Even if all he wanted to do was stew in his thoughts alone in his house and ignore a certain American - who was sure to ring up sooner or later to complain (after having sulked over an argument that was entirely the brat's fault in the first place) and continue to annoy him - Arthur could not just ignore work. Unlike the aforementioned American, Arthur knew his work was important and had no inclination to just abandon it for a day of self-pity.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he forced himself to get up and head up the stairs to prepare for his day, leaving the bomber jacket on the back of a chair in his kitchen to drip dry first. After a quick shower Arthur stood with the towel wrapped around his waist and his hands braced against the sink as he stared into the fogged up mirror above it. With an annoyed huff he wiped his hand across the cold surface trying to make the reflection slightly clearer but only managing to catch a glimpse before the image fogged up again mottled even more by new drops of water he had created with his palm. Giving up he returned to his room to get dressed.

Opening his closet he selected another one of his suits to wear for the day before glancing at the alarm clock he hadn't heard go off from downstairs and swearing colourfully as he realised just how late he was running. Damn that America for causing such a big disturbance yesterday and throwing his schedule off track! Now Arthur didn't have time to make a cup of tea before he had to rush out the door and hail a cab, since there was absolutely no hope of making it on time even if he ran to the station and through the crowds to his train.

He yanked on his shirt and trousers and slung his tie around his neck before grabbing his shoes and running out the front door, at the last second he had stopped the door from closing and dashed back in to grab America's jacket off the chair and his keys from the table where he had thrown them yesterday.

"Bloody hell!" he growled under his breath as he one more ran out of the house, his arms overflowing with shoes, a bomber jacket, a suit jacket and keys hanging off his little finger where it was hooked through one of the rings. He had some luck in grabbing the first taxi that came past his house but it wasn't until he had told the driver his destination and they had pulled away that Arthur began to finish clothing himself and he realised he had forgotten his socks. "Fuck!" he shouted. The cabby glanced at him through the rear-view mirror but wisely didn't comment for fear of further provoking the stressed man.

When Arthur finally stormed into number 10 that morning he was finally fully clothed but very rumpled, his shirt wasn't pressed neatly and tucked carefully into his trousers as it usually was and his tie was slightly crooked and the knot was wrong. Perhaps if he had been able to see his reflection in the mirror that morning he would have noticed the messy hair and the bags under his eyes and been able to do something about it. But he hadn't and now the stares he was getting from his fellow workers was only serving to irritate him further.

Turning his glare on anyone and anything that even remotely seemed to be looking at him he stormed down the corridor and slammed open the door to the room he usually worked in. The man who shared this room looked up quickly from his desk before he rifled through a stack of papers on his desk and continued frantically to talk on the phone.

Since the man was busy and seemed to be accustomed to the glare, Arthur threw the jacket down on his desk before collapsing into his chair and just sat, staring (scowling) at his own stack of work in front of him.

"Sir- no sir, please wait a minute," whoever was on the other end of the line seemed to be in a rush and would barely stop to listen to Arthur's colleague. "I don't think that would be appreciated by your-" again he was cut off and even from across the room Arthur could hear the loud laugh. "Really! No, it's not-at least let us cover the expenses."

Throughout the entire conversation the man had shot nervous glances towards Arthur and it was making him very suspicious. Careful to appear casual Arthur stood up. The man backed away a step and turned around to face away from Arthur. Slowly Arthur approached making no sound until he stood directly behind the man who seemed to sense him and had stiffened and tried to lower his voice as he continued to plead over the phone. Again the person on the other end laughed and Arthur was finally close enough to recognise it. How could he not when that laugh of indifference was so often directed at him?

"Alfred!" he roared angrily and snatched the phone from the terrified worker. "What the bloody hell were you thinking, you complete and utter... where the hell do you get off just storming off like, like, like that!" he finished lamely, not even bothering to lower his voice from a shout.

"Woah! Dude, inside voice!" Alfred exclaimed on the other end.

"Inside voice my arse! Answer my bloody question!" he demanded but never the less forced his voice down several decibel.

"Arthur..." he sounded so... tired? Alfred was never tired, even after long plane journeys he was always full of energy so why now?

"No forget it, I am not doing this over the bloody phone. Where are you?" he demanded and was met with silence. "Ame-" he glanced at his colleague who was staring somewhat flustered and confused back at him, "Alfred?" he corrected, afraid that the nation had just hung up on him. His voice had become incredibly tentative and soft, almost a whisper.

A heavy sigh crackled through the speakers, "Yeah?"

"Where are you? Did you really go home?" why the hell did he sound so venerable dammit!

"No. But I'm not sure I wanna talk to you right now." Alfred gave a low self-deprecating chuckle. "It's funny, I came to cheer you up but I somehow just ended up hurting myself again huh?" Arthur frowned not sure what he meant. Was he really always so horrible to the American?

Before he could ask a third time he heard a click signifying Alfred had hung up followed by the dial tone. Suddenly inexplicably angry again Arthur rounded on the man standing behind him.

"You called him right?" he glared.

"Uh, well no. Technically I called the hotel to verify the use of his card. The uh, President of the united states has contacted us asking for him. It's all on your desk actually." the man shrank back from the look on Arthur's face.

"I don't care! You know where he is so just bloody tell me." why did people insist on pursuing specifics when he was obviously in a hurry?

Looking as if he feared for his life he stammered out the address and room number of the hotel Alfred had booked into and Arthur took off only pausing to grab Alfred's jacket from his desk.

Alfred was staying in a cheap (for London) hotel just down the road from Heathrow. After hanging up on Arthur he looked away from the window and down to his few possessions (namely the glasses he hadn't bothered to put on yet since he wasn't fully awake after being forcefully dragged from his bed early to answer the call from some guy in Arthur's government) and wondered if he should just leave his bomber jacket behind and hope England would return it at the next world summit.

Shrugging he decided the plane journey could wait until he had taken a shower and hunted down some breakfast. He grabbed the towel from the bed and headed into the tiny bathroom.

Not ten seconds after he stepped out of the shower he heard thundering knocks at his door. Checking the time on his phone quickly he saw it was only half ten (Jeez so early!) and he had another hour and a half until he was supposed to have checked out of the hotel. Behind him the knocks continued and the entire door shook with the force being applied to it.

"Alright I'm coming!" he called slightly exasperated at the person's impatience.

Stepping up to the door he pulled it open completely forgetting that all he was wearing was a small fluffy white towel wrapped around his lower half.

"Alfred Fucking Jones... what are you wearing?" Arthur started off angry but ended confused and stared openly at the towel.

"Wha? You...I... but... I told you before that's not what the F stands for!" Alfred blushed scarlet and wrapped his arms over his chest in an attempt to give him some protection from England's bemused look. "My eyes are up here you know." he added petulantly.

"Huh? Oh yeah." Arthur quickly looked away and cleared his throat, going pink. "This is so awkward." he looked back at Alfred this time keeping his gaze pointedly to his face, "Well, are you going to let me in?" one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

Alfred stepped away from the door and ducked back into the bathroom to retrieve his clothes and redress himself before coming out to face the older nation who had followed him into the room and was standing on the other side of the room near the small window.

"So, lucky guess?" Arthur looked confused, "How did you find me?" Alfred clarified.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Idiot, the guy who called you in the first place? He told me of course!"

Alfred put on a shocked face, "I feel so betrayed! I told him not to tell you where I was!"

If Alfred expected an indignant response or even to just be cursed at he was disappointed. In a quiet voice Arthur asked, "Why?"

Surprised, Alfred just stared at him. Arthur was gripping one arm across his body and refusing to meet Alfred's eyes. Still looking at the floor he repeated his question.

"Why are you avoiding me now?"

Still trying to decide what was happening and considering the possibility that this was actually a dream he was having after slipping in the shower and hitting his head, Alfred reached for Arthur. He took Arthur's chin in his hand and turned his face towards him.

"I'm the hero right? I always come to save you when you really need it." he paused to smile sadly, "I just want to help you but sometimes, it's so hard Arthur." he dropped his hand from Arthur's face. "Sometimes I just wanna walk away and never come back to you."

Arthur's eyes widened in fear and he grabbed Alfred's hand before he could pull it back to his side. "No!" he begged.

"Arthur?"

"Please you can't. Not again. I can't..." there was a wild gleam in his eyes as his fingers dug into Alfred's hand almost as if he were trying to physically stop Alfred leaving him. "Why, what did I do? You said that I wasn't with you but I am, I'm here now!"

Memories from last night and his dream of the revolutionary war muddled together in Arthur's tired and worried mind. He both feared losing Alfred again and felt confused about why it was happening.

At the sheer panic in Arthur's eyes Alfred relented and finally gave in "It's okay, I'm not going to leave." he hushed the other man and tugged him forward into his arms. For once Arthur didn't struggle in his arms or complain when Alfred wrapped them around him and held him close.

"Bloody wanker." was muffled against Alfred's chest causing Alfred to grin in amusement.

"Yep." he rubbed his hands up and down Arthur's back trying to comfort him.

Pulling away until they were at arm's length again, Arthur looked up at him and seemed to gather his resolve.

"Will you tell me what I've done please? I don't know how I have upset you so much when I tried so hard to just be me around you." they watched each other for a second.

"Arthur, I have something I have wanted to tell you for, well longer than I really want to admit." he would do this, Alfred decided. He didn't want to be a friend anymore.

He would just have to hope and pray Arthur wouldn't hate him for it.

Cliffhanger :) I have discovered my spell-check dislikes Alfred. Every time he is in possession of something he gets a red squiggle. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?

Thanks for reading :)