Sorry about the long wait for this. I've been havng this horrible writer's block. It really really sucks. And schools been somewhat diffcult.

Sorry for the wait, yet again. D:

Ele-kun

Alfred was completely exasperated while he rubbed his face tenderly, nursing it after that blow from France. He had been horribly terrified that Texas was broken... Which he kept rubbing on the rim. He's the hero... but if he lost his glasses, He'd be a BLIND hero. Which was completely useless, if he couldn't save the day without a Seeing-Eye China.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

After his little plane ride into England, he started thinking about what, WHAT EXACTLY he was supposed to say to Arthur...

"DORUFUFUFUFU! OOOH ENGLAND, THE HERO IS HERE!"

"Go away, YOU BLOODY GIT!"

Hahahahahaha.... No.

"Oh England... Please, Let me show you how I feel... and how SORRY I am.. with physical affection."

-PUNCH AND SLAM OF THE DOOR.-

Ahahahaha. What am I, FRANCE?!

Talking to England wasn't exactly the easiest thing. It always seemed like the old man was just LOOKING for faults in him... always shooting down his ideas before he could even speak, with that snide tone of his, which always sang low when he was snapping insults. He always sat around drinking his damn lemon tea...Ugh! It always stunk up the room... and his fucking breathe TOO! The way he'd look at Alfred was almost as if he was silently implying that he was stupid. Those radiant emeralds would glimmer while a delicate hand just under his chin, in a way that always seemed like he wanted to make some obnoxious comment... just like the planes America had made.

"Oh America... that's completely (Retardedly) like you! I mean, what a completely (Retarded) perfect design!"

The only good thing about talking to England was his body language. If there was one thing America could completely master and read: Was talking with the Body. England always talked like he hated him, but would seem to leave himself open to the other. Normally, he'd cross his legs when talking to someone like... maybe Japan. But whenever Alfred came, both of those Argyle socked feet, rested in those daintly little leather shoes, were FIRMLY planted on the ground. He'd normally set his teacup (On it's little platter, since 'A Gentleman must ALWAYS look dignified!') in his lap, and would take a sip when he was bored with what Alfred was saying... or when he was about to make a comment.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe not, but Alfred was DAMN set on finding out exactly how the Brit felt. It wasn't like they had really conveyed any feelings too each other.... often... or... Not as of late.

"Ah~! A-ah! Y.. You bloody Git! D... don't push like that!"

England was mounted atop of the American, his form rising and falling off of a hard arousal. His back arched with each movement from being jostled by America's rough thrusts. Each time he pushed forward, England yelled out either in pleasure, or with a shocked gasp. His sandy hair was amess more than it normally was, due to the antics that the two had been indulging in. Originally, England made a comment which went along the lines of, 'I'm A GENTLEMAN! I would never!' but now... It was quite the opposite. He would lean forward to change the sensation of that act of intimacy for the both of them, while his hands clenched tightly onto those broad shoulders of which belonged to America. Each time as America began hitting a certain spot deep within the Englishmen, he began to cry out, 'Oh Alfred~! Don't stop! P-please don't stop~! Ahhh~! I love you I love you, You Bloody Idiot!" The lighting of the room made everything seem like a dream. It was somewhat dark because of the shades, but bright enough that America could take in every inch of England's exposed skin, every pleasant facial expression.... every inch of that petite figure...

"Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones! W-wake up! We're in England.. like you requested!"

America quickly came back to consciousness. At first he couldn't make out who it was since Texas was across the room (When...?). Lithuania smiled sweetly, reminding Alfred of a small child every time he did. When did he dose off? He couldn't remember, for that matter...

He glanced out the window of that large luxorious jet to find himself in sight of Big Ben.

He was deep into the country of England, In the land of his Depressed Lover.