discomfort, the action being slightly intimate. He never let anyone scent him before, well, except Matthew and his parents. Alfred returned the favor, dipping his face to bend of the brit's neck before breathing in. The smell was thick and prevalent, the smell of a forest after it had rained. Alfred could feel himself getting drunk off of it.

The Englishman's arms managed to wrap itself around the prince's neck as he drew himself closer, purring. Alfred felt legs wrap around him, causing him to pull back slightly and glance at the other's face. As expected it was red, but his eyes were not only feral, but this time lustful as he dragged the American's face downward.

Mwah

Alfred didn't realize they were kissing until he felt Arthur's tongue in his mouth, making him do the same. They fought for dominance, but ultimately the prince won. The brit moaned against his mouth, pulling away suddenly.

"Artie?"

"My hands are getting prune-y" he said with a blush. Alfred figured that was a nice way of saying he wanted to stop, so he hummed in acceptance. He washed his hair and carefully stood up and left the tub, pulling Arthur out and carrying him like a bride. Arthur didn't complain this time, content with the notion. They remained naked, not wanting to dry off too quickly. They wanted to see each other's body's for as long as they can. Alfred dressed in his usual attire, a white blouse and blue trousers. He raided his closet and found some old clothes that barely fit the brit and told him to wear it, reminding himself to get Arthur some clothes.

Knock, knock. Knock

"Come in" The prince grunted as he fastened the shoelaces on the brit's boots. He swore he would have to teach Arthur everything. The maid from before walked in, pushing in a cart with two trays on it and a two glasses. There was a wine bottle and a big bowl of various fruits, causing the American's mouth to water. As badly as he wanted to dig in, he had matters to attend to. He told the maid to prepare a fine wardrobe for Arthur, telling her to get his measurements after breakfast. He also told her to tell everyone that there was going to be a meeting at 8 o'clock regarding the disappearance of one of the British servants.

Arthur was far too absorbed in the eggs he was eating to pay attention to the prince's demands but Alfred figured it was for the best.

~~~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~~

Breakfast didn't last as long as Alfred had hoped, and soon the maid returned with some supplies for taking Arthur's measurements. As much as Alfred wanted to stay, he knew he had important things to do, one of them being three days' worth of paper work. He left the room with a quick goodbye, placing a soft kiss on the brit's forehead before shutting the door behind him. He walked leisurely into his office, noting the piles of crap on his desk. Well, this was going to take forever.

Alfred plopped down in his comfy chair and picked up the first sealed envelope he saw. He hummed as he looked at the blue seal on the document, recognizing it instantly. It had been a while since he had communicated with Francis. He opened the envelope and pulled out the tart parchment, reading it in his mind with the accent he knew the Frenchman to have.

Oh my dear comrade,

Is what I hear true? Is the great king George of America deceased? Killed by a pack of British savages? If it is true, then it is a dark time in America. I am planning a trip to your fort in the upcoming week, to make sure you and Matthew are fine. While I am there I shall pay respects to your late father, and speak on important matters of France. I am still waiting for consent, Alfred, or should I say, King? My countrymen are willing to continue this alliance, but only if our terms are addressed. What are our terms? Well, I discussed this with your father these terms, and he had failed to give me a response. I am counting on you to not have me sit here like a fool.

My first caveat is quite simple. The people of France demand the repossession of the newly acquired American island of Tunis. It was French soldiers who fought at the battle of Tuckers, not Americans, so it is only fair that the island be added to French territory.

My second Caveat is the access to your trade routes throughout the Mediterranean with a reduction in taxation of my merchants. It is a simple request, seeing that the French are such loyal trading partners with your country.

And my last caveat, is to solidify our alliance through marriage. I wish to take Prince Matthew's hands in my own and present him to my people as my queen. You know full well that I have been on my throne for a matter of years, though I am no older than you, I do know a thing or two about the benefits of this. You already know the extent of my feelings for your brother, and keeping the love of my life away from me is the vilest deed a man can do.

I beg of you, Alfred. Please return Matthew to me.

Alfred stared at the letter, feeling a pang of guilt for his comrade. The prince thought all of the terms were rather reasonable, and he didn't oppose the third request. Matthew had been rather lonely for the past few years, throwing fits every time he saw their father, blaming him for ruining his life. Matthew was overreacting of course; his life wasn't over. Matthew and Francis were close friends, and they would occasionally have slumber parties. King George never really approved of their friendship, fearing it would progress into something deeper. Queen Martha thought it was okay though, and the friendship progressed. However, the American Monarchy quickly dissolved their relationship after a maid had told the Americans of a particularly steamy night between the two teens.

They had mated.

According to Matthew, it wasn't Francis's fault. The American's heat had come on suddenly, and Francis was taken over by primal instinct, unable to resist the beta's scent. Matthew had a bite mark in the crook of his neck, signifying that he had been claimed, but that didn't stop King George from sending Francis back to France, never to have any contact with his son. That didn't stop either of them from trying, and so the king reluctantly put Matthew under house arrest, keeping him under 24-hour watch.

Alfred still thought Matthew was lucky, at least he didn't get pregnant. He couldn't imagine his father's reaction; he'd probably declare war.

Alfred hadn't realized he was working on autopilot, ¾ 's of the way through. There was a soft knock on the door, and Alfred hummed in consent. The same maid from before came in and informed that the meeting he had scheduled earlier had already begun. Alfred nodded in understanding and rose from his seat, following the servant to the grand hall. Once seated in his throne, he gave everyone a stern look before beginning.

"I am sorry for being late, I got lost in my work. I have a few matters to address." The room was silent, suddenly tense. Knights gave each other wary looks, confusion and a little fear. Alfred cleared his throat and looked around. He couldn't find Arthur. Perhaps he was sleeping? Alfred pushed his worries aside and continued. "You all know my savior, Arthur Pendragon; the one who saved Antony and Marcus from execution."

The crowd nodded solemnly, muttering slurs and indecencies. It appears that their prince's vouch wasn't enough to soothe their suspicion of the Brit. Alfred's mind was racing; if he couldn't convince his people that Arthur was a friend, they would neglect or abuse him whenever Alfred was away overseas. And the prince would have to do that soon, he would need to be at his coronation in the capital. Alfred needed to set some rules. "I want no form of hostility directed towards him in any way!" He declared, or rather yelled to the crowd.

Everyone was still once again, not expecting of the sudden burst of anger. They nodded their heads slightly, and the prince continued. "You are never to hurt him Physically. If I ever hear from him that any of you had harmed him in any way, not even god can save you!" He said in a growl. He cleared his throat and spoke again.

" Now, a few days ago, my British guest told me some troubling news. His brother, a young British man with blonde hair and blue eyes, with a clubbed foot, was taken by a group of knights and left behind to die." He let that sink in, everyone in the room standing still. Alfred knew that no one was going to confess, or tell on anyone. He had to think on his feet.

"So, if the knights who killed this boy want to confess to me anonymously, you can do so in secrecy. For those of you who knows something, or think you know something, no matter how insignificant, you can talk to me in full disclosure. Uh ... for the knights who confess, they will be stripped of their knighthood, and sent back to America with all the money they had earned and go their way. Um ... for those knights who were caught, and didn't come forth, you will not only be stripped, but you'll be banished from my country and... your wealth will be divided to those who had sold you out!"

Alfred breathed out heavily, mentally tired. He patted himself on the back for thinking that up so quickly. The crowd began to look around greedily, mummers filling the room. Alfred was ready to hit the hay, the people in front of him quickly annoying him.

"Is that understood?" when there was a quick, and loud, 'yes', Alfred nodded in acknowledgment. Another thought popped up in his head and he quickly blurted it out. "These confessions will start tomorrow afternoon." He didn't want a line of people pestering him tonight, he was too impatient to deal with it. Alfred excused himself, telling his people the meeting was adjourned.

He quickly made his way to his chambers, unusually excited to get into his room. He would, before he met Arthur, wonder around the fort until he was at the brink of slumber, only then retiring to his bed. At that point, he would sleep a dreamless sleep and wake up with an empty feeling. He'd take that over night terrors any day though. He had them frequently, but nothing awfully traumatic ever happened to him that would cause him to be scarred for life. At least nothing he remembered.

The farthest his memory went back to was when he was about 11 years' old, meaning he only remembered 8 years of his life. Why? He doesn't remember.

He knocked on his door and waited patiently. When he no one answered, he knocked again, but louder. Still no answer. Before he could kick down the door, it swung open to reveal his brit wearing a white laced night gown that did little to cover anything. Alfred couldn't stop himself from licking his lips. Arthur noticed and blushed scarlet, huffing out an indecency.

"Elizabeta made me wear it. She said if she checks up on me and I'm not wearing it she won't make me her 'famous' bacon and eggs. I like bacon and eggs..." he rambled out before trailing off, to focused on the American who had wrapped his arms around him.

"I don't mind at all..." he said with lust filled eyes.


Arthur blushed heavily when he felt Alfred's soft lips kiss along the outer shell of his ear. He was humming again, but the Brit didn't mind it anymore. He found it soothing now. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around the prince's neck, burying his heated cheeks in the crook of it, sniffing.

Alfred's scent was a strange smell, nothing the Brit could pin point. He could make out some aspects of it, like the saltiness of the ocean, a metallic smell, obviously from his armor. He was a knight, probably the best in the fort. Arthur could almost imagine the American sweating on a hot day, muscles bulging due to the vigorous training he was enduring. The Englishman moaned at the thought.

When Arthur forced himself back into reality, he realized he was now pinned under his companion. Before Arthur could protest, Alfred's lips were already on his. The Brit tried to go along with it, but he was getting anxious. Alfred would never hurt him, right? He just wants to test the waters, rights?

He doesn't want to have sex, right?

If he were to say no, he'd stop, right?

He wouldn't try to take advantage of him, right?

Arthur couldn't stop the fear from taking over, making him panic. He was still pinned, so he did the only thing he could.

"SHIT! FUCK! JESUS CHRIST, ARTHUR! What was that for!?" The prince yelled as he sucked in his bottom lip, trying to soothe the cut the Brit had bit into it. The Englishman scooted all the way to the other side of the bed, eyes still wild. The prince must have noticed, because in a second he was right beside the Brit, pulling him into a hug. Arthur was baffled, to say the least, but he allowed it, calming himself with the Alpha's scent.

"I got scared, and I thought you'd just ignore me if I said stop" the Brit whimpered, shaking.

"What?! Arthur, I would never do that to you! I thought I told you that I would never hurt you." The prince pulled Arthur onto his lap, kissing him softly. Arthur smiled, deciding he liked being babied. He wrapped his arms around his neck once more, apologizing with soft kisses to the abused area. He could feel the American smile, kissing back gingerly, minding his lip. After a couple of minutes, Alfred left to the bathroom to change, leaving Arthur alone on the bed, thinking about his day.

He had woken up several hours before the prince. He was too out of it to care though, his forehead begging him for relief. Being too tired to move, he waited for Alfred to wake up. Arthur noted the nurse's outfit he was wearing, but when the American was awake, he didn't feel like pressing it, a bit too numb to care. He had failed his family for the second time. Alfred scooped him up and hugged him, accidentally giving Arthur a little whiff of his real odor.

Arthur wanted more.

Alfred carried him off and walked him to his room. Arthur enjoyed it thoroughly, but he fussed a little, needing to save face. He hadn't noticed he had fallen asleep until the prince shook him. The brit came to his senses and escaped the American's grip, embarrassed he about his behavior. The prince led him into the bathroom, where a tub of water was waiting. Soft steam was rising from the pool of water, and the Englishman's aching muscles began to beg for it. He only realized the situation he was in when he saw the American in only his underwear. At the moment, he could only think of the very American expression:

Buy a guy dinner first!

He freaked out, backing away, planning on running to safety. He would have run if he didn't see the confused innocent look on the prince's face, as if he had no idea how inappropriate this situation seemed.

An American alpha prince undressing before the only surviving omega son of a British militant leader.

Alfred promised not to drown him, though the thought never really crossed his mind. He feared what was in the boy's pants more than anything really. He could see how big it was through his black garments; it was much bigger than the broom handle, and much wider. Arthur hadn't been eating well for half of his life, a cock that size would crush him. The brit had lived through a lot of shit, survived through a lot, but there was no doubt in his mind that if that penis was forced into him, he would die.

He was wrapped in a warm embraced, where he had gotten another chance to smell the prince. He buried his face in the others chest, feeling his cheeks burn. He threw his arms around the American, trying to keep balance, suddenly dizzy. He was under too much stress, he never felt so weak before. Before long, he felt his clothes being tugged off gently, embarrassing him even more. The American stripped him of everything he had on, i.e. the nurses outfit. When Alfred was done, he walked over to the tub and lowered himself inside, releasing a sigh.

How could he feel relaxed when he's so exposed?

Arthur grabbed the first article of clothing he found and covered his vital areas. He heard a stern hum come from the prince and he knew it was for him to stop bitching and enter the tub. So he did.

Not the bitching part though.

When he entered the tub, he instantly had mixed feelings. The water did wonders for his aching muscles, and the tub itself was huge leaving more than enough room for the two to stretch out without touching each other. However, it let the American gaze at his body like a piece of meat, and Arthur wasn't sure if he felt comfortable with that. Though, the brit couldn't say he was any better, considering he was doing the same thing.

Alfred, like he had imagined, had a beautiful chest with light fuzzy hair littered across it. His abdomen rippled in the water, and the veins of his biceps were bulging, just the way he liked it. Arthur noted powerful thighs and sharp calves, licking his lips as he did so. The brit, unfortunately, couldn't stop himself from eye guzzling the man's member, suddenly finding its existence arousing. Speaking of arousal, he could smell Alfred's from where he was. He blushed, flattered. Most people wouldn't find such a creature as himself attractive, he appreciated that at least one person did.

He felt hands on his feet suddenly, and he couldn't help the jolt that sped through his body, making him laugh. He kicked and squealed but the American ignored it, pressing his thumbs against the sole of his achy foot.

'Nnh~'

Arthur blushed at the noises he was making now, moans pants, anything lewd really. He threw his head back, feeling himself get all worked up, wanting the treatment to stop and continue at the same time. This tender stimulation was unprecedented, and Arthur was losing his composure quickly. He whimpered out the prince name quietly, so low that he could barely hear it himself. His cock twitched, and he had the urge to touch himself, but he wasn't that out of it to actually do that. Yet.

Suddenly his foot was dropped and hands were in his hair, cleaning it. Arthur sat their patiently as the prince scrubbed, not wanting any to get in his eyes. He remembered when he was younger, while he was working for sir Ector at the manor, he had gotten the substance in his eyes while he was taking a shower. His eyes burned and they watered uncontrollably, despite the print on the bottle saying it was a 'no tear' formula. He never touched the stuff again.

He was suddenly anxious, and wanted to rinse his hair out, but he willed himself to relax. He breathed in Alfred's scent again, becoming almost limp. He felt as if he were floating every time he smelled the prince's divine odor. He felt water get poured over his head, assuming that the soap was gone now. He threw his arms around the American and breathed in harder, feeling the American do the same. The brit couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body, wrapping his legs around the prince, who pulled away a little to look at him.

The next thing Arthur remembered doing was pulling the American down harshly and shoving his tongue in his mouth, exploring it. When he felt the other doing the same, he felt a sigh of relief, unsure of how he would have reacted if he were rejected. He'd probably think Arthur was a whore, or something like that, Arthur couldn't have that. The brit smelled the Americans pheromones, much more potent up close.

Alfred was kind of horny.

The Englishman broke the kiss, suddenly self-conscious. They weren't going to have sex in the tub after he had just woken up from a coma, that was so cliché. He made up some half-assed excuse which didn't look like it convinced the prince. There was a slight pause before the American nodded, climbing out of the tub. At first the brit thought he had offended him, but when the American scooped him out of the water, he was reassured of his safety.

Knock, knock, knock.

Arthur was instantly out of his thoughts, shocked, looking around dumbly as he sat up. What was going on?

"Arthur? You in there?" a soft voice called out. Arthur sighed in relief, knowing exactly who it was. He stood up and made his way to the door.

"Yes, Elizabeta?" he asked annoyed. He wanted her to understand his grievance with her, making him wear such a thing in front of Alfred. He heard her snicker as she pushed the door open with her butt, holding folded clothes in her hand. Before Arthur could question, the servant spoke.

"I got you sexier apparel to impress your man, just like you wanted!" she squealed, a little too loudly for his liking.

"For god's sake, Liz! Alfred is in the other room! And I never asked you for these!" he said as he traced one of the tunics gingerly. It was green, a soft green with gold threading that made it look grand. It had soft floral patterning that you could hardly make out, so minute and detailed that it was almost impossible to tell what it was from a distance. There were a few dresses that he didn't agree with, not comfortable showing off so much thigh. The callers of these clothes all dipping well below his collar bone, almost exposing his nipple. He could never wear any of these out in public.

"Do you like them?" Elizabeta asked hopefully.

Arthur looked up at her and saw the fatigue in her eyes, suddenly questioning where she got the clothes from. He knew she was a busy woman, cooking, cleaning, shopping all while parenting a daughter. She was married to the fort musician, and she worked non-stop, cooking for hours at a time to feed dozens of knights. Of course there were multiple cooks, but she served the food too, and went down to the ports to get the seasonings. Arthur didn't want to be another chore for the poor Hungarian.

"Did you go all the way to the markets to buy this for me?"

"Yes!"

"No! don't do that anymore. It is an hour walk from there to here, I don't want you straining yourself anymore. You are already overworked! I swear if you collapse from exhaustion- "

"Sorry it took me so long, my button was stuck..." The American walked into the room, cheery smile disappearing, replaced with confusion, and slight annoyance. Everyone was silent, but the implied question coming from the American's humming was hanging in the air.

Did he mention the prince was in his underwear?

"Uh... I was just leaving..." Elizabeta started, making her way out.

"Yes, good, but what were you doing here in the first place?" the prince sounded calm, and looked calm, but there was something about that calm that was slightly unnerving. Servants weren't allowed in when he was in unless they had permission. Elizabeta knew that, and her faced pale, leaving Arthur surprised about how quickly the mood changed. He decided to interject.

"Alfred, I'll explain, but Elizabeta here is very busy at the moment, so she has to go." The Hungarian was already gone by the time the brit was at the door, locking it. Why did she get so scared?

"What was she doing in here?"

"She came to deliver some clothes she got for me." The brit offered, pointing at the pile of clothes on the bed. Alfred approached it, black garments perking up his ass just a little. Arthur watched as the prince inspected the clothes skeptically, humming as he did so. The brit approached him, touching his bicep carefully. "Do you like any of them?" the Englishman didn't like the silence; it was so unnatural for the man.

"I like them, but you are never going to wear this outside of this room, you know?" Alfred turned to face him, eyes possessive and aggressive, as if the idea of anyone seeing the brit in those clothes was offensive. Arthur was strangely flattered, but a little irritated at the same time.

"I wouldn't be comfortable wearing this anyway, but even if I were, you couldn't stop me from doing so."

Alfred looked unamused to say the least, glancing at the brit behind him with cold eyes. He looked slightly hostile, as if the brit just challenged his authority. Which he had, he realized. Before the Englishman could rephrase, the American was facing him fully, his jaw doing that thing. You know, the thing boys' jaws do when they're angry.

"There are plenty of ways I could stop you from wearing this." He said with a soft growl, dangling the article of clothing in the brit's face. Why Arthur actually liked that dress, the pattern was intricate, so he snatched the dress away from the rude American. Alfred made a grab for it, but the Brit twisted his body in time to save the dress, diving on the bed and bringing himself into the covers.