Chapter 5
Sorry for the delay!

((A/n: I do not own any Hetalia characters; they belong to Hidekaz, Himaruya.))

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All three teens were inside the large estate with the unconscious Russian on the couch. Alfred sighed unhappily as he messaged his temples, who would have known Matt would come home early?

"Alfred..." Matthieu growled out.

The said glanced at his twin before walking into the kitchen.

"Look Mattie, I- I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Alfred said. He really didn't want to tell the back story to that.

Arthur just silently slouched against the kitchen wall, watching to two blondes silently argue with each other. He turned his eyes on the Russian on the couch and studied the man; pale blond hair, bulky body and strong nose. 'He looks like Daemon but is he that boy?' Arthur thought. Matthieu glared at his brother, not knowing how to react to what he just seen a few minutes ago. Alfred, on the other hand was silently praying that his brother and Arthur, mind you, didn't find out what went on between him and Ivan two years ago.

"Um...so Artie what are ya doing here?" Alfred said.

Arthur's eyes landed on the American, he raised an eyebrow but remained quiet.

The tall blonde shifted uncomfortably as he was glared at by his twin and by his handsome crush. Alfred had looked at his bow of pancake mix as though it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen and needed to be studied in minute detail. He slowly started to make pancakes, ignoring the fact that people wanted answers that he was unwilling to give.

They heard a groan and all heads turned towards the couch. The Russian rubbed the back of his head and looked around before glaring at the taller American in the kitchen.

"Alfred..." Ivan hissed.

"Hn...Vanya..." Alfred snickered; the Russian growled while the American chuckled. The other two blondes in the room watched how the twosome interacted; it was stunning to see Alfred acting so calm and collected. Or if you happened to be Arthur Kirkland, hot. After calling each other unspeakable names in English and Russian, Ivan got off the couch and lunged for Alfred with his pipe.

As soon as they hit the ground, Alfred yelled, "Who the hell gave him the pipe?"

Automatically the other two, went and grabbed the fighting teens, pulling them away from each other. Arthur held on tightly to Alfred by his waist while Matthieu did the same with Ivan. The ones being held glared hotly at each other.

"Would someone tell me what the bloody hell in going on here?" Arthur yelled, burying his face in Alfred's shirt. The tall American stopped at struggle and sighed; turning around to envelop the Brit into a hug. Arthur blushed furiously but held Alfred all the tighter, loving the warmth of him.

"Sorry Artie but-" he turned his head back around, "That douche can't be here when I explain what happened between us," the American whispered, the Brit nodded but didn't let go of the taller teen's shirt.

Alfred stood firm and tall as he glared back at Ivan. The Russian's anger and frustration created a palpable aura that darkened the air around him around him as he was practically pushed towards the door. Arthur's eyes narrowed, the only people who could do that was the Braginski clan, the small demon scoffed.

"Oh, bloody fucking great."

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Not to far from the estate, Rodrich and Elizibeta were walking back to their house, holding bags of groceries. The Hungarian smiled at her husband as he tried to walk with the bags, only to almost trip, crashing into her.

"Honey," she said sweetly and kissed his cheek, the Austrian smiled and they continued to the house. The twosome walked in silence until the loud crashes and bangs noises grew louder. Louder still as they got near their home. Elizibeta swore and ran the rest of the way to the house leaving a slow, unfortunate, Austrian husband behind.

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Another, unofficial, Russo-American war appeared to have broken out between Alfred and Ivan, both throwing punches, head-butts, kicks, and choke-slams. Arthur winced every time Alfred got punched but he couldn't stop the two even if he wanted. He even ordered Ivan to stop all the nonsense but Braginski disobeyed his prince, which royally pissed the Brit off. Matthieu, on the other hand, was scared for his brother's life, scared as crap, he stood by Arthur: glaring as he did so.
"This is so your fucking fault..." the longer-haired brother spat at Arthur, the devil just sneered and hissed at the spiritual being.

Meanwhile, Alfred threw a right fist, smacking Ivan straight in his face. The Russian growled and swung his pipe missing the younger's face by centimetres. They then ran straight toward each other with a fist raised high, Arthur's eyes widened. Without warning, the British devil threw himself on the American making them plop on floor as a metal pan came flying threw. All they heard was a bang, a groan and a falling Russian.
"What the Hell..." the words died on his lips when he seen his mother with her favourite pan, he gulped.

"Alfred, Matthieu," her loving words were as cold as ice. "What the Hellhappened to my house?" she yelled.

Both twins grinned sheepishly while the mother glared. Arthur could feel the tense air around him, he considered just taking the knocked out Russian back to the underworld but decide against it; God, was Alfred fucking comfortable. The Brit sighed and buried his head into the taller American's shoulder as Alfred sat up straight, promptly falling asleep, not being able to take any more stress for today. The American put his arms around the Brits waist and let his eyes linger on Arthur before giving his mother the undivided attention he had.

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Alfred pouted as he sat beside his bed. No McDonald's for a whole month? That was just cruel and unusual punishment. Unfortunately it was the one his mother and oddly out-of-breath father ad chosen to dish up for, y'know, the unmitigated carnage of the living room, the pancake batter all over the kitchen – he hadn't quite finished making them. And the fact that one of his friends appeared to have passed out in his arms. His mom had softened at that and out-and-out ordered him to take the sleeping Brit up to his room.

That had been the part of this he was totally okay with. So maybe Matthieu was sitting on his bed sulking because he wasn't allowed to attend any extracurricular French – because he had let Alfred fight. Both brothers had tried to defend Matthieu; it wasn't his fault, he didn't make Alfred fight, he tried to stop it, Alfred wasn't listening. But to no avail, they were both grounded like penguins.

Alfred loved penguins.

He sat there, carding his fingers through Arthur's soft blonde hair, completely ignoring the death-glare that was being levelled at him. So maybe he shouldn't have fought with Ivan – the shoulder that was throbbing from a lucky hit with a lead pipe wholeheartedly agreed with that statement. But he didn't want to deal with the past. He just wanted to let sleeping dogs lie. Was that really so bad. Apparently it was.

"I'm going to go fetch your pancakes," Matt sighed, hopping lightly off the bed and padding downstairs. The younger American nodded, watching him leave. Turning back to face the teen asleep on his bed, Alfred almost yelped in surprise.

His hand was still in Arthur's hair, and the English teenager was staring up at him curiously. The desire to lean down and kiss him was sudden and almost unbearable.

"Alfred?" he asked, voice thick with sleep. The American watched in utter shock as Arthur's pupils dilated, changing from slits – like a cat's – to normal, round human pupils. Shaking it off; it had to be a trick of the light, he smiled down at him.

"Hey there, sleepy head. Feeling better?" The demon prince nodded slowly, rubbing his head against the pillow in a very feline manner.

"Much, thank you. Alfred," one hand reached up, and his expression changed subtly from sleepy to sexy – all it took was a smile – his fingers traced the curves of the American's hand and stroked along the muscles of his strong forearm, "Won't you tell me what happened between you and Ivan?"

Oh, God. The look on his face made this all that much harder. It wasn't quite what he had imagined in the shower; the Arthur in his mind had been sweeter somehow and not nearly so devilishly alluring. In that moment Alfred probably would have sold his soul for just one kiss. But he had to stay focused. Mattie was going to be coming back up those stairs at any minute, and he didn't really want their first proper kiss to be interrupted by pancakes.

So, in an immense show of will-power that many who had seen him eat burgers would not believe he possessed, he didn't lean down, he didn't press their lips together and he didn't kiss Arthur Kirkland. Instead what he did was he tried the same tactics.

The hand in the English demon's hair continued to stroke, and Alfred moved so that he sat on the edge of the bed, close enough to the other's side so that he could feel the warmth of his body through the blankets. A little smile quirked on his lips as Arthur leant into him. Alfred's cheeks were dusted a pale pink.

"Arthur," he murmured, his hand moving to cup the sweet devil's cheek, stroking it with his thumb, "Why don't you tell me what happened between you and Bligh first?"

If I could say one thing, it would be that I love my beta, seriously! Like, Omg, and holy shits! Ruth-La y-you are a fucking awesome! Even more than Prussia! (Don't tell him that XD ) Like, seriously, you...god! I can't explain how awesome you are at the moment!

*frolics off to tell the world how awesome you are*

Also, Happy Valentines day everyone! 3