A/N: I. Hate. Computers. Right now, I'm in my school's library submitting this chapter and...well, it's kinda of awkward. LOL, anyway, I'm computer-less until further notice, so I have no idea when the next chapter will come out (I wasn't even sure when THIS one would come out, but I found a way). So, I apologize for making you wait (this chapter would've come out today, regardless of my computer issues).

DISCLAIMER: Himaruya owns these characters, not me. I don't even own this computer. XD I'm just a desperate fangirl who wanted to please her readers. This chapter is quite fluffy and adorable, and the only warning is topless!America. OH MY! Please enjoy.

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CHAPTER FIVE

Arthur found it hard to recover from his near century long dive into alcoholism; true, he had always been one to enjoy a night at the bars and get lost in drunken fantasies, but Alfred's Revolution firmly glued a liquor glass to Arthur's hand. Even in the years that followed, only tension sparked between the two former "brothers", which took almost 100 years to die down.

It was but a decade from the twentieth century when England received that invitation, the star spangled seal on the envelope nearly screaming the sender's name. For days, Arthur replayed the script-faced words in his head, repeating the invite's contents until someone could shake him from his maddened stupor.

"Sir! Master Kirkland, we've arrived at the harbor," his attendant said.

All bleary eyed and tired, Arthur rose from his seat, shaking awake from his memory filled dream. Suppose it was the week long journey at sea that made him nauseas, but Arthur could still feel the slow climb of ill-matter slip up this esophagus.

He thanked the young man with a low grumble, making his way to the deck to take his first gander at the American land in nearly a century. New York City had gained some renown over the years, but Arthur could hardly understand how it even stood a chance against his beloved London, especially with that ghastly copper woman, perched in the harbor to welcome more than just ships.

"Ugh, Francis, you really do have awful taste," he said scowling, remembering the one responsible for such a monument.

Arthur walked out onto the docks, taking in that last breath of sea air before hopping into the luggage-filled carriage and heading towards Alfred's house. His body quivered nervously, unsure of what to make of his first peaceful visit since America's younger years. He was still wary of the invitation; relations between the two countries had smoothened out, but only between the men running them. The nations themselves were a different story.

The carriage stopped in front of the city residence, the largest one on the block. Arthur stepped out carefully, minding his step on the stone street below. Glancing up, he took in the atmosphere of Alfred's house, and the red, white, and blue flag billowing in the soft, evening wind. "You can do this, Arthur, just a few more steps," he convinced himself, slowly making it up the stoop stairs, his feet heavy like bricks.

In the span of what seemed like an eternity, the Englishman raised his fist to the door, tapping lightly against the oak finish. It opened at almost the same time his knuckles parted from the wood, a young girl in a black and white dress waiting at the entrance. "Oh! Master Kirkland?"

Nodding slowly, Arthur's mouth spat up little more than coherent babbles; of course Alfred would have maids, but he had a small hope of his former colony greeting him at the door instead of…

"Tabitha, is that Arthur?"

Both heads at the door turned to the stairway inside, a half dressed Alfred smothering a towel through his blonde hair.

"Yes, I believe so, Master Jones," the young maid answered cheerfully, quickly giving the guest one more look over to determine his existence.

Alfred leaned on the railing, flicking the towel over his shoulder. "Please, Tabby, stop with the formalities! I told you, Alfred's fine," he said, his warming laughter hitting Arthur like a gust of wind.

Of course, the entire moment left the man quite speechless; to see Alfred looking so attractive blew him away. Sure, his appearance was far from proper, but not from appealing, with his stunning abs glossed with post-shower dew and his wet hair sticking to the sides of his bright and smiling face. Arthur couldn't stop himself from staring, his cheeks growing hot with more than just embarrassment.

"Arthur! You came early," Alfred cheered, breaking the Englishman's plight of school girl ogling.

Keeping his eyes down, Arthur cleared his throat, answering his host quite inaudibly. "Hm, yes. Sorry…"

Another soft laugh filled the foyer before Alfred returned upstairs. "Tabitha, could you show Arthur to his room, please?"

The young girl nodded, leading her guest inside and grabbing his bags. "Please follow me upstairs, Master Kirkland," she said, walking gingerly up the stairs, step by step. "Master Jones has been quite excited for your visit. He's been talking about it all week!"

Arthur still felt awkward in his surroundings, the surreal experience of visiting America continuously paining his stomach; Tabitha did little to help the indigestion. "Really," he said softly, following the maid into the guest room.

A coy sort of giggle answered, Tabitha's small frame waiting in the doorway. "Dinner should be ready soon. In the mean time, make yourself comfortable."

Tabitha shut the door softly, leaving Arthur in the thick air. His trembling sigh led him to the bed, where he began to unpack the clothing set for the week: a whole week of this. He groaned painfully, clutching to his rumbling in his stomach.

Glancing around the room, he spotted a bureau against the wall and brought his neatly folded clothes over to set them inside. Atop the bureau sat two photographs of the past decades: Francis and Alfred stood beside one another in front of that tacky statue from the harbor, and a solemn photo of Alfred on the battlefield during his own Civil War. A quill pen sat between two photos and Arthur's fingers shook as they inched closer to the while bristles.

"Hancock gave that to me after the signing," a familiar voice said from the doorway, causing the curious guest to gasp and back up in shock.

"Al-alfred!"

The taller blonde leaned against the door frame and smiled, walking over to grab the quill to twirl it between his fingers. "Such a small memento, but it means so…"

He stopped, his blue eyes staring right through Arthur, the smaller man shaking and scowling like a stubborn pup.

"I'm glad your décor means so much to you," he mumbled, keeping his eyes to the floor. The mood only grew more uncomfortable, Arthur's incessant twitching reminding him that he couldn't possibly survive a week in this man's house, especially with the possibility of him strolling around topless with the godly form out in the open. The memory of his arrival at the house painted his cheeks pink and was met with a gentle laugh from the other party.

Arthur looked up, only to meet with Alfred's hand splayed out, as if to beg for money.

"May I escort you to dinner, Mr. Kirkland?" So maybe he had the wrong description for the gesture.

Swallowing thickly, the Englishman took his host's hand, but kept his eyes far from contact. "Please, Alfred, you think that's being a gentleman?"

Alfred squeezed his guest's hand tight, leading him out to the hall with a coy smirk on his mouth. "I only learned from the best," he answered with a wink.

The wink assured Arthur once again: it was going to be a long week.

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...to be continued

Ho ho ho, Arthur, I love you in "school-girl" mode. XD

~erbby