Well here is part 4, this may be a 5 part story, sorry guys but I didn't want to give it all away so soon. So hang in there! Now then just a few things…

First! Thank you to all of those who are commenting, following and adding this to your favorites. I'm glad you're enjoying my little piece. PiXEL10, PenDev0us thank you for following this piece. SpooNeko, Miss know-all, Dreameroftime, thank you for adding this piece to both your favorites and following. CrazyAnimeChild15 for adding this piece to your favorites. Finally thank you mochiusagi for your review!

Second, there is a borderline lemon at the end of this chapter and coming up in Chapter 5. Consider yourselves warned. Those of you who saw it coming… enjoy!

Laters,
Kuro.

P.s. Francis fans don't worry, he will have a chapter to himself.

Part 4: Piping Hot

Arthur felt frozen, Alfred did feel the same. Internally he was in chaos; part of him was leaping for joy, while the other part was nervous about what would happen if he admitted his love for the American. There seemed to be one thing he knew at that moment, if he released Alfred's shirt he wouldn't confess again. He would laugh it off. At first it seemed like a joke, or at least that was what the Englishman was worried about Alfred seeing it as. Now he knew better, no, he'd always known, those sky blue eyes had always followed him. Yet, what he mistook for admiration and brotherly love was so much more. His fingers clutched Alfred's white cotton tee, it was soft and would wrinkle if he continued to do so. He drew a deep breath and looked up at Alfred before pulling his hand back. "I," he sighed and ran his hand through his hair, "Why don't we have some scones and tea," he finally said. He was honestly feeling like a coward and a ponse at the same time, it was an irritating feeling. Alfred's head dipped; clearly that wasn't what he wanted to hear. "If you're going to reject me, just do it," he spat before turning to walk out the door.

He didn't want him to leave; he couldn't let him, his fingers curled into fists. He had raised Alfred, even if they weren't blood related it was still taboo, well for the frog it wasn't. "Anglettere, if you keep thinking of it like that, then none of us would have relationships. After all, we are all related to one another," he had stated. He drew a shaky breath, he knew what he felt, Francis had suggested that he go off of that, and see where it took him. For once he prayed the frog was right, "You bloody git! Let me at least say whether I'm rejecting you or not!" he boomed. Yelling wasn't the best idea, but Alfred would hear him. He watched the taller of the two freeze in the hallway, and turn to him, "Did you know that the spare key is always in the same place? Under the pot in the garden, near the back door? The very same spot we hid it when you were a child," he began. His face was red, naturally he was embarrassed, they had fought hard and ended that relationship so badly that it caused far too much blood and recourses to be spilt. "You used to constantly forget your house keys, so we hid one together in case you lost it, you could always come home," he stated, he was trembling for once. He hoped that his fear would be mistaken for anger by Alfred.

"Please don't make me wait," he managed to say, "I've been waiting for so long, I can't keep waiting." Sky blue eyes were wide and plump lips parted, speechless, it was the first time Alfred was this quiet. "I thought it was because I raised you, this blasted feeling of mine," he spat and looked away at the floor. His emerald-green eyes closed, and he realized it was time to say those three words. "I have always loved you," he admitted, "first as a little brother, and now a lover." His eyes were locked on the floor, in all honesty he wasn't sure if he could make eye contact, for fear that he would break down. He was already broken, but he wanted to keep what little pride he had in tact. The silence was deafening, the stillness was enough to frighten him, and yet he didn't look up. Finally, Arthur turned on his heel and went to storm into the kitchen. "First you confess and then you bloody go silent! What was I supposed to say?" he roared as he attempted to leave the hallway. "Say it again," Alfred finally said after a moment, "Arthur, please say it again."

Alfred's voice was small and soft, it was as though he were a child again. The Englishman spun around to look at the young American. Emerald green eyes met tender sky blues as Arthur lifted his head. Alfred was smiling happily, he honestly looked at though he was going to burst into tears. "I love you too, Alfred," Arthur said with a small and some what confident smile. Yet what he didn't anticipate was what followed. One of Alfred's large hands wrapped around his wrist, before he even realized it he was falling on the floor into the American's broad chest. It was warm, strong and soothing, part of Arthur began to wonder when the American had grown up this much. They landed with a thump on the wooden floor, oddly he didn't care, he was just happy to have his feelings returned. "The scones, those were always for me weren't they?" Alfred asked, his voice rumbled in his chest, and Arthur could hear his heart beat. He nuzzled into him and responded, "Yes, always for you." He buried his face in Alfred's chest as he felt the familiar fire of a blush come on. "The ones in there?" he asked after a moment.

Arthur sat up and looked at Alfred, "Also for you, would you like one?" he asked after a moment. A smile curved those full lips as the blond smiled, "Do you think they're edible?" he asked teasingly. Arthur got up and huffed before striding into the kitchen, "My cooking isn't that bad," he commented. He heard a deep chuckle behind him, it was actually a rather sensual sound, "Well, I've seen your handy work on more than one occasion," commented Alfred as he leaned against the counter. He shook his head as he pulled out a plate and slowly began to remove the scones from the parchment. They were still warm and rather soft, the same texture as when the frog had shown him. He hummed in approval, as he slipped each of the triangles onto the plate. "I think you'll love these," he said with a smile, he honestly hoped Alfred would. He had put so much work into learning how to make them properly.

The shorter slender Englishman turned on his heel before placing the bright blue plate on the island near Alfred's hands. The American simply looked at the scones and then to Arthur. "Who taught you how to bake?" he asked after a moment. There was a pause, if Arthur admitted to seeing Francis about the scones so he could make them Alfred might flip. Yet, if he left that out he would be in more trouble later. "Francis," responded Arthur after a moment. Alfred paled and looked at Arthur, "You went to see the French Pervert?" asked Alfred in anger. He had a feeling this would happen, all he hoped for was that Alfred would cool off like the scones had before doing something stupid. "Yes, I asked for his help," he admitted, it was better to tell the truth now. He watched the American's face turn red with anger, "You said you loved me!" he roared. Once again Alfred has misinterpreted, he sighed and shook his head before responding, "You always said how terrible my cooking was, I wanted to be able to make at least these for you." He slowly reached up and touched Alfred's face, he always did have an adorable pout, "I meant what I said about loving you," he stated.

This seemed to make Alfred simmer down a little, "You still went to the frog," he muttered as he crossed his arms stubbornly. Arthur chuckled, this was a very familiar thing for the American to do, he always did it when he didn't like something. "Even you have to admit that the Frog is the best chef to learn pastries, our Italian friends are probably preoccupied with their lovers," he commented with a chuckle. He wasn't about to get between the German and his lover that was suicide. He watched Alfred's shoulders drop slightly, "I see," he whispered and looked at the plate of scones. "He only taught you how to make them?" he asked skeptically. Clearly Alfred was still a little annoyed, which irritated the Englishman, even when Francis was involved. The Frenchman was a World Class Flirt, and everyone knew it, Alfred himself had been groped on a few occasions by the man. Which irritated the hell out of Arthur. "Well let's give them a try," commented Alfred as he slowly unfolded his arms and tore a piece off of one of the corners.

A smile of delight swept across Arthur's face, he was willing to try them, he was actually willing to taste them. In the past he simply threw them out, or teased him relentlessly and left them on the tray. Arthur's emerald-green eyes locked on Alfred's lips as they parted and he placed the scone in his mouth. They looked soft and warm, he honestly began to wonder what the scone tasted like off of the American's lips. It probably tasted even better than eating one solo. He shook his head and blushed furiously; he had no idea where that thought came from. Alfred purred as he chewed and smiled, "This is amazing! I may not like the Frog, but he certainly knows his stuff!" exclaimed Alfred. He tore off another piece and looked down at the sandy blond-haired Englishman, "Here you try some," he said happily as he held up the corner. Arthur was confused at first until he noticed Alfred had lined it up with his lips. Those long calloused fingers looked even tastier than the scone did, he wasn't going to deny that, he blushed again and looked up at Alfred nervously. He began to wonder if the American knew what he was thinking, those blue eyes which were seemingly innocent now looked anything but. There was a desire in them, and he smiled, perhaps he would indulge a little. After all, his heart was finally satisfied, and Alfred was consenting.

He opened his mouth and closed his eyes as he felt Alfred place the piece in his mouth. He figured it was time to play with the American a little, he claimed to be a hero, and he wanted to see how he was in bed. After all, heroes' always got the girl, well man in this case. Arthur's tongue slipped between Alfred's fingers and collected the piece from them, the American pulled his hand away and left it hanging there. The scone was light and fluffy, it seemed to melt in his mouth just like the ones Francis had made. He savored the medley of cranberries and oranges as he chewed, it was perfect.

He swallowed slowly, his emerald greens lifted, and he grinned mischievously, without hesitation the Englishman slipped his tongue out of his mouth and licked the tips of Alfred's fingers to get the crumbs he had intentionally left. Emerald green eyes held a spark as they flickered up to Alfred's sky blues. His slightly coarse and wet tongue slipped over the calloused fingers of the American. He could taste the salt from his sweat and sweetness of his skin. In his opinion he tasted better than the scone did. A soft groan left Alfred's throat as the Englishman wrapped his lips around Alfred's finger and sucked on it gently. He could feel Alfred's eyes on him and internally grinned, he had a feeling that the American was imagining him licking him other places as well. Hazy sky blue eyes looked down at him as Arthur released Alfred's finger. A string of saliva connected them, like a strand of spider's silk.

"Arthur, you didn't learn that from Francis, did you?" asked Alfred nervously. Arthur looked at the lad and tilted his head to the side, this wasn't like Alfred, he honestly thought the American would have him on the flour covered island. "No, why?" responded Arthur, he was more than a little confused. That should have worked, if Alfred had been the one to suck his fingers he would have felt it. A bright red blush swept across his face, even his ears were bright red, it was actually an amusing sight. "Um, nothing," he responded sheepishly as he adjusted his glasses. Honestly Alfred was asking Arthur to pounce him, with that delicious blush and innocent way, there was little keeping the Englishman at bay. "Alfred, love," he whispered as he slowly swept his fingers through the soft mop of blond hair, "What's the matter?" he finally asked.

Alfred looked at him nervously and shifted a little on one leg, clearly something was consuming him, "I kind of wondered if," he paused and rubbed the back of his neck, he looked away as he did so. "I wanted to, you know, kiss you," he said nervously and blushed even brighter if that were even possible. Arthur smirked and responded, "Not one of those good night pecks we gave one another I hope," he retorted. Alfred's head snapped in his direction, and he looked a little insulted. Alfred slowly bent down a little and pressed his lips to Arthur's they were just as soft as they looked, as if not more so. His eyes fluttered closed, as he felt his lips move against Alfred's the feeling was more than enough to drown him. Before he realized it he was hungrily pressing his lips against Alfred's, they moved fluently it was a pleasant rivalry over who had control. His head was swimming as he gently nipped Alfred's lower lip. The American gasped, which Arthur took as an invitation to take a better taste of Alfred. His tongue slipped into the taller man's mouth and gently caressed his tongue. He could taste the cranberries and orange zest, as well as Alfred. They tangoed as their hot, wet, and soft tongues slipped over one another. Caressing every crevice of Alfred's mouth which, caused a low moan to escape him.

Arthur retreated and left his mouth open hoping Alfred would accept the silent invitation. Alfred's arms wrapped around the Englishman and crusted his small frame against his as his tongue invaded Arthur's mouth. His movements weren't as smooth as Arthur's own which made him question how much experience Alfred really had. He was a little too forceful which made it uncomfortable, Arthur pulled back panting. "Alfred, relax, this isn't about besting one another, it's about pleasure," he purred, "Giving," he commented as one of his hands slipped over Alfred's chest, "and receiving," he commented as his other hand grew closer to Alfred's waist. There was that sweet blush again, it was going to be the death of him, and he knew it. The American licked his lips, "Artie, you didn't tell me you had a tongue piercing," he commented. The Englishman blushed and looked away, "I went through a punk phase," he confessed and sighed. He knew it was still in, and he took care of it, he was just careful to not let Francis or the others see it. Francis had assisted him with it, however, he probably thought he had taken it out.

He glanced up at Alfred, who looked a little nervous, "That's incredibly hot, I heard that people with tongue piercings were incredible kissers," he stated as he looked down at Arthur. "I had no idea it was true," he commented as he looked at the Englishman. Clearly he also hadn't expected it, Arthur smiled and chuckled. Part of him wondered how Alfred would take it if he learned of the other reckless things he had done in his Punk Years. Arthur laughed and whispered, "Oh I've done things which would make even the Frog blush," he commented with a grin. Alfred's lips parted, and he stared, clearly he was amused, who knew catching an American was this easy. "Like?" asked Alfred curiously.