Author's Note: Hey, everyone! After some delay, Chapter 5 is finally out! Hooray! I'm especially proud of this chapter, because I finally got to the meat of the story! Be prepared for a lot of drama in this one! Oh, and I also added in Matthew as requested! Sorry for his part being such a little part, though... Anywho, disclaimer time!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters (although I may wish I did XD).

Alright! Let's get this story started!

Setting: America's House

Time: 7:30 A.M.

He woke up to laughter.

It was 7:30 in the morning, and the laughter was trailing up to his room in peals.

What the heck was wrong with them?! Didn't they have better things to do than annoy him?

Thinking about this, he shook his head.

Apparently not.

England sat up and attempted at taming his short hair out of its bed-head state by running his fingers through it. Not succeeding at that, his gaze wandered over to where America had been the night before.

The sheets were crumpled down and the corner of the comforter drooped messily over onto the floor.

No Alfred there.

Arthur grumbled and slid out of the bed himself, then walked out the door and padded down the stairs in a daze.

Six heads turned as he came down and the room suddenly fell silent.

"Heya, Iggy!~" Alfred trilled after a few awkward moments of silence. Sitting in a group around him were France, China, Russia, Italy (for God knows what reason), and someone else, he thought, but maybe, in his sleepy stupor, he was just imagining things.

"..." England turned slowly on his heel, his intent to go back to his room as soon as possible, but a voice interrupted him.

"Aw, Arthur looks so adorable in his undies, oui?"

Arthur was down the stairs and attempting to choke France in a second, blushing furiously.

"France, you bastard!"

France immediately began to fight back and started pushing England's face away with his palm.

"You're the one who chose to come down in your underwear; don't yell at me for your stupidity!"

Arthur jerked at a lock of Francis's curly, blond hair.

"You're such a perv, you pervy baka!"

"Stop it, aru!" Someone pleaded as a new voice entered into the fight, "We don't need anyone to get hurt!"

"I'll be fine as long as I can rip this idiot's mouth off of his face!"

"You're just jealous of my looks!"

The new voice sighed. "Aiyah... Well, I didn't want to do this, aru... but..."

Suddenly, something hard and metal slammed into both France and England's heads.

"Ow, hey!" They both yelped in unison.

Their attacker, China, put on a worried look on his face that looked rather motherly and lowered the wok in his hand.

"I'm sorry. But it was the only thing that could snap the two of you out of it, aru..."

Arthur growled and rolled his eyes as he straightened up.

"Whatever... I'm going to put some pants on." he mumbled, leaving the room and trudging up the stairs to his room.

'That doof... he could've at least warned me he'd invited company over...' Arthur thought irritably as he pulled a pair of his green army pants on.

Of course, America was America, though. He should've expected as much for him to do something like that.

The thought of America yesterday when he'd said he wasn't going to bed yet after the game of bowling popped into Arthur's head.

Was a bunch of people seeing him in his undergarments supposed to cheer him up?

Probably.

Did it?

No.

Rather the opposite. But, it was sweet of him to try.

"Hey, Iggy?" Alfred's voice entered into the silent room.

"Hm?" Arthur murmured as he set hastily to buttoning up his pants button and tugged on his matching army coat and tie.

"Are you okay? You've been up here for a while..."

Arthur closed his eyes to try to aid in containing his anger.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I simply adored the rude awakening..." he snarled through clenched teeth.''

Alfred's lower lip jutted out a little, and this simple action made him want to take Alfred into his arms and tell him it was okay and that he wasn't really mad, after all. But, he reminded himself that he had every reason to be frustrated with him and there were about five people downstairs - one of them he really didn't want to even see (*cough* France *cough* XD).

"I'm sorry, Iggy..." I thought you would like it if-"

"Like it?! If you were trying to "cheer me up" as you said, then you wouldn't have invited that idiot, France! And those other people! I don't want to see them, either! As a matter of fact, I didn't want to be here in the first place! All I wanted was to get my damn tea and bring it back home!" he finished in a huff, his face red from yelling.

Alfred looked dumbfounded, startled, and a little hurt. A wave of regret tried to wash over him, but Arthur fought it away before it dragged him under and, instead, honed in on his own frusteration.

"Iggy...I'm sorry...I-" America began again. Somehow, he'd managed to tap into his little kid's look again.

"No. It's fine. I'm leaving." Arthur spat out on a split-second decision as he spun around and stormed down the stairs towards the front door. America followed him earnestly.

The eyes of those gathered in the living room followed them as they went by.

"But, where will you go?" Alfred called after him as he reached the front doors to the house.

Arthur froze, his hand on the laminated wood of the door, his eyes staring at it.

Finally, under his breath, he replied: "Back home, or maybe to China. Anywhere but in this bugger of a country!" And with that, he retreated outside, the door slamming in front of America's face.

America stared, as if in a trance, at the door and then walked back to join the others in the living room.

No one dared to say anything as America slumped down into a recliner chair like a zombie, except for the person sitting over in a far corner.

"No one noticed me..." he mumbled as he hugged a small, white bear to his body. The bear turned to look up at him.

"Who're you?"

Somewhere in America (near Alfred's house)

12:00 Noon

Moody Joe's Bar and Grill

England slammed his glass down on the bar counter so that it slopped its fizzing contents over the rim.

"Hit me again." he croaked, laying his forehead back on the counter on the top of his folded arms.

"Another round?" the bartender, a heavily-tattooed man of 30, asked in his bass voice as he wiped his hands on the rag that was on the counter and took the glass back again.

"What do you think?" Arthur grumbled miserably under his breath as he hiccuped and glared up at him.

The bartender shrugged it off after frowning for a second and turned around to prepare the drink.

Meanwhile, Arthur was busy thinking about how in hell he was going to pay for the bill when he'd left his wallet at Alfred's house.

That bluff he'd made to Alfred about going back to Britain? Totally unrealistic considering the amount of money he'd blown in the states. It would take a miracle for him to get enough money to fly back again, yet alone buy any tea, which he was seriously deprived of since all America'd had in his home was coffee.

What did it matter? His head was beginning to throb and make it impossible to think, anyways. He would get home somehow. Yes, he'd find a way, and heck! He'd do it right now!

Pushing his chair back, Arthur slid down off of it onto his feet and began wobbling in his drunken, unsteady pace to the door.

Alerted by the screeching sound that Arthur's chair had made, the bartender turned back around and called over the counter at him.

"Hey, you have to pay before you leave!" he yelled, as he ducked his head under the elevated shelving of the bar.

"Pay for this." Arthur called over his shoulder at him as he flicked a bird at the bartender with a drunken smile on his face.

"Why, you little...!" the bartender hissed back as he threw down his apron that had been around his waist and made his way around the counter towards Arthur.

The bells on the door handle rang to signal that a new customer had come in, and Arthur bumped straight into the chest of a familiar blond male.

"Iggyyy!~" Alfred sang happily, a relieved look upon his face. Arthur looked up at him dopily.

"You!" he hiccuped and swallowed before he was able to talk again, "You... got me into this!"

Alfred grinned hopelessly and quirked an eyebrow at his big brother. He thought England was so cute drunk, yet so weird.

"What are you talking about, Iggy? You're making no sense."

"I'm talking about you, Baka-America! Baka! Baka! Baka! Ba-!"

The bartender, having reached England, grabbed the Britt by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back from America.

"Look, punk. Either you pay, or I beat you to a pulp!"

"How about you go fuck a pig? You sure look like one!" Arthur slurred.

"You little brat!" the bartender roared as he jerked Arthur's collar backwards so that it was choking him, "Pay up!"

"Hey." Alfred interrupted, stepping forward and clasping his hand around the bartender's wrist, "What's your problem?"

The bartender leered at Alfred instead, but didn't release his grip on Arthur's collar.

"My problem is this little deliquent! He won't pay up! Is he a friend of yours?"

"Yeah, he is."

"Well, then. I bet you wouldn't want to see him get hurt, so you better talk some sense into him!"

"Why don't I just pay for him?"

The bartender seemed to ponder over this for a minute, then replied with a flat, "No."

"Why not?"

"Because this kid needs to learn some manners! Would be good for a bastard like him!" he jerked back even rougher on Arthur's collar, causing Arthur's face to pale considerably.

By this point in time, Alfred was shaking from anger. He didn't usually get mad, but seeing someone so deliberately hurting his brother right in front of him was pushing him right over the edge.

"You know, what? I think you need some manners!" Alfred spat as he pulled his arm back and then swung his fist forward again.

His punch collided with the man's face and, almost instantly, a stream of amber began pouring from his nose, the man crying out in pain. The bartender let go of Arthur to clutch his nose with a hand and shot a punch at Alfred's face. The punch successfully hit Alfred, knocking his glasses askew but, thankfully, not breaking them. His eye itself took most of the damage.

Arthur was ready to launch another punch, but the bartender was forced to retreat due to the amount of bloodflow from his injury.

Having been released, Arthur fell forward onto Alfred's chest, gasping softly for air, his face whiter than before and his eyes bloodshot from the combination of stress, lack of sleep, and too much alcohol.

"You're both mad! That's it! I'm calling the cops!" the bartender threatened as he disappeared into the hallway that supposedly lead towards the kitchen.

Alfred watched to make sure the bartender was gone before he looked down at Arthur.

"Iggy, are you alright?"

Arthur didn't answer, but kept his face buried in his chest.

"Iggy... you're worrying me... say something."

Slowly, Arthur raised his face up and looked up at his brother.

"You really are a baka." he breathed.

Alfred, whom looked as if he might be developing a black eye at this point, managed to chuckle a bit before Arthur pulled at his shirt weakly.

"Hm? What is-?" But before he could finish his question, Arthur's lips were pressed against his hard.

Alfred's eyes widened in surprise initially, but he soon went with it and pressed back, tasting the alcohol fresh on Arthur's lips, but not caring. He wrapped his arms firmly around his brother's waist and pulled him closer.

Arthur reached up and began to entangle his fingertips within Alfred's hair, pushing himself as close to him as possible.

When they finally broke apart, they were both sucking in air, but Arthur even more so. Who knew that he even knew how to kiss, as stuffy as his personality usually was.

"That was... that was good!" Alfred heaved in between breaths, a bright grin lighting up on his face, making it shine like a lightbulb.

"..."

"Iggy?"

No response except for Arthur's labored breathing.

"What's going on? You-you look pale..."

As if the very mention of him looking sickly had caused his body to give out, Arthur's knees buckled and he started falling to the side.

"Ah! I-I got'cha!" Alfred's voice cracked as he caught him just in time before he hit the ground.

Squatting down, Alfred laid Arthur's head on his thigh and placed the back of his palm on his sweaty forehead. He felt the wave of heat coming off of England's skin and looked around in a panic.

Seeming to make up his mind, then, he pulled Arthur up enough so that he could drape his arm around his shoulder and pull him out towards his car.

"C'mon, Iggy. I'm taking you to the hospital!"

Somewhere in America (nearby)

8:00 P.M.

East Mountain Hospital

Arthur felt as if he'd woken up in some sort of alien world.

To the left, a strange machine linked to a couple of tubes. To the right, a small T.V. set pushed to the side and two visitor's chairs, one occupied by a dozing Alfred.

Arthur opened his mouth to talk, but all he recieved was a rush of air that almost choked him and took him by surprise.

'What the-?'

Looking down, he realized that there was an oxygen mask over his mouth. Grunting, he gripped it and pulled it off over his face, taking a gasp of fresh air.

After a closer inspection of his damages, he noticed that the odd machine was feeding a clear liquid to an IV in his arm, and there was a deep, red line where his collar, now open, had strangled him.

"What happened...?" Arthur mumbled gruffly as he rubbed the line on his neck.

Sitting there, his memories suddenly came back to him, but a bit blearily. He remembered being mad at Alfred, going to the bar and drinking *so that's why he had a killer headache...*, being strangled by that crazy bartender that belonged in an asylum or, at the least, an anger program, and... the kiss.

Arthur couldn't help but to heat up at the memory, and the other machine in the room reacted; peaking to high levels that showed his heart rate. God, he'd been more drunk than he'd thought...

It was 8:00 P.M. ... he was going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow.

A knock on the closed door sent a jolt through his body and he fumbled to put on his oxygen mask, then fell back onto the bed, pulling the sheets over himself.

A split-second later, a nurse came in carrying a clipboard. Arthur watched her through a slight crack in his eyelids.

She wore a pristine, white uniform with the stereotypical red cross marking on her shirt pocket and hat. Her hair was in a tight bun, and a stethescope hung limply around her neck.

Smoothly, she glided through the room like a ghost, and checked a reading on what was probably the oxygen machine. Apparently, she approved of the machine's reading, because she nodded her head and walked again to the side the guest chairs were on.

"Excuse me." her pixie-like voice (which was rather obnoxious) broke the silence. She tapped lightly on Alfred's shoulder, and his head lolled up drowsily, his eyes half-opening and blinking from the light.

"Sorry, but it's 8:00. Visitor hours are over, now."

"Ah... Alright, I'll go, then..." Alfred mumbled almost inaudibly.

"Wait!" Arthur blurted, fluttering his eyes open and sitting up really fast. Due to the mask, his voice reminded himself of a character called "Darth-... something" in one of those films Alfred had forced him to watch.

The nurse paled as if she'd just seen a ghost, obviously startled at his sudden outburst (although Arthur didn't understand that figure of speech sicne he didn't find ghosts scary at all...). "Um, yes? What is it?" the nurse asked, regaining her composure a little.

"Iggy! You're awake!" Alfred cheered, looking as if he was yearning to pounce upon him and hug him to death.

"I want him to stay." Arthur said firmly, with authority.

The nurse gave a nervous smile. Clearly, she didn't get out much. "I'm sorry, sir, but it may not be good for your condition..."

Arthur closed his eyes, his brow wrinkling in irritation. "Look, I don't care about my bloody condition. If you don't let him stay, I'll get worse." He reached over to his hand with the IV and acted as if he was getting ready to undo the bandaging and pull it out.

"No, don't!" the nurse panicked.

Arthur cracked open his right eye and looked at her, a smug smirk on his face. "What is it?" he asked nonchalantly.

The nurse's voice dropped to a low whisper. "Fine. He can stay. But I'm not responsible if someone comes in and notices."

"That's fine," Arthur agreed, " You can go, now." he said, waving her away with his hand.

The nurse scowled a bit, but backed up and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"... Thanks, Iggy." Alfred thanked warmly, grabbing one of the plastic chairs and sliding it to Arthur's bedside.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Uh, yeah. Don't mention it... Really. Don't."

Alfred broke into a wider grin and let out a chuckle. "Yeah, yeah, Iggy. Whatever," He then looked around, drumming his fingers on his kneecaps, "Hey, what can we do around here?"

Arthur put on a dull face. "Besides sleep?"

"Psh! Sleep's for bums!"

"Says the guy who slept all day."

"Hey, you were out, too!"

Arthur huffed, displeased with not having a comeback for this. "Fine. We can do something... But what is there to do in a hospital room, besides read bad magazines about dieting...?"

"Well...," Alfred muttered, a light blush to his cheeks, "I liked what we did earlier..."

Arthur's skin prickled. He knew what Alfred was mentioning.

"You mean... you want to...-"

Alfred nodded sheepishly.

"Uh, um..." Arthur didn't know what to say, but he somehow couldn't turn him down, "I guess... that'd be... alright..." He was blushing so hard, it was a wonder his face didn't fall off.

For a second, neither of them moved. Then, Alfred seemed to snap to attention.

"Ah. I guess I'll have to come up there since you're, uh..." he pointed to the IV.

"Yeah..."

"Alright..." Alfred got up and kicked the chair back a little with his foot, then he put his knee up on the bed and pulled himself up.

Being the only comfortable position, he found himself over Arthur, his knees on either side of his chest and his hands pinning Arthur on either side of his head. "Hang on." Alfred whispered, gently tugging at the oxygen mask to remove it.

This time, Alfred made the first move - leaning in and molding his lips to Arthur's. This caused their bodies to glue together; the only thing seperating them was their clothes.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, Arthur gave into his desire. His fingers worked nimbly at popping the buttons free from their holes on Alfred's shirt.

Alfred mimicked him, undoing Arthur's shirt as well. But, his next move was to unzip Arthur's pants.

Momentarily, Arthur struggled. "Hey, A-america! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!"

Alfred paused at his task and looked up at Arthur quizzically. "You don't want to?"

Damn.

"... Well, I wouldn't protest against it..." England whispered, turning his blushing face to the side.

Alfred smiled lovingly at his brother and reached forward to carress Arthur's face in his hands, also forcing him to look at his face.

"I love you."

"... I love you, too."

Author's Note: AND THUS, England and America became one! XDDD Yeah... as this is rated PG-13, I'm stopping THAT little detail right there. Anyways, review, review, review! See everyone next chapter!