A/N: As you can see, not having access to my own computer will not stop be from writing fanfiction. XD This is techinically the last chapter, but there will be a Epilogue. For sure. And extra chapters. Maybe. I hope this you all enjoy this chapter! And thanks for reading. Your support and reviews mean so much. Heee~. 3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia or these characters. They belong to the ever-so-fantastic Himaruya. This chapter has some adult content, but it's not that hard core so a T rating should suffice unless yells at me. ENJOY! :D

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CHAPTER SIX

Dinner proved to be sufficiently awkward; Arthur could barely remember how his food tasted, let alone how it looked. Too many things harassed his mind, the resulting headache draining out Alfred's attempt at idle chatter.

"But he was a great guy. Shame he got shot, but I heard the play wasn't that great anyway," the American said, his fork busy shoveling food from his plate to his mouth.

England responded with a soft grunt and a nod, tracing his plate lightly with the silverware in hand. The resulting science project of his dinner was a good distraction, keeping the Englishman's attention away from Alfred's dazzling blue eyes; a gentleman had to watch out for embarrassing moments. Of course, such courteous customs had their own disadvantages, such as forcing the conversation into the direction of a horridly awkward silence.

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to play with his food. England's efforts at keeping his pride made him forget his table manners. What a foolish mistake.

Arthur sighed and placed his fork beside his dish, glancing up at those damn eyes with a sort of reluctance. "How's Francis? I know you two have become quite close," he said in a near whisper.

Letting out a soft laugh, Alfred's cheeks tinged with blush and he nodded, breaking the short eye contact he made with his guest. "He's doing well; built me that statue of Lady Liberty out in the harbor. Have you seen...?"

"Yes, I have. Ghastly design..."

America smiled and glanced out into space, a warm and content sort of feeling lingering over his face. "He's a good friend; has been since the Revolution. True, it took some time warming up to him, considering our relationship before, but we're much closer now."

Arthur kept his vision as low as his voice, the slight pause affecting the tone. "How close?"

"We bonded over you," Alfred finally said after much stinging hesitation, his volume matching Arthur's.

Their eyes met for a blank moment of uncertainty before the Briton's cheek blazed red. "Excuse me," Arthur croaked, flustered by his part in the bonding of two countries.

Alfred chuckled and placed his elbows on the table, his chin gently resting on his folded fingers; his eyes retained that dream-like gaze. "It was really fun, actually. He'd tell all these embarrassing stories about you and I'd give him a few of my own. We'd laugh, have a drink, and tell some more. It helped to pass time during those sleepless nights of the war."

Groaning, Arthur rolled his eyes. Every word out of America's mouth made his stomach tighten in rejection of the conversation. "Hn, well I'm glad embarrassing stories of me helped to pass the time, but I'd rather not listen to more, thank you very much."

The younger man laughed and reached out to grab his guest's arm, tugging it in jest. "Aw, come on! It's fun!"

"No! No, it's not," the Englishman yelled, standing up with firm determination to leave the room before it was covered in the contents of his stomach. He pulled his arm from Alfred's grip and turned to rush out of the dining room and out towards the staircase. "I don't feel very well, so I'll be turning in for the night."

"Arthur?"

He could barely stand it: his role in the bond between America and France; those blue eyes recollecting memories of better-to-be-forgotten stories; that damn dinner and its invisible taste. Why he ever accepted the invitation from America was beyond his knowledge, if he knew this sort of nonsense would occur. All he cared to focus on was a cozy bed and a good night's sleep, but his hopes for the near future were destroyed before Arthur made it to the next floor.

"Arthur, wait!"

He gasped, surprised to hear that voice so close from behind. Arthur's foot slipped on the next step, the ceiling now parallel to his shocked face. His body plummeted back, but luckily Alfred's arms could break the fall before it turned into a bloody mess.

Arthur glanced behind, his vision locked on the stern disappointment on Alfred's face.

"That wasn't very polite, Mr. Kirkland," he said, scooping up his guest and carrying him up to the second story landing.

Alfred's act was met with much kicking and screaming from the smaller party, but Arthur had no hope of escaping his former colony's firm grip.

The guest room door flung open and shut at nearly the same time before Arthur's backside hit the bed with a resonating thump. He glared up at Alfred, his thick eyebrows furrowed above his nose. "I'm not being polite? Do you think this is any way to treat a…?"

Arthur froze, Alfred's body propped above him and blue eyes staring deeply into green. Again, the realization of America's growth as an independent country hit Arthur with a glance over his well-built frame. No small child should ever grow into this handsome of a man. But this one did, and the familiar heat returned to England's face.

"It's been too long, Arthur. Don't run away from me," Alfred said, nearly begging in a voice of apparent sadness. "I've had to deal with so many confusing emotions in my life, all of them regarding you, and they only cleared up thanks to Francis. If it wasn't for him…"

Arthur glanced up in the pause, admiring the look of building strength in Alfred's eyes before he opened his mouth once more.

"…I would've never realized how much I loved you."

The room froze, Arthur's body growing numb to the cue of tears welling up in his eyes. "Alfred…"

The younger man smiled, reaching his hand over to wipe away the stream of tears from Arthur's eyes. "I wouldn't be the man I am today without you, Arthur. Ever since I met you, you've been a constant thought on my mind," he spoke softly, the other fingers of his hand brushing through blonde strands of hair. "The day I saw the two of you together, I just…I had no idea how to react! I couldn't stand the sight of Francis having you in a way I couldn't. It drove me insane, Arthur, and I needed him to tell me why I…

"Oh, shut up," Arthur groaned. His hands locked behind Alfred's neck, hairs being tugged as the younger man's shocked face collided with a hungry kiss of century long desperation.

It took too long to discover the sweet taste of Alfred's tongue, but Arthur savored the moment as strong hands savored the light curves of the Englishman's frame. A soft shiver jolted up his spine as he felt fabric and fingers run down his legs, the kiss only deepening as clothing flew across the room.

Arthur's hands took the chance to pull of Alfred's shirt and once the kiss was broken, took the opportunity to sit up and push the younger man down upon the bed. His fingers traced the edges and curves of Alfred's muscles, noting the light scars covering his flesh.

"H-hey, what are you…?"

"Getting a better look," Arthur bluntly stated, straddling Alfred's hips and inspecting every detail of his torso. His fingertips lightly danced over a larger, more prominent scar just above the American's navel. A soft pout dressed the older man's lips, his eyes lingering on that scar. It seemed fairly recent, and Arthur knew it represented a difficult time in Alfred's personal history. He sighed lightly, meeting those solemn blue eyes with tear glossed green. "Alfred…"

Alfred chuckled, propping his body up against his elbows and taking Arthur's curious hand in his own. "Let's not worry about scars, Arthur," he said, placing a gentle kiss upon those inquisitive lips and wrapping his arms tightly around him.

Somewhat offended, Arthur let out a small grunt to the peck, but followed suit and delighted in the feel of such firm hands on his thighs. The sensation was something his body craved, not having been touched for so long and virgin to this particular flesh on his own. His impatience was evident in the sounds that emitted from his body, his hands clawing at Alfred's back.

Alfred's mouth quickly slipped from lips to throat, nibbling gently on Arthur's trembling skin. His hands took the duty of exploring that much desired body, fingers trailing lightly over Arthur's incredibly smooth skin, running his hands up and down twitching thighs.

An accented cry broke from Arthur's voice, his hips rolling up and against Alfred's, both bodies desperate to be quenced. "Alfred," the Briton croaked, hazy eyes watching blond hair swift and stick against his sweat dampened chest.

The blond looked up and smiled, his hands tightening their grip on Arthur's hips. "Say it again…"

Arthur shivered, glaring at Alfred with a growing impatience. "Wh-what?!"

Giggling, Alfred closed what little space lingered between their faces, nipping on Arthur's pouting lower lip. "My name," he whispered.

Arthur groaned, but found it hard to disobey, crying out Alfred's name in exuberance in time to a thrust deep into his body.

Fingernails dipped deep into the American's back. Hot breaths trailed down the Briton's neck. Wet kisses and throaty moans met with rolling hips, driving the rhythm to a speedy pace, moments flashing past and lasting like eternities.

Arthur could hardly remember a time when it felt this good to be in someone's arms, when it felt so right. He closed his eyes, reveling in the heat of Alfred's body inside him, above him, around him, with him. Tears managed to slip through only to disappear to kisses on his eyes. This was no time to cry, no matter how happy those tears may be. Arthur's eyes fluttered open, catching sight of Alfred's lips and meekly kissing them as his senses were overwhelmed, the quick rush of euphoria releasing from both of their bodies.

Tired and spent, Arthur's body flopped against the bed, his fingers lazily drifting off Alfred's shoulders. Though not as intensely as before, his eyes scanned the younger man's body, taking in every detail before the vision faded.

Alfred curled up beside Arthur, that happy smile tucked just behind his ear. "I love you, Arthur," he spoke, his voice soft and gentle and filled with genuine emotion.

Again, the familiar heat and blush returned to Arthur's cheeks, his hand gripping the one resting on his chest tightly. "I've always loved you, Alfred," he said, barely audible, but the kiss behind his earlobe proved that he was still heard. He smiled meekly and closed his eyes, the previous illness in his stomach long gone.

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...the end. (BUT NOT WITHOUT AN EPILOGUE, SO STAY TUNED!)

Thanks for reading, guys! I love you ALL!!!

~erbby