A/N: Alright, so this is called "Chapter 4 1/2" because it's not really technically big enough to consider a full chapter. Plus, it wouldn't fit into the next section without making it really long, and that would be weird having a gigantic chapter all of a sudden! However, I'm proud to announce that this now marks a new level for me as a fanfiction writer! The farthest I've ever gotten is to Chapter 4. So, if you guys keep giving me enough encouragement, I'll make sure to keep turning out the story! If not, then I won't feel motivated to write anymore, so keep up your wonderful comments!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters!

Setting: America's House, Bowling Alley

"Yeah! I got a spare again!"

England sighed, his fist was slowly sinking into his cheek and his head nodded to one side.

"How many has that been, now?" he called to America, whom was picking a bowling ball out of the bowling ball return.

It wasn't that he gave a care about the American pastime in itself, it was the one playing it that mattered to him, so he was doing his best to seem interested.

"I dunno, maybe the twenty-fourth?" America guessed as he lifted up a ball with an American flag printed on it.

"Is that good?" England asked, his hand had now sunken so far into his cheek that it turned his talking into a mumble.

"Yeah," he replied, swinging his arm back and gliding a graceful step forward before he released the ball onto the glossy wood of the bowling lane.

This time, there was apparently a slight spin on his throw, because instead of knocking down all of the pins, two remained - directly on opposite sides of the lane and in the same row.

America turned back to England with a searching expression that unnerved him a bit. Despite Alfred's acting, he was actually quite perceptive.

"Hey, Iggy, why don't you come play with me? I'm getting kinda tired of playing by myself," he offered, but it didn't seem as if he was expecting Arthur to accept, Arthur could tell that much by his tone of voice.

"That's alright, I'm fine. You're really good at this," Arthur replied, averting his eyes purposefully from his companion's.

Alfred frowned and ignored his ball when it was returned to the bin. Instead, he made his way over to England and bent down a little to rest his elbows on the counter of the bowling bar.

"You're not having fun, are you?" he asked, his voice seeming more worried than dejected.

This startled Arthur's brain back into the present from its previous bored, sleepy state.

"What? No, of course I'm having fun!" Arthur lied smoothly.

Alfred's eyes were burning holes through him - giving off an icy-hot feeling.

Dammit, he wasn't buying it.

"I mean, it's great! I really like watching you play... ah..."

"Bowling," Alfred offered, frowning.

Meanwhile, Arthur was cursing at himself in his head.

'Bloody idiot! That didn't sound convincing at all!'

"-anyways, it's getting late." Alfred's voice interrupted, followed by the sound of his bowling ball being replaced in a long line of balls.

Arthur glanced up at the neon wall-clock.

The hour hand rested a little past the "11" marker and the minute hand creeped steadily towards the "6"; it was a race of the tortise and the hare.

"Alright. I guess I'll head off to bed..." he grumbled, grabbing his discarded green army jacket and swinging it over his shoulder.

"I'll be right behind you." Alfred murmured thoughtfully, plopping back down into one of the many swiveling bowling chairs.

Arthur looked back at him for a minute, watching him slump over into the "Thinker" pose, then turned again and headed to the elevator that would take him to the second level where his room was, a small smile on his face.

Whatever he was up to, it would have to wait until morning.

***

He had the dream again; the dream in which Alfred, his brave knight, scooped him up into his sturdy arms and cradled him dearly.

But, wait! Instead of being woken up, this time the dream continued!

His conscious mind was studying the dream greedily, yearning for the dream to happen faster so that it'd end before he woke up.

The dream versions of himself and Alfred were leaning in, now. They were so close that their very breath was causing each other's bangs to rustle gently against their foreheads. Eyes closed, the two tilted their heads to the side and their lips parted. Just a few more inches and their lips would-

"Iggy... Iggy... Iggy..." a voice said pesteringly.

No. Nononononono! "You've got to be kidding me!" he wanted to scream as his brain kicked into gear- woken up.

"Iggy?" the voice asked again, "Iggy, are you awake?"

Arthur moaned and rolled over. "I am, now." Grumbled and slurred groggily. He rubbed his eyelids. "What do you want?"

"I couldn't sleep..." A pause, "Do you think I could sleep with you?"

"Sure, whatever..." England said without thinking.

Burying his face back into his pillow, he was almost to sleep again when the springs in the mattress squeaked. His brain snapped to attention. Someone had gotten into bed with him.

Slowly, he dragged the pillow off of his face and turned his head to the side.

"Hi!~"

"Aaah!" Arthur yelped, thrusting his pillow into the bed-invader's face.

"Bed-Invader" began flailing and blabbering words into the pillow that were impossible to make out.

The voice, however, was.

Arthur relented in his pillow-smothering and threw the puffy "weapon" to the side where it slammed, harmlessly, into the wall.

Just as he had thought. It was none other than the country of the stars and stripes. Up close, personal, and wide-eyed.

"I-Iggy!" the startled nation spluttered, "Why'd you try to strangle me?!"

"What else was I gonna do?! Someone comes in during the middle of the night and gets into my bed and I'm supposed to welcome them?!"

The younger country made a pouty face.

"But, you said that I could-"

"I don't care what I said, you twat! Get out of my room!" Arthur hissed as he pushed Alfred off and towards the door.

Alfred whirled around to face Arthur, palm pressed to the wooden door desperately in an attempt to keep the door open against his older sibling's force.

"But, Iggy, I had a night-"

England used his last bit of strength against the door.

SLAM!

"-mare..."

America stared at the shut door for a minute then, dejectedly, returned to his room.

As he crawled back into his bed he wondered, idly, whether his brother hated him just like he let on.

But, the past day that the Britt had spent with him... he'd really felt as if their relationship was becoming a little less rocky. But had it just been all in his mind? It almost seemed as if Arthur was closing himself up again, like he was purposefully putting a barrier up between them.

Pulling the covers up to his chin, he kept thinking about that notion, mulling it over in his head.

But he couldn't go to sleep, the nightmares made sure of that...

The springs of the mattress protested loudly as England pulled himself back into the bed. He was sure it was squeaking at him; reprimanding him for what he had done.

Nightmares? Those were what little kids had- mere children. A grown man shouldn't be having them. Alfred would just have to toughen up and get through it on his own! At least, this is what he was trying, stubbornly, to convince himself...

It wasn't working.

'It'll be better when he goes back to sleep. He's not a little kid anymore...' he repeated to himself in his mind again.

He closed his green eyes, dark in the dim lighting of only the alarm clock.

Arthur turned on his left side, then his right, back, belly, he even tried hanging his head over the side of the bed, his body horizontal, but nothing would work.

"Confound it, Alfred!" England finally yelled through gritted teeth as he punched his poor pillow.

Huffily, the Englishman slid out of bed and marched toward the American's room. He burst into the room without knocking and his eyes caught Alfred's face, almost submerged under the covers, but wide awake.

"Get up; you're coming with me." Arthur ordered, grabbing a pair of wrinkled, brown pants off of Alfred's completely buried bedroom floor and throwing them at him.

Alfred sat up and caught the pants in his arms, then his eyes- impossibly blue- flickered up to Arthur's face, curious, with his mouth slightly open.

"Don't gawk! Haven't I taught you any manners?!" Arthur retorted at his expression. He knew he was blushing again, now, as his face got hot, but he also knew that America was dumb enough that he would probably just take it for a flush of anger instead of nerves.

"You really want me to come with you...?" Alfred asked softly, so soft that England could've sworn in that short instant he'd become a child again.

Arthur snorted. "Why else would I bother coming into a train-wreck of a room like this?" he answered in reply, trying to sound angry and, as far as he could tell, he was succeeding.

The younger boy blinked a few times in response, then clambered out of bed and began towards his brother.

"Wait a minute and put on your pants, first!" Arthur snapped a little too quickly, pointing at the article of forgotten clothing on his bed.

Alfred honestly had no idea why Arthur would request something as silly as that, but obediently went back and retrieved the pants.

"Now, put them on. I'm tired of waiting on you. I'll be in my room."

Alfred nodded his head in acknowledgement as Arthur's back disappeared out the door, then followed after him only after he'd pulled his pants on over his American flag boxers.

It was dark and silent when he arrived in the room next door. Alfred assumed, by the quietness and the vague shape of a human figure under the bed covers, that England had fallen asleep.

Soundlessly, he tiptoed over to the unoccupied side of the bed- the right if you were facing it from the front- and paused before he was about to climb into the covers.

He wondered if this was really alright; if he hadn't just imagined, from his desires, that Arthur had invited him to sleep with him.

A gruff, irritable voice from the figure under the covers made him jump a little.

"For Christ's sake! Just get in the damn bed, Alfred! I said it was alright!" England flopped over, opening one tired eye to look at him with a frown (and a slight blush) on his face, "Are you coming in, or not?" The country was trying to sound as harsh as possible, but his voice kept cracking and swapping over to the voice he used to use on the younger America so long ago.

"Yeah..." Alfred murmured, consenting to his brother's will and sinking into the warm covers as if they were a jacuzzi.

Arthur shifted away a little to give him room, despite his ridiculously overwhelming urge to inch closer.

He didn't have to inch closer; America did that all by himself.

The straw-blond country's hair brushed gently, like stranded silk, against the bare skin of his chest as his companion settled himself in and twisted diagonally, his feet in the far left corner and his head putting a light weight against the rise-and-fall of his breathing.

"A-Alfred? What are you doing?!" Arthur said as he struggled to control his breathing.

"What?" Alfred asked innocently, as he cracked open his baby blues again to look up, "And, hey, why's your heartbeat so fast all of a sudden?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?! I'm not a pillow!"

'It feels so nice... But I can't let him know!'

"But, my pillow is all the way in the other room!"

'That's alright, I'll let you use my chest, then. Wait, what am I thinking?! AGH!'

"Go get your own pillow! You're fat, anyways!"

'You're just fine the way you are, though, really...'

"I've been trying to lay off of the fries, I swear!"

"SHUT UP!"

Alfred went silent and lifted his head from Arthur's chest. His worried face came back again.

'Dammit, how does he do that?!'

But instead of saying something else like England expected, America just turned over and laid his head on the sheets.

It was too quiet now and the silence- complete, utter silence- made his spine tingle.

Then, came his voice.

"...Iggy... are you mad at me?"

' "Are you mad at me?" '

It sounded so juvenile; a question asked by someone as old as a twelve year-old, no less. But Arthur found himself answering in a brotherly, forgiving voice where he'd usually use a cynical one. Maybe he was just going soft...

"No... I'm just... I have a lot on my mind... It's not your fault."

'It really is halfway your fault, though...'

"Oh, okay..." he was quiet for a few seconds, "Iggy...?"

"Hm...?"

"Can I... can I tell you about my nightmare?"

Arthur shifted up so that he could prop his weight on one elbow.

"Was it the one about the ghosts, again?"

Alfred's eyes darted down to the covers for a minute in shame.

"Yeah..."

A thin smile spread accrost Arthur's face and he patted his chest with his palm.

"Tell me about it, sport."

"Alright!" Alfred said, his voice picking up cheerily as he droned off into his scary ghost dream.

Allowing a full-grown man to sleep with him? Listening to bad dreams?

Yup. He was definately going soft.

A/N: Well, that was the end to this little segment! The next chapter'll have many more of the countries in it, so stay tuned! Thanks for your support!