Decisions, Decisions.

Alfred felt his eyes becoming heavy with each horrible musical note that hung in the air. The waiter had come and taken the dessert plates that he was still fidgeting with and now had nothing left to preoccupy himself with. His half-lidded blue orbs sluggishly moved to the Briton who was seated with his hands clasped in his lap while his lips were curled into a slight smile. The final, terrible high note of Act 1 finally sounded, sending a shrill pain through Alfred's ear, and the lights in the dinner theatre blacked out, leaving everything in the darkness. After a few more beats, the house lights re-illuminated the room, waking the American up completely.

"This was a fantastic idea." Arthur smiled, turning his head to the man beside him. "The soprano-baritone duet was beautiful."

"…Are those both guy singers?"

"No Alfred," Arthur sighed in annoyance. "The baritone is the man's part and the soprano is the highest female voice part."

"Oh, well, the soprano gave me a headache."

"Can't you appreciate anything?"

"The food was good!" Alfred smiled while Arthur placed a hand over his eyes. "Besides, this isn't fair. I thought you meant we were going to a dinner movie theatre; not a dinner boring theatre." The Briton merely glared emerald daggers in the direction of the bubbly man next to him.

"Just this morning you were complaining that I never picked where we went. I finally give in and pick something and you're 'bored.'"

"I didn't think you'd pick something this lame! I thought you'd just say 'I don't know Alfred, you pick' like you always do!" Alfred's voice was taking on the shrill whine that Arthur absolutely despised.

"I can make just as many decisions as you, thank you very much!" Arthur's face was turning a deep shade of red and attention was being drawn to them from all around. The house lights began to flicker, alerting everyone that Act 2 was about to begin.

"You never do!" Alfred said with a childish tone. "You're a control freak but you just leave everything to me, I'm just used to it!" Arthur inhaled deeply and was about to give the ignoramus sitting next to him brutal hell when the house lights darkened and the orchestra started up. As the same irritating soprano took the stage, the American cradled his head in his hands while Arthur sat fuming next to him.

'I don't make enough decisions?! I leave it all to him?! Who the bleeding hell does he think he is?!' The Brit's foot tapped in uneven patterns against the tiled floor. His green orbs shot to Alfred's face, seeing him asleep. He felt his blood boil even more as he mumbled to himself and went back to the show, watching the main couple of the show breaking up. Scoffing, he sacrificed his posture in order to pout to no one in particular. "Bloody prat." He spat to the left of him, not caring if the blonde next to him heard him or not.

Alfred fluttered in and out of conciseness, the quiet dialogue of the grieving woman soothing him to sleep as his head connected with the table top. He let out a sigh in comfortable contentment and let his head drift up and away from the theatre. Dreaming lightly, Alfred dreamt that Arthur was no longer mad at him and was in fact laughing with him, the Brit's hand resting on his thigh. The dream started to fade as the hand traveled higher… And higher… And higher… And —

"H-Hey!" Alfred's knees slammed into the table top as he felt Arthur's hand over his groin and did his best to keep his voice to a whisper. "What're you d-doing, Arthur?!" Shrugging off a devious smirk, Arthur only sighed and continued to watch the show as if nothing was wrong.

"Why, I only made a decision as to what I'd like to do right now, that's all." The English man whispered back.

"Y-You can't be s-seriou—" He felt Arthur's hand move and clapped a hand over his mouth, keeping a moan in the back of his throat. His heart slammed against his chest wall and Arthur's grin grew. Blinking innocently, he applied a bit more pressure to his hand and began stroking Alfred through his pants, enjoying watching him squirm under his touch. Alfred whimpered, trying to keep himself from crying out during the particularly quiet moment in the show. Unfortunately for him, Arthur was not feeling merciful. "S-Stop." Alfred pushed out in a shaky gasp. Arthur felt the other's hardness in his palm and shot him and even more devilish look; the American gripped the side of the table, face flushed, and uneven breathing fogging his glasses.

"I would but I really must start making my own decisions here, I shouldn't leave everything up to you…" Arthur's accent was thick in his whisper which forced another slight groan from the blue-eyed nation beside him. Moving his skilled fingers to the button of Alfred's pants, he tugged, exposing the zipper to his finger tips. He pulled it down, painfully slowly, to the point that had Alfred bucking into Arthur's hand. Finally, Arthur's fingers slid into the waistband of his boxers, tracing small patterns on their way down. Trickling down gently, Arthur gripped the other's member, eyes plastered to Alfred's face which was either twisted in extreme pain or pleasure. Alfred had taken to biting his index knuckle while trying to steady his breathing. Luckily for him, the orchestra began to play the long song between the male and female lead as Arthur began to move his hand along Alfred's length, earning a drowned out moan from him.

"Fuck, Iggy…" Alfred moved his hips desperately trying to quicken Arthur's movements which were agonizingly slow. The Englishman kept his pace, feeling that it was important that Alfred got his message, no matter how terribly embarrassing it would be for him to get it. Alfred's breath came in heavy pants as the tension in his stomach tightly wound itself and he found himself just wanting the whole thing to come an end as quickly as possible. He began jerking his hips under the table, giving Arthur the hint.

"Hmm, are you about done?" He smirked. The American merely closed his eyes and nodded slightly, cheeks even more on fire than before. As Arthur picked up his strokes to be harder and faster, the whimpers coming from Alfred's parted lips began to become louder to the point of being able to hear him over the song that was now at its full out volume. Feeling himself pushing over the edge, Alfred reached over and grasped Arthur's chin in his fingers before crashing his lips onto his in a tight kiss, moaning into it with his release. Taken completely by surprise, Arthur didn't know how to react, but supposed it was the least he could do was muffle Alfred's cries. Kissing back passionately, they stayed locked together until the very end of the song, the sweet harmony drifting in the air and the clapping brought them back to reality. The both of them were out of breath, and Arthur pulled his napkin under the table to clean his hand off. The English nation's smile was prominently displayed while Alfred merely sat glaring to the best of his ability. "…You deserved it." He whispered as the other was still un-amused.

"Yeah, well…" Alfred trailed off zipping his pants up. "How much longer is this thing going to go on for?"

"It can't be much longer."

"Good."

"Are you still bored?" Arthur questioned, placing the napkin back on the table.

"Not really," Alfred grinned widely. "I was just seeing how much longer it'll take to get home. I can't just let you go without revenge, that would be un-heroic of me." He said stealing another quick peck on the other's lips. Resting his forehead against Arthur's he waited for any sign of opposition.

"I always did believe in the saying 'revenge is sweet'." The Briton laughed lightly while closing the distance between the two once more. The stage lights dropped on the scene on stage and left the rest of the crowd in darkness and applause.

A/N: So, that concludes my first really M rated fic. This was actually really nerve racking to write, I felt bad lol. Feedback is appreciated greatly and thank you so much for reading!

ALSO: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers or its characters.

--KB (Kyosbeads13)