[A/N: I was inspired for this story when my power randomly went out one day..about two weeks ago..I've been working really hard on this (Since it's my first story xD), So I wanted to get it just right. For me, it seems like I messed up at the end..just sort of let it slip. Well-I'm currently on Vacation in Germany, and It's Five in the morning over here..I guess that might be why..I should get some sleep.

Anyway, Enjoy!]

In The Dark

"Hah! Take that, Assholes! Die Die Die!"

Looking up from his book, Arthur Kirkland sighed for the seventh time that hour.

It had been a normal August night, and the American nation had arrived the day before. Having business with England, of course, meant that staying over at said nations house was needed (God knows that America had already spent enough money as it is. Paying for a hotel room was out of the question).

The blonde haired Briton had been dreading this day for weeks-the constant moaning of the American about his home being 'lame' or 'totally uncool'. Thus beginning the old jokes, it would be a week before the babbling would stop and he would return home.

He was surprised however, when he had brought something to occupy himself for this visit.

"What the hell, dude?" More shouting at the screen could be heard, "I'm on your fucking team!"

Narrowing his eyes at the figure slumped over the couch, he slowly closed the book that rested in his lap and placed it on the small table next to him.

Yes-That's right. Alfred F. Jones had brought over his 'Xbox 360' and his new favorite video game-'Call of Duty'.

England thought it was ridiculous-how could such a bloody, violent game be entertaining? Todays youth was such a mystery for Arthur-and that included America.

"You know they can't hear you.." The British nation decided to speak up after another ten minutes of pointless shouting, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair, watching the man with little interest.

A small scoff was heard as a response, "No duh."

Giant explosions of fire and ammunition were seen on screen, as the soldiers began to fall to the ground, an occasional scream was heard. Arthur shuddered, remembering past wars he himself had been in. Why was Alfred so addicted to this?

"So, you know they can't hear you.." He mused, "Yet you still yell at the screen?"

"'Cause they piss me off." Was the blunt, muttered out response from the American.

"Watch your language, twit." Arthur scolded, before continuing his previous argument, "So if they 'piss you off' so much, why don't you just turn the damn bloody thing off?"

It took a minute-and another few explosions and shouted orders-before the young nation responded. "Then I'd be bored..God knows you got nothin' fun in your house, Artie."

"I-I've got plenty of entertaining things!" He retorted, clenching his fists in mild anger.

The rain outside became heavier, the sound of it clearly being heard on top of the two nations heads on Arthurs roof. He frowned, this was going to be a bad storm. Just a feeling.

"Like what?" Alfred struggled to multi-task, removing one hand from his Xbox controller and adjusting his glasses with a quick push, all the while trying to score 'headshots' with the other hand, "Play a Fascinating game of cricket? Which, by the way, is totally not a rip-off of baseball."

The younger mans sarcasm was already starting to give the blonde haired gentleman a headache. Americans. "Wanker-Cricket came years before that stupid sport of yours!"

"That explains why your game sucks compared to ours." With the score of his 'team' and the opposing 'team', he grinned as he saw that his team had received more points. He put down the controller and leaned back on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Bright blue eyes met with emerald green ones, "We just took your lousy game and made it like, a bajillion times better, yo."

Resisting the urge to scream 'Bajillion is not a number, you twat!'-that would make him a hypocrite about the whole screaming thing-Arthur simply rolled his eyes, ignoring the comment.

With their eyes being disconnected, Alfred picked up the plastic controller again, scrolling through the game options and team members. However, that was shortly lived.

A large crack of thunder was heard over the house, before the sky and outside was dyed a bright white for a minute. Next thing the two nations knew, the house was pitch black.

"W-What..? " Alfred managed to speak after attempting to smash all of the buttons on his controller, "No, no, no! You've gotta be joking me!"

Arthur simply stared at his ceiling and sighed. He was used to it-England was known for its constant rain. A thunderstorm was nothing.

"Oh, calm yourself." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, "It's just a power outage, that's all."

"Oh, really. Didn't quite catch that, Artie." With the tone of his voice, he swore the American rolled his eyes, "Now that you mention it, all the power does seem to be off."

"Keep those smartass remarks coming and you'll be outside." The remarks coming from Alfred annoyed Arthur to no end. He remembered the days when the nation was actually bearable, and dare he say..Cute? What happened..

Footsteps were heard as the Briton walked to his kitchen, leaning against the counters as he opened a drawer, pulling out a flashlight and turning it on. The light was then turned, shining onto the American in the living room across the hall.

Alfred sat on the couch, knees tightly hugged against his chest. He continued to rock back and forth, the same worried tone on his face. Arthur felt a smirk twitching against his lips, "Scared, are we?"

Mumbling was heard from the other, all of it unclear to Arthur. He sighed, crouching down on one knee and opening a cabinet, searching until he found candles and a small box of matches.

He stood, cracking his back and muttering, before placing a candle on the counter and setting the only source of light down, striking the match as it went up in a small flame. One by one, he proceeded to place candles in every room and light them.

By the time Arthur had returned to the living room, Alfred was still in the same position, mumbling nonsense to himself. Rolling green eyes, he sighed. "America. 'The Grudge' does not exist. Neither do those monsters from that one computer game you play...'Amnesia' or whatever."

"That's not it, man!" Alfred stopped briefly from his rocking, "..Although now that you mention it.."

A light smacking sound was heard, a bright red mark now left on Arthurs forehead as he smacked himself. "God save the queen.."

The blonde American shook his head, "Nah, dude. But seriously! What the hell am I gonna do with all the power out? I-I can't play Call of Duty, or make any food-"

He suddenly stood up, almost screeching, "Oh god, the microwave too, Artie! Not the microwave!" Alfred sunk back in his seat, seeming almost on the verge of tears. Before England could even bother asking, he managed to cry out, "I'm gonna starve!"

Holding back the urge to punch the American to the best of his ability, Arthur simply sighed. "Come now, America-"

"Dude, how many times before have I told asked to call me Alfred, Artie?" Having a feeling America was giving him one of those sweet smiles, Arthur shook his head, blushing.

"How many times have I told you to not call me 'Artie', America?" He retorted bitterly. Returning over to his previous seat before the power went up, he lit a final candle there and sat back down, picking the book back up. "As I was saying, I doubt the power will be off for long.."

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Alfred bolted up, "Y-You're just gonna leave me sitting here doing nothing? Don't leave me hangin', bro!"

Ignoring him for a change, Arthur continued to read 'Sherlock Holmes', smiling contently. It was nice to tune out the obnoxious 'man' for a change.

The room stayed silent-minus the clashing sounds of thunder and the downpour of rain-for another few minutes. Until he felt something touch his cheek, causing him to jump.

"Hey..Artie."

Furrowing his brows, he tried his best to concentrate on the book in front of him. But time and time again, Alfred continued to poke his cheek, repeating the same sentence over and over again.

"Hey Artie..Hey Artie..Artieee? Hey-Hey Artie. Hey Artie..Hey Artie. Art-ee. Artie! Hey-Hey Artie!"

"Oh for god's sake.." The Briton slammed his book shut, glaring at America, "What."

"I'm totally bored, dude." Alfred said, frowning, "Like, legit."

His grip tightening around the binding of the book, England bit his lower lip attempting to control his anger. "I'm sorry. What would you-No, what can I do to entertain you during a power outage?"

"Umm..Make the power come back on?" He frowned, "Le-duh."

"Alright. How exactly would you like me to do that?" The blonde haired Briton narrowed his eyes at the dim-light figure next to him.

"I'unno. Jus' do it."

This time he snapped, as he smacked Alfred in the stomach with the book. "Just shut up and read, why dont you? Blimey!"

Another snort and chuckle was heard from the American, "'Cause readings for nerds, dude. Who reads now days when you have Call of Duty, and MTV, and like, those shows about teenage moms and stuff? Those are totally more interesting!"

"..I honestly don't understand your logic behind any of that."

"Pshh, I don't expect ya too!" Alfred plopped down on the couch across from Arthur, "My words are pretty deep. Only a really smart dude or a total hero like me would get 'em."

Using his free hand to rub his temple, England tried his best to stay calm. 'Only a few more hours, Arthur. Then the power will be back on. Come on-You're the united bloody kingdom. Putting up with a Yankee like him sh-'

"HEY ENGLAND! GUESS WHAT?"

Arthur jumped from the sudden outburst, and abruptly stood from his chair. "What, what, what? What the bloody hell do you want?"

A grin formed on the American's lips. "..Chicken Butt."

A few attempts to try and hold back his laughter, Alfred continued to snicker on the couch. Arthur snapped. "That is it, America! I am sick and tired of your constant attempts to bother me! It's getting on my bloody nerves, so I'd greatly appreciate it if you would shut the bloody fuck up."

Alfred blinked, and then smiled again. "Wouldn't be happenin' if you'd just keep me un-bored~"

Seeing as how he was un-phased by the comment, Arthur sighed. Taking a few deep breaths, he finally spoke. "..Alright then. How about I read you a book then?"

"Why?"

"Because you're too idiotic to read a proper book.." He responded lazily, shuffling over to his bookshelf and using the flashlight from earlier to search the numerous titles and old books on his shelf.

Alfred had a look of disgust on his face, "Books are so lame and boring."

Rolling his eyes once more, England pulled a random title from his bookshelf of fairytales and folk tales. Green eyes stared down at the matching green cover-'Beauty and the Beast'.

"Ahh.." A faint smile appeared on his lips, "I remember this one. You loved these kinds of stories as a young lad, America."

He sat down next to the American on the couch. Alfred looked over at the book, and scoffed. "Really, Artie? Fairytales? Dude, that's so totally lame. Not to mention girly. I'm a hero, man! Why can't we read 'Captain America', or maybe 'Superman'?"

He opened the book, "Shush, it's either you listen to this or I leave you down here alone."

When America didn't say anything, he turned on the flashlight. As the dim lights shined onto the page, he began to read.

"..His daughters were extremely handsome, especially the youngest. When she was little everybody admired her, and called her "The little Beauty;" so that, as she grew up, she still went by the name of Beauty, which made her sisters very jealous."

"But-The other sisters were totally bangable too, right?" Alfred asked suddenly, "Why're they jealous of Beauty? She ends up going into bestiality later in the story anyway, right?"

"Stop spoiling it!" England growled, "And it's not bestiality. Has your mind been corrupted with all of this-..Oh, never mind. Just shut up and listen.."

As the story continued, America's eyes occasionally began to shut, and stay closed for a few seconds before he would quickly open them, trying to stay awake. Something about England's voice-the soothing, soft tone he used when he read.

After a while, America yawned, and began to shift on the couch. "Yo, Artie..I can't get comfortable."

He stopped reading, and glanced over at the American. "How is that my problem?"

"I can't listen if I'm not comfortable!" Alfred protested, pouting.

"Yes, very well..Hurry up and get comfortable."

He shifted and turned around on the sofa, but all of the positions resulted in a very uncomfortable-and unhappy-America. Frowning, Alfred finally was about to give in. Eyes resting on England's lap, he had another thought.

England blushed lightly as he left a light pressure on his lap. Moving the book up and looking down, he saw Alfred's face smiling up at him, giving him a thumbs up. "Okay! Ready to go!"

Trying to hide the pink on his cheeks, he furrowed his eyebrows, "W-What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"I'm comfortable now..Your laps comfy." His smile still remained. Arthur put the book back so he could read it, making sure it covered Alfred's face.

"V-Very well..Twit." He mumbled, before continuing on with the story.

After countless attempts at cutting off Arthur, he finally got near the end of the story. "Beast was disappeared, and she saw, at her feet, one of the loveliest princes that eye ever beheld; who returned her thanks for having put an end to the charm, under which he had so long resembled a Beast. Though this prince was worthy of all her attention, she could not forbear asking where Beast was."

America yawned, "So she fell in love with the furry dude and when he was like, dying and stuff, she saved his life by loving him and wanting to marry him and stuff?"

"I haven't finished the story!" Arthur snapped lightly, "..But yes, that's pretty much what happens."

"Sounds like a load of bull to me." Alfred took off Texas, placing them on the coffee table next to them.

Arthur glared at the book, thinking that his glare would pierce through it and Alfred would see it. "It's not 'bull'. It's a lovely romantic fairytale!"

"..I guess."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, surprised. He raised the book again, looking down at the sleepy American. "What did you say?"

"I mean, it's real cheesy. Don't get me wrong with that." Alfred opened one eye, smiling softly at the Briton. "But I'd totally do the same thing."

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, tilting his head and putting the book down.

"I mean, if you were some totally gross, hairy beast thing and dying-I'd totally confess my love for you and ask you to marry me."

Arthurs face darkened, turning red, ignoring the comment about him being a 'gross, hairy beast thing'. "A-Are you trying to imply something here, America..?"

"What? Pshh, nah." Alfred turned his body the opposite way, so his face was turned towards the living room and not Arthur, "If I was confessing my love for you, I'd totally tell you in an awesome way."

"..Is this your so-called 'awesome' way?"

"..Pretty much."

The blonde American closed his eyes again, another loud yawn escaping his mouth before he squirmed, getting comfortable, "Well-Thanks for the story, I guess. Although it was pretty girly."

"Oh, shut up.." Although his face was still bright red, Arthur smiled and placed the book down next to them, and set his hand on the Americans head, stroking his hair lightly. "Just go to sleep, will you, Git?"

"Sounds good.." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes before placing his hands under his head for a pillow, "G'night, Artie.."

Arthur didn't respond, instead he continued to stroke Alfred's hair, watching him sleep. Within the first ten minutes of the American being asleep, there was a small 'bzzt' sound. The light in the house was turned back on, the bright lights causing Arthur to squint for a minute before looking around his home.

"Well, that was quicker than expected.." He commented quietly.

Looking down, he tried his best to maneuver his way off of the couch. Trying to get off and Alfred stay asleep was a challenge, but he managed to do it. Starting to go around the house, one by one he blew out each candle.

After his task was completed, he returned to the living room, leaning against the door frame and spotting the American on the couch, still asleep.

Arthur smiled gently, and pivoted on his heel to go to the Garage, where his power generator was.

Perhaps one more day in the dark with Alfred F. Jones wouldn't be so bad after all..