America was most definitely not freaking out.

Definitely, definitely not freaking out.

And hell, even if he was freaking out (he wasn't), it definitely, definitely wasn't because he was trapped in Lincoln's bedroom and it was midnight and England had fallen asleep about an hour ago and left him wide awake and he was all alone and oh my god, what was that noise?

Deep breath…not freaking out…Hero. He was a hero.

Heroes didn't get scared of little bumps in the night, dammit.

America bit his lip and tried to focus on keeping his eyes closed. If his eyes were closed, he wouldn't be able to see anything scary, and everyone knows that if you didn't see something, it wasn't there.

Perfect!

Thump.

Blue eyes flew open. There was no way he imagined that. No fucking way he imagined that.

"England," he hissed in a whisper, shaking the older nation lightly. "Englaaand."

Thump.

"ENGLAND!" Still trying to keep his voice at a loud whisper, America violently shook England into consciousness, burying himself deep into the covers. There was no way he was going to face whatever was out there alone, he would rather deal with a cranky England any day.

"What is it, you git?" England snapped, pushing America's arms away. America shrunk back even farther into the covers, smiling sheepishly at the older nation's glare.

"I heard a thump."

"Bloody hell."

"I did!" America insisted, peaking out from his cocoon and scanning the room suspiciously. "There was this thump and-"

Thump.

He flew out from under the covers and latched on to his pillow. "See! There it was again!"

"It was nothing. Go back to bed," England snapped, pulling the covers over his head and facing his back to the frightened nation. America gaped at the back of his head.

"E-England! No! Don't go back to sleep! Please? England…?" When he received no response to his pleading, America gulped, whimpering quietly and pulling the blankets to his chin with white knuckles.

Well fuck. Now what was he supposed to do?

He pursed his lips and nervously allowed his eyes to scan the surrounding area. Okay, he totally had this down; all he had to do was 1. Assess the situation, 2. Form an appropriate course of action, and 3. Attack given adversaries, be they animal, mineral or paranormal, and fight until victorious.

Right. Ready…go!

Thump.

"Alfred."

…Okay.

Fuck. That.

"England, so help me god, if you don't wake up this second-!" America cried, leaping atop the older nation and shaking him rather violently until his eyes finally popped open.

"Ugh! What is it, you sodding- Oi! Get the fuck off of me!"

America clung to the older man, who let out an 'oof' in response. "Something just said my name, England! I dunno what it was, but it said my name! WHY DID IT SAY MY NAME?"

England wiggled his way out from under America, his cheeks puffing up in annoyance. "It was just your imagination you twat! Bloody hell, if this is how you're going to act at every insignificant little soun-"

"Arthur."

"What?" England snapped.

America shook his head as his eyes widened and the color drained from his face. "T-that wasn't m-me…" he squeaked.

England raised an eyebrow in response. "What do you mean 'that wasn't you'? Who was it then?"

Another squeak. "I don't know."

For the briefest moment, a flash of fear streaked across the older nation's face, but as soon as it was there, it was replaced with a determined, stern upper lip. "This is complete hogwash," he huffed. "I'm going to prove to you that there is absolutely nothing going on in this room but an overweight, panicky American keeping me from getting a good nights rest."

"I am not overweight." America pouted before latching himself onto England's arm desperately. "Don't do it, England! It'll get you! I don't want to be alone!"

"Nothing is going to get me!" England grumbled, shaking the younger nation off his arm and stomping to closet in the corner of the room, ignoring the idiot's complete lack of concern for his wellbeing. America whined in protest from the bed as England gripped the doorknob, and rolling his eyes, he ripped the door open and gestured inside. "Look, shoe racks! How terribly frightening!"

"Just because it's not in the closet doesn't mean it's not somewhere else."

"Where else would it be?"

"Hell if I know! It's a ghost! It can be anywhere it wants to be!"

England rubbed his temples, taking a deep breath to calm his anger. Thank the Queen that wanker was cute; he would not have made it this long otherwise.

"Listen you git, I am not going to tell you again. There is absolutely nothing in this room!"

"Get out."

The large crystal chandelier decorating the room shook above England's head, quickly gaining the nation's attention. With wide eyes, he managed to dodge out of the way just as the fixture came crashing to the floor beside him, yelling out in surprise and pain as a large crystal shattered, cutting into the palm of his hand.

"England!" America gasped, leaping from the bed and rushing to the other nation's aid. England stayed motionless on the floor, holding his injured hand in the other as America lifted him up and guided him back to the bed. "Jesus Christ, old man. Are you okay?"

"What the fuck just happened?" He gasped, cringing as America pulled his hand away to inspect his wound.

America bit his lip. "I told you, dude. I told you something was after us." He winced, ignoring England's protests and scolds to be gentle as he wiped away the fresh blood with the bottom of his shirt. "It doesn't look too deep, I don't think you'll need stitches or anything, but I should bandage it up."

As England opened his mouth to remind America that he had, in fact, been around far longer then he, and as such, could very well figure out he didn't need stitches on his own, when America began taking off his shirt.

Oh merciful heavens, he was taking off his shirt.

"What are you doing?" England cried, turning away as his face began to flush.

America blinked. "Taking off my shirt?" He replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I can bloody see that, you git! Why are you doing it?"

"Well I can't let you get blood all over Lincoln's room, can I? It's a huge tourist stop. Besides, I already used my shirt to clean you up, so…" he shrugged, ripping off a sizeable piece of the cotton material and wrapping it cautiously around England's palm, tossing the rest if the shirt aside.

England gulped, his eyes following America's surprisingly careful, precise actions as he kneeled on the floor in front of him. The younger nation's eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and his tongue peaked out from the side of his lips in complete concentration. England forced his eyes away from this altogether satisfying sight, letting them wonder leisurely down his neck and shoulders to his bare abdomen.

Though it was probably just the blood loss speaking, for a brief moment England seriously considered thanking their paranormal roommate for such a delightful spectacle.

"There. How's that feel, England? …England? England!"

"What?"

"And welcome back." America raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You spaced off for a second there. Don't tell me the ghost possessed you or something," America asked nervously, backing away a few inches. England rolled his eyes.

"Nothing possessed me, you twat! I was just…" He trailed off; looking away from America as he felt the blush creep it's way back onto his cheeks.

America crossed his arms. "Why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing!"

"Yeah you are." Placing his hand roughly on the top of England's head, America forced the older nation to look at him. "Dude, seriously, what is it?"

England flushed even darker. Fidgeting with his bandage, he tried to squirm his way from America's grasp, which, much to both his pleasure and horror, resulted in America wrapping his arms around him to keep him still.

"England, what the fuck!" He grunted, and with an exasperated sigh, held him out at arms length and studied him over. England cursed inwardly; figures the idiot would choose this moment to suddenly become observant.

"Release me this moment, you twat! And for the love of God, put on a bloody shirt!"

"What is it with youand this shirt obsession, lately?" America groaned. "Seriously, every time I take the damn thing off, you get all awkward and blushy and-"

…Oh.

America's face split into a large, shit-eating grin. "Oh my god, you were checking me out."

England gasped. "I was d-doing no such thing, you prat!"

"No," America squealed, poking England's cheek, "you're blushing! You were totally checking me out!" With a smirk, America turned his back to England, peaking over his shoulder behind him with half-lidded eyes, his index finger resting on his lower lip seductively. "Like what you see?"

England flushed. "T-this is completely idiotic! I was in no way-"

America had none of it of course, far to busy trying to keep himself from falling to the ground in laughter. "I can't believe it! Prussia was right! You do want in my pants!"

"I beg your pardon?" England shrieked.

"You want in my pants! You think I'm seeexy," America sang, dancing around a little for England's benefit, "you want to kiiiss me, you want to hooold me!"

England was positively glowing with embarrassment and rage to the point where smoke could almost be seen coming from his ears. With a growl, he stepped dangerously closer to the American, who stopped his antics to regard him in amusement, the smile never leaving his face.

"You know, it totally all makes sense now. You were always telling me how cute I was as a kid. Guess I grew up nicely, eh old man?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Of course you were cute as a child! All children are cute!" England exclaimed, flushing.

America held up a finger in argument. "That's not necessarily true. I've seen some ugly kids."

England scoffed. "Rubbish. Everyone was already grown by the time we found you."

"Doesn't mean I've never seen a kid before. I've seen some seriously unfortunate looking ones."

Green eyes rolled as England crossed his arms. "Name one."

"Canada."

"…Who?"

"You know, Canada. Mattie. We were just at his house." He paused and watched the recognition creep onto England's face. "He was one ugly-ass kid."

"Oh, he was not."

"Yeah he was! Don't you remember?" America asked. "His head was all goofy lookin'. All lumpy and shit."

England could only gape. "What are you fucking talking about? Canada was a perfectly lovely child! …And stop changing the subject!"

America beamed, running a finger down the front of England's shirt. "Oh, you mean the subject of how you want in my pants?"

"I don't want in your bloody pants!" He snapped, slapping the laughing nation's hand away. "I was talking about the light fixture that almost decapitated me, idiot!"

America's expression suddenly became serious. England exhaled in relief. "That's right, the ghost."

"We don't even know it was a ghost," England said with a sigh. "Perhaps it was simply faulty installation."

"Why if it isn't Alfred and Arthur. Sure made a mess of things, didn't you?"

"Oh and I guess that was the faulty installation too, huh?" America glared at England who had now turned a particularly ugly shade of olive green.

Clearing his throat and trying his hardest to sound even a little intimidating, England clenched his fists and called into the dark room. "W-who's there? I demand you show yourself!"

A small chuckle alerted both England and America, who had taken to hiding behind a pillow to England's left, to a (surprisingly solid) white figure making it's way out of the shadows near the wardrobe on the opposite end of the room. Instinctively, England took a step in front of America, who whimpered quietly as the figure moved closer.

"Don't tell me you boys don't remember me?" It asked, amusement evident in it's vibrant red eyes.

"Abe…?" America whimpered, clutching his pillow to his chest. England turned around in surprise at hearing his voice before spinning back to the figure as it chuckled again, fully emerging from the shadows.

"Hello, Alfred. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

America narrowed his eyes. "You look different."

"Well no shit- I mean, of course I have! I'm dead, silly!" Lincoln laughed heartily, waving off the comment and gesturing for the nations to take a seat at the end of the bed. "Now, what is this I've heard of a 'prank war' between the two of you at this years G8 summit?"

"Hold on a tick," England replied skeptically. "How the hell would you know anything about that?"

"I hear things," Lincoln replied simply, pulling up a chair and settling it in front of America and England.

America cleared his throat, still obviously weary to be talking to the ghost of his former boss. "W-well, It started when England renamed The Sears Tower after one of his stupid companies."

England huffed. "No, I believe it started when America defaced Big Ben by drawing a penis all over it."

America grinned. "That was fucking hilarious, actually."

"It was vile and immature!"

"And canceling Harry Potter wasn't?"

"Enough!" Lincoln roared, taking America and England back. America whimpered and hid behind his pillow once again. "My god! You two have even more problems than I thought." Rubbing his temples, Lincoln stood up and started walking back to the closet. "Stay here and sort out all your fucking sexual tension. That's right, don't look at me like that, I've been dead for 145 years and even I can see it. And if you even think about not being completely truthful to each other, you'll be sorry…they don't call me Honest Abe for nothing."

With a rather intimidating cut-of-the-throat motion, Lincoln was gone and the two nations were left alone once again. With a noise that bordered somewhere between amused, confused, and scared shitless, America cautiously lowered his pillow, refusing to take his eyes off the now empty corner of the room.

"Well," he mumbled, "Lincoln seems a little more intense than I remember."

"Just a bit," England agreed.

They continued to sit in an awkward, uncomfortable silence; America absentmindedly tinkering with the end of his pillowcase, England fiddling his thumbs and admiring the crown molding gracing the walls, and let the ex-president's words marinate in their thoughts.

"Listen, America-"

"Hey England-"

They blushed, laughing nervously. With a small smile, America gestured England to continue. "S-sorry, what were you saying? You go ahead."

"Oh, um, right." England cleared his throat. "W-what I was going to say was…would you stop looking at me like that?"

America blinked. "Like what?"

England huffed. "Just…like that! Stop looking at me!"

America scrunched his face in confusion. "Where am I supposed to look?"

"Anywhere! I don't bloody care! Just not at me!" America made a bewildered murmur, but England could see out of the corner of his eye that the younger nation's gaze had settled else ware. He sighed in relief; the action probably wouldn't make this any easier, but like hell he was going to chance it.

"Fine. I'm not looking at you, you may now continue." Although England could practically hear the eye roll in America's comment, he figured he might as well continue.

"Right, brilliant." He took a deep breath. "I just wanted to tell you… This past week…hasn't been a complete nightmare. Don't get me wrong it was still total rubbish! But I suppose…it could have been…worse."

America grinned. "Aww, old man, is this your way of saying Prussia was right about my pants?"

England scoffed angrily, crossing his arms and turning his head away, blushing wildly. "Well! I'm trying to be civil, but if you insist on acting like an idiot, then-"

"England!" America laughed. "I was just kidding!" He smiled warmly, before biting his lip and flushing lightly. "Honestly…I kinda…agree with you."

"What?" England asked.

America shrugged self-consciously. "Yeah, I mean…you know. I do really like hanging out with you and stuff…and it is pretty awesome getting you all pissy."

"I do not get pissy."

"Sure you do!" America laughed. "You just can't tell because your eyebrows still haven't grown back."

England chuckled, giving the younger nation a friendly punch in the shoulder. "At least my skin is it's natural colour, you git."

"Hey! The purple is totally almost gone! You can only tell in bright sunlight now!"

The nations laughed quietly, finding the comfortable atmosphere refreshing and relaxing until England noted the time and ordered them to turn in for the night. In a pleasant silence, they got themselves tucked back into bed once England agreed to take the side closest to the closet, just in case Lincoln decided to stop by once again.

England yawned, pulling the comforter up to his chin and closing his eyes as America placed his glasses on the bedside table. As he slipped under the blankets, America chuckled to himself.

"You know," he said with an amused smile and a barely visible blush on his cheeks. "Prussia is such a crazy-ass guy. I mean us wanting to…hook up? Oh man, that's a laugh!"

England laughed bitterly, giving his pillow a hearty punch. "He's a total nutter. I mean," he sneered, "what would give that tosser an idea like that?"

America shook his head. "No clue, dude. I mean, sure, we are, like, really great friends and all, but that's no reason to think something like that."

"My thoughts exactly," England agreed, subconsciously scooting closer to America under the covers. "Of course, there is all that rubbish about our 'special relationship', which certainly doesn't help matters."

"Oh god, the whole special relationship thing!" America moaned, rolling over to face England. "What? Just because we promised to always be there for each other and support each other no matter what? Give me a break."

England chuckled softly. "He probably thinks I want you because I worry about you when you do stupid, idiotic things," he bit his lip, uncertain green eyes locking tenderly with blue, "even though you succeeded from me all those years ago…"

"…Or because I only do those stupid, idiotic things to get your attention…" America smiled apologetically.

"Or because I sometimes find myself gazing at you from across the conference table…" England whispered, moving closer.

"…And sometimes I think your accent is really, really sexy…" America whispered back.

Their faces were barley an inch from each other when England felt his eyelids begin to fall. "Or because I've honestly wanted in your pants for fucking decades."

"So maybe Prussia isn't completely insane, after all?" America grinned suggestively.

"Oh no, he's still completely barmy." England smirked, yanking the covers over their heads. "He just got lucky this time around."

Prussia grinned, squeezing out from the trap door behind the closet and stepping into hallway, carefully removing his top hat and fake beard. With a confident thumbs up, he handed the costume to the two men awaiting him and crossed his arms, preparing for his praise.

"Well?" The Prime Minister asked eagerly. "Did it work?"

"Pshaw, of course it worked! The awesome me makes anything I put my mind to nothing short of an absolute triumph!"

The President and Prime Minister sighed in relief.

"Oh thank god." The President smiled. "So you got them to make up?"

Prussia grinned. "More like make out." The Bosses grimaced.

"Bloody hell…"

"Definitely not part of the plan, Prussia."

Prussia simply laughed, slapping them men heartily on back. "My pleasure, gentlemen! Now, I believe we had an agreement. I scare the shit out of Wonderboy and Iggy, and you two provide me with my demands? Hurry it up! I have a plane back to Canada to catch. Tomorrow is sap tapping day, and I'll be damned if I miss that shit."

Rolling his eyes, the president handed the nation a Disney World season pass.

Prussia ripped the plastic card from his hands and strode from the hallway, laughing to himself. "Kesesese~! I can't wait to ride the Dumbo ride!"

Exchanging worn out glances, the Prime Minister and the President wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders and wearily walked together to their respective bedrooms.

"You think they'll think twice about pulling pranks on each other again?" the President asked hopefully.

The Prime Minister chuckled. "I doubt it, especially with Prussia's alteration of our plan. If anything they're probably encouraged."

"As long as they're not bothering me, I couldn't care less what is going on in that room." The President shook his head before smirking at the other man.

"So," he asked, "think we should tell them the door was unlocked the whole time?"

And she is DONE! Silly Prussia, you were only supposed to scare them into getting along again... not... that... Though none of us mind. XD

WELL everyone, I hope you all enjoyed readying this little adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it! May I just say that I have the AWESOMEEST readers EVER? Cause I totally do! You all have been nothing short of supportive and encouraging and every review you all gave me brightened up my day!

A massive thank you to everyone who showed interest in making fanart for this story! The amazing OrangePlum has even already done some! Everyone get your butts over to http: / gin-inu. deviantart. com/ (minus the spaces of course) And check out the TftP pics as well as all her other work, cause she is AMAZING!

Again, thank you all for being awesome, and I'll see you next time hopefully! Have a great day!