A/N: I don't delude myself into thinking this is well-written. It took me fifteen minutes and I didn't even read through it before I posted it, but hopefully the fluff will make up for my lack of artistic integrity. Enjoy! (At least I hope so.)
"Ahh, Iggy, it's nice to sleep under the stars, isn't it?"
"Shut up, moron! You're the one who got us into this predicament! If you hadn't set off that damned battle horn, we could be sleeping comfortably in our tents right now."
The Englishman huffed, rolling out his green sleeping bag next to the campfire.
"What's a good battle without a war cry? Sheesh, England, lighten up." The blond whistled as he set up his own bedding uncomfortably close to Arthur's.
Arthur rolled his eyes at his moronic companion. Why had he even agreed to form an alliance with America in this bloody stupid war? Even Italy would have been a better ally... If he weren't so close to that damned Germany all the time, that is.
The weather wasn't actually so bad tonight. Despite the usual cloudy England weather, tonight the sky was lit up brilliantly with billions of stars. A cool breeze ruffled the autumn leaves that surrounded the campsite. It would be rather lovely, if not for Alfred's incessant humming.
"...Must you do that?" Arthur asked, perturbed. He turned over in his sleeping bag, facing away from the other man.
"Hmm? Do what? Oh, the humming?"
"Yes, the humming."
"Oh, sorry. It helps me get to sleep, is all."
"Well, could you do it a little more quietly?"
Thankfully the American didn't protest. His humming dropped to a small whisper, barely audible over the sounds of evening. Arthur shut his eyes tightly, hoping to block out the noise. But... Wait. What was that song?
"God save our gracious queen, long live our noble queen..."
The Englishman's eyes shot open. Didn't he... Didn't he once sing that song to Alfred, when he was still a baby?
"Send her victorious, happy and glorious..." Arthur strained to make out the words.
He listened intently until the song's end, memories flowing back in a sudden rush.
In the old days, before America was a nation, he had lived with England. He'd emulated his every step, followed him everywhere. Even though America was obnoxious, overbearing, and conceited, he really had been rather cute as a child. Arthur clearly remembered the innocent voice that Alfred used to use every night when the older man sent him off to bed.
"Hey, Iggy? Will you sing me the song?"
"Hey, Iggy?" a much older voice piped.
Arthur jumped, startled by the sudden noise.
"Wh-What do you want?"
"Uh... Never mind."
Alfred turned to face the direction opposite Arthur. The pair lay awkwardly back-to-back, their spines touching slightly.
A few minutes of silence passed as the night air grew steadily colder. Arthur noticed a faint clicking sound coming from the sleeping bag next to him.
"Alfred, if your teeth were chattering any louder, I'd think it was a nutcracker sleeping over there."
"Haha, sorry... I'm just a bit cold, is all," the young man said with a sheepish grin. Arthur felt a rush of discomfort come over him.
"Arthur? Can I sleep with you tonight? It's cold..." the young boy said, tugging on the man's sleeve gently.
It really was cold that night. Arthur felt himself begin to shiver as well. He drew the sleeping bag up over his shoulders, but the frigid night air seeped through the edges.
"Hey... Alfred?"
"Yeah?"
"D-Do you want to come over closer to me? It'll be w-warmer that way." Arthur felt a hot blush spreading across his icy cheeks.
"Ah, Iggy, are you cold too? You should have said so in the first place! It's a hero's duty to keep his friends warm!"
"That's a rather odd duty for a hero to have."
"Shut up, you old grouch. And move your elbow out of the way."
Arthur's blush deepened when he felt the younger man slide into his sleeping bag, a rush of cold air surrounding him momentarily. The cold was quickly replaced with the warm, solid feeling of Alfred's chest against his back.
"O-Oi! What are you doing?"
"Well, excuse me for doing you a favor."
"Doing me a favor? You were the one shivering so hard your sleeping bag was unraveling!"
"Well, good thing we've got this one, isn't it?"
A slightly awkward silence fell as the two men tried to get comfortable within the small space. Arthur's heart rose into his throat when Alfred's muscular arm wrapped around his chest from behind.
"Uh... Is this comfortable for you?" Alfred asked tentatively. "I can move over a little if you want."
Arthur's heart was pounding furiously. But the body heat radiating from the man next to him was irresistably pleasant after being so cold.
"No, it's fine," Arthur replied, trying his best to sound manly. "But why do I have to be the girl?" he added indignantly.
"What are you talking about?"
"You've got your arm over me! That's the man's position, right?"
"Well, I can't help it if you're girly. We can't all be super-men like me, can we?" Alfred joked.
Arthur elbowed him in the belly.
"Shut up and go to sleep, you git."
The two lay in silence for another minute, both feeling a bit embarrassed at their current position. What if Germany found them like that the next morning? England shuddered at the thought.
"Hey, Iggy?"
There it was again. That voice from before.
"What is it, Alfred?"
"I can't sleep."
"What in bloody hell do you expect me to do about it?"
"Will... Will you sing me the song?" Alfred asked quietly. "The old one that you used to sing to me before I went to sleep."
"If I do, will you be quiet?"
"Yeah."
Arthur sighed, recalling the words to his country's anthem.
"God save our gracious queen... Long live our noble queen," he sang softly.
He felt Arthur pull him tighter into the embrace.
Maybe it really was warmer this way.
"Ve~! Germany, Germany! Come look!" the Italian waved his arm wildly at his ally.
"Quiet, you'll blow our cover! What is it now?" the blond man asked gruffly.
"Look, look! I found them!"
"Found who?"
"Look, Germany! In that clearing over there!"
Germany walked forward into the campground, hoping to get a better look at the faces of the trespassers.
OH, MEIN GOTT.
The tall man struggled to control his laughter. His two enemies were sprawled rather shamelessly over each other... In one sleeping bag. America's glasses were askew, and England was snoring loudly.
"Oi, Italia," Germany whispered. "Got the camera?"