A/N: Here it is, folks! It's the ever-anticipated fourth chapter! Enjoy (and don't be afraid to give me suggestions or constructive criticism)!~
Disclaimer for this chapter and the last one: I DO NOT own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters!
Now that that's overwith, onward!~
Setting: In front of America's House- 2:00p.m. (yes, I calculated the time starting from 7 a.m. in England + the 12 hour flight, minus however many hours time difference (I looked on my phone's world clock XD)
***
He should have expected it.
He really should've expected it.
Before he had called a taxi and begun his way to where he was now, America had told him that his house had undergone some remodeling, but he'd never expected anything this extreme.
So what could he do but get out and gape when the taxi screeched to a stop in front of what looked to be an exact replica of the White House from the outside.
"There's no damn way..." Arthur whispered in what was a mixture of awe and disapproval.
He checked the address again. Nope, he was definately in the right place (for once in the past two days).
"What'll he do next- build a replica of the Statue of Liberty?" he muttered to himself as he slammed the taxi door shut and walked down the sidewalk that bridged over the freshly-cut lawn to the front door.
Alfred answered the door unpon the second knock. Either he'd been expecting him, or he'd made replicas of White House cameras, also.
Arthur decided to bet on the second one, judging by the other's lack of proper clothing.
"England, you caaame!" America yelled in joy like he used to when England came to visit when he was little, not even aware of the way his being in only shorts and lacking a shirt made it awkward.
Arthur, who'd suddenly seemed very preoccupied with his feet, was looking sheepish for his brother, but couldn't feel that way for long because America pulled him abruptly into a giant bear-hug whilst giving him a noogie.
"A-America! I c-can't b-breathe!" he gasped, trying to catch his breath in the chokehold.
But, despite his protesting, England had to admit there was a side of this position that made it kind of nice. What with the scent of America so tempting to his nose and the utter closeness of their bodies... The way their chests touched that made him able to feel the other's warmth.
The rapidness of Alfred's noogie slowed down and, for a second, it almost seemed that his intention was to try to prolong the moment. Arthur would've pulled away on his own if Alfred hadn't first. He'd made a pact to himself. No matter what, he wouldn't admit to the other man that he had any emotions other than the normal towards him. And, as all good things must come to an end, they broke apart from the embrace.
Arthur didn't dare look up at Alfred's face. He was so quickly realizing his true feelings after all this time, but he was afraid that if he looked up and America didn't have the same look on his face as he had, he didn't know if he would be able to handle it. Things were so confusing to him right now; it was frusterating.
It was Alfred, of course, who finally broke the silence much like he'd broken the hug.
"So, shall we enter, Mr. President?" he joked, stepping back in the doorway and to the side to gesture in a broad, and unneccessary, way towards the interior of the house.
England, struggling with all his might not to blush, gladly cooperated for the sake of a distraction.
America closed the door behind them and switched into tour-guide mode, giving him the grand tour of the house.
With all of the grandeour and splendor of the outside gardens and house appearance, Arthur almost expected for the inside of the house to be equally well-kept... But, then again, it was Alfred that they were talking about.
After the long and tedious tour of one cluttered room after another, Arthur thought he might collapse in relief as they arrived in the last room.
"-and this will be your bedroom!" Alfred finished cheerfully, "Or you could stay in the "Blue Room" if you want, but no old guy ever actually died in there." he finished with a grin. Only America was the kind of person who usually smiled no matter what, even at the death of his country's past president.
"No, no, this room's fine." he assured earnestly. He thought he wouldn't make it if he walked even another step.
"Great!" America grinned in a pleased way, "The nearest bathroom is just down the hall, and my bedroom is just a door down if you need me! I'll leave you to settle in!" And he disappeared down the hall before England could even stop him.
There was some sense of comfort in the fact that the other country would be right next door, and as he lie down on the bed and closed his eyes to rest a bit he unintentionally drifted off into sleep.
***
England's dreams consisted of the usual: fairy tales, magical creatures, and happy endings.
There was only one main difference in his dream - this time there was a knight.
For the longest time in his dream, the knight's face seemed oddly obscured. There was always something in the way, such as a branch of a tree, or the shadow over his face caused by his helmet, which was topped with a whispy fluff of a feather.
Just as he was beginning to get aggravated, he finally managed to get close enough to the knight to really look up into his face. His eyes widened as he was picked up into the strong arms of the knight and realized that he was looking straight into the face of America.
***
Arthur jolted awake and sat on the bed, his legs crossed and cheeks red from the cold sweat he'd broken into in his sleep.
He awkwardly fumbled his hand along the nightstand beside the bed until he found the lamp-switch.
The light flickered on, spreading a warmth over the walls of the green-walled room.
Arthur sat there and panted a bit, then realized that part of the reason he'd begun sweating was due to the warm covers which were tucked tightly around his body.
'I don't remember going under the covers before I fell asleep..' he thought perplexedly. Then, he thought of the only people in the entire house - he and his next-door roommate.
The only conclusion he could come to was that Alfred had slipped in and tucked the covers around him during the time he was asleep.
Arthur rubbed his eyes and brushed the sleeve of his green army outfit along his forehead to remove the sweat. He wondered, idly, what time it was and located the alarm clock next to the lamp.
7:00 a.m.
He'd fallen asleep at around 3:00 p.m. yesterday after the hour-long house tour, so he'd slept sixteen entire hours. The jetlag of trans-country travel had finally caught up with him last night, he figured.
Fully-rested and too antsy to remain in the room, Arthur threw his legs over the side of the bed and got up, swaying slightly from the drunkeness of too much sleep.
His door had been left open, so he walked right out it. America's room's door was closed, so Arthur headed downstairs, able to maneuver normally in a large house like this because of his own.
Half-way down the stairs, a clanging sound caught him off-guard and England almost jumped out of his skin.
'Bloody hell... what was that? A burglar?!' he thought, freezing cautiously in his steps. When his head wasn't blown off, he cautiously continued down the stairs and peeked around the nearest corner where the sound had come from.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Not a burglar. America trying to cook.
At the sound of his sigh, the blonde at the stove turned around to face him in slight surprise.
"Hey, England!" he greeted, "How did you sleep?" he paused, "What are you doing? Spying on me again?~"
England straightened, a look of embarrassed denial on his face.
"Again?! What do you mean by that?! You bloody pervert!" he yelled back.
'Damn, that must've been what it looked like...' he thought.
"If I'm the pervert, then why are you blushing so hard?" Alfred teased, while stirring something in a large, white mixing bowl.
"Sh-shut up!" Arthur stammered, pacing over to the taller man and snatching the bowl from him, "What is this?" he demanded, trying to change the subject.
Alfred undid his apron and hung it over the back of a chair.
"Well, I was making mix for French Toast..." he murmured.
"Ugh, why would you want to eat something that originated in him?" Arthur said disdainfully as he set the bowl down.
"Well, I wasn't really making it because of that, but..." he started, "Wait! I have an idea!" he blurted suddenly, slapping his fist into his palm in excitement, "You can cook something, Iggy! Just like the good ol' days!"
"Me...?"
"Yeah! I used to love your cooking when I was little!... I think..."
Arthur made a crooked smile as Alfred added on his 'I think...' at the end. The kid had never had a good taste for food (which was also the reason he ate so much fast food, he figured), but if he wanted him to cook, he would cook.
"Alright, then. I'll make scones," Arthur decided, fetching the apron Alfred had been wearing and pouring the French Toast mix down the sink.
A few sounds from the fire alarm and a burnt bowl of scones later, the two men sat down to evaluate their results.
"Well, we did it..." America said in a forced happy voice.
"Yeah..." England muttered unenthusiasticly.
"Well," Alfred tied a napkin around his neck and plopped a thouroughly-blackened scone on his plate, "Bon Appetit'..."
"Alright..." Arthur said, mimicking the other. And, together, they both bit in to the singed pastries with loud crunches.
"It's...", 'Completely disgusting!' ," D-delicious!" Alfred bluffed, trying to chew the abomination in his mouth as best as possible without letting it touch his tongue.
Arthur's eyes lit up as he swallowed his own bite, unphased.
"You really think so?!" he asked, his face radiant.
Alfred half-way wanted to tell Arthur the truth so he wouldn't have to eat anymore of his blood-curdling confections, but the expression on his older brother's face was so adorable, he couldn't stand to break it to him.
'I guess this is what you call "taking one for the team"...'
Still, it was sorta nice to have someone else besides him in the large house, whether they were a bad cook or not. And, as he looked over at his overjoyed brother, he thought he could live with it.
A/N: Well, how did you guys like it? I was laughing at some parts as I wrote it, so I hope you guys think it's as funny as I do! Stay tuned for the mishaps of upcoming Chapter Five!