Lovers in Paradise

England blinked. "What the bloody hell?" he muttered. He blinked again, then shouted out the only possible explanation for this…thing.

"ALFRED!"

No response. So, logically, he screamed again.

"ALFRED!!"

Still nothing. Arthur supposed this…object had been left there last night, or early that morning. He was going to get that arrogant nation back for this.

For God's sake, there was a teddy bear the size of…of him! It was a fluffy, mustard-colored stuffed bear about the size of Ivan. Actually, Arthur amended, it was bigger than Ivan. Anyway, the giant…monster was sitting in his living room. Arthur doubted he could even move the damn thing, let alone appreciate it for whatever reason Alfred thought he would appreciate it for. Why was it in his house anyway? Then again, it was Alfred. Anything could happen. But a teddy bear? From Francis he would expect something like this, but from Alfred?

Then he smacked himself over the head. Of course. He checked the calendar, and groaned as he saw the date. February 14th. Valentine's Day. He walked into the kitchen, setting water to boil to make a cup of extra strong tea. He was going to need it.

"Arthur!" came a shout from the stairs just as his tea finished brewing. He hastily took a large gulp before turning to address the other nation.

"Alfred," he said as he turned, then nearly dropped his tea cup. Alfred was completely naked, nothing on him except for Texas. Arthur turned, grabbing a half empty bottle of whiskey from the counter and taking a quick gulp, as even his strongest tea was not strong enough for this. "W-why are you running around starkers?!"

"Well, you were supposed to see the teddy bear- his name's hero, by the way—and become so happy that you would find me and ravish me! Pretty awesome plan, huh?"

"Alfred," Arthur hissed, fearsome eyebrows furrowing in a way that showed this was not a 'pretty awesome plan' at all. "A giant teddy bear? Honestly?"

America's grin began to falter. "I just thought-"

"That's just it! You didn't think!" Arthur snapped back, taking another gulp of tea.

"Well…sorry, I guess," Alfred replied, rubbing the back of his head. He turned to head out of the kitchen.

"And put some bloody clothes on!"

England blinked. He didn't even pause to think before he shouted "Alfred!". He couldn't even leave his own house for ten minutes before his former colony-turned-lover broke in and did something.

This something was red roses. Everywhere. All over the coffeetable, the mantle, the side table, the kitchen counter. Alfred bounded down the stairs, fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, and Arthur was sure if he wasn't so angry he would think the latter—wearing clothes.

"Aren't they pretty?" Alfred asked, beaming at his lover.

"Alfred."

"Since you didn't like Hero, I thought I'd get you something else-"

"Alfred."

"-And I was like 'what says I'm sorry you didn't like my hero-tastic valentine's present' like red roses?"

"Alfred."

"I got a bunch of them, and if you count them, you'll see that it means that-"

"ALFRED!"

America fell silent. For once.

"Take these bloody roses out of my house!" Arthur yelled before stomping up the stairs to his room. The only good part of this was that the giant bear was gone.

He opened the door to his room, and found more red roses and the bear.

"Bloody wanker," England screamed, slamming his door shut. America, still in the living room, cringed.

England blinked. He had just sat down to a nice meal of tea and scones when Alfred burst in again and shoved a large red heart-shaped box into his face.

A little scared to see what was in the box, England untied the large bow tying the box closed and opened it. Within the box was chocolate of all kinds. All set in a pink fluffy tray.

Arthur closed the box and closed his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he put his face in his arms and sighed. Alfred's eager expression turned to confusion as he saw Arthur's reaction.

"You don't like it?" Alfred guessed, disappointment clear in his voice

"No, you git! I'm bloody allergic!" Arthur yelled, shoving the box into the arms of a devastated American and storming out of the room, leaving the house soon after.

Alfred sighed and hung his head as England left. Then he saw a piece of paper, folded up neatly with his name on the top in Arthur's neat script. So, obviously, he opened it. It read:

Alfred- Come to dinner tonight at 7:30 sharp. Dress nicely for a rather warm occasion. Happy Valentine's Day to you. Love, Arthur.

After Alfred got over the fact that England actually knew what this day was, and wasn't just being an ass like he always was, he started to wonder why exactly none of his presents could please the Englishman.

England knocked on France's door, and ahd the sudden feeling that what he was about to do –namely, asking Francis for a favor, on Valentine's Day no less—was a very bad idea. Before he could turn and run, however, the door opened a crack and a blonde head poked out.

"Oui? Who is calling on me on Valentine's Day?"

"It's me," Arthur replied shortly, refraining from adding any insults or curses, as that was a bad way to start out asking for a favor. "I have a favor to ask." The door opened more, allowing him in, and England cringed a little, wary of France following his usual no-clothes lifestyle, especially on Valentine's Day.

Fortunately—as this time, it was extremely fortunate—he was wearing clothes, and Arthur stepped into the house and followed the other nation to the living room. They sat across from each other on the soft couched, neither speaking for several minutes.

"Angleterre, I can not help you if you do not tell me the favor you need."

"I wanted to cook Alfred a Valentine's Day dinner, but-"

"But you cannot cook," Francis finished, smiling a little. "Mais, it is a little late for me to teach you, non?"

"No, you bloody frog! What I meant to ask was if you would mind cooking dinner for us. A romantic dinner. And don't say you have work to do, because I know you were planning on cooking something for you and Matthew anyway." Francis smirked and opened his mouth, and England quickly added "And no, I will not do you any sexual favors to repay you."

Francis's smile faded a little. "D'accord, I will cook dinner for you two. But under one condition."

"Fine, what's the condition?"

"You and Amerique must join with Canada et moi for un nuit de plaisir."
"…what?" England asked, Francis's statement having been too much French and not enough English.

"In short, you and Alfred will engage in a foursome with Canada and myself."
"I said no sexual favors!"

"Then I guess you can cook dinner for yourself."

"Fine. This better be worth it," England agreed, glaring at the other nation. He stood up to leave and, before doing so, added for good measure, "Bloody wanker."

"How did you know what I do at night?" Francis returned.

Alfred returned to Arthur's house at 7:31. Before he started up the front steps, he straightened his bomber jacket and made sure his tee shirt wasn't stuck in his jeans anywhere. It wouldn't do to look sloppy, after all. He walked up the door, and before he could ring the doorbell, the door opened to England glaring up at him.

"You're late," he growled.

"Good to see you too, Arthur." England rolled his eyes, opening the door wider so the American could walk into the house. They looked each other up and down, Alfred appreciating the way Arthur's tuxedo jacket hugged his frame and made his green eyes even brighter.

"I told you to dress nicely," Arthur stated. Alfred smiled, but didn't reply. The Englishman rolled his eyes again and led the taller nation down a hallway he had, surprisingly, never been down before.

"Alfred," Arthur started as he stopped in front of a plain wooden door. "You can't tell anyone about this room. No one except for you and France know about it. All right?" Alfred nodded, and wondered why, exactly, no one could know about this particular room.

Arthur unlocked the door and held it open for the other nation. Alfred took one step into the room and then stopped and gasped.

There was a sun and clouds and brilliant blue sky visible through the ceiling, even though he knew it was night outside. Small trees and flowers and shrubs covered the room, grass and springy moss carpeting it. There seemed to be no walls, no limit, to the room either.

"This is…" Alfred started, eyes wide.

"My personal greenhouse and indoor garden," Arthur finished.

"How come no one can find it?"

"I can do magic, remember? A simple cloaking is no matter for someone of my caliber."

"But-"

"Sit down, Alfred!" Alfred complied. Arthur pulled a basket and a checkered blanket from behind a tree and placed I between them. He opened the wicker basket and pulled out the food Francis had cooked for them.

"You…cooked?" Alfred asked, looking in ghastly horror at the covered containers he was taking out.

"Don't be daft. Francis cooked it for us."

"All right then." And they began to eat.

When they were nearly finished, Arthur stopped and cleared his throat.

"D-do you like your present?"

"The room and dinner?"

"Well…kind of." Arthur's blush grew darker. "I'm giving you eternal Spring. Even in the middle of winter."

"Huh?"
"Spring. You do know what spring is, don't you? Flowers, trees, warmth. And you love spring, so…"

Alfred dove on top of Arthur, smile wide and bright.

"Arthur! You did this for me? Thank you , thank you, thank you!" Alfred pressed a quick kiss to the older nation's cheek.

"You're welcome," England grumbled, returning the hug lightly. "Now get off of me." Alfred didn't move and didn't respond. "Alfred?"
"How come you didn't like any of my presents?"

"For god's sake, Alfred! You gave me a giant teddy bear, almost a thousand roses, and chocolates, which I'm allergic to! And they're all such generic Valentine's Day presents, too!"

"I didn't try to get generic presents! I got you the teddy so you'd be reminded of me when I have to be in my own country or someplace else. And the roses are red, like the Tudor roses, because you liked Elizabeth so much. And I got you 999 of them –didn't you count them?—and that means that I want to be with you forever! And I didn't know you were allergic to chocolate! I got you those cause they're sweet, like you!" As Alfred went through every present, Arthur's blush grew darker and darker. "And I'm sorry you didn't like them…"

"A smaller teddy bear would have reminded me of you all the same. And I know you want to stay with me forever, and I want to stay with you forever, without having to spell it out in roses. And…"Arthur looked off to the side. 'You can just tell me I'm sweet, if you must."

"You're sweet, Arthur."

"Git."

"So," Alfred pushed himself off of Arthur, settling back into a cross-legged position. "What did France make for dessert?"

Arthur dug into the basket. "Strawberry shortcake, it seems like. And…" his hand found something else, which he pulled out as well. It was a tube of lube.

"I think we'll be needing that later," Alfred said, taking it from Arthur before the furiously blushing nation could throw it into the trees somewhere, slipping it into the pocket of his jeans.

"H-here." Arthur passed one of the plates to the taller nation, not meeting his eyes. They ate in relative silence until both plates were cleared.

"Arthur," Alfred said. Arthur looked up at him. "You have some cream on your face."

"Where?" Arthur asked. Alfred leaned toward him and licked his cheek gently. Arthur's cheeks burned red. Alfred smiled, and leaned in to press his lips gently to the other blond's, smiling into the kiss.

"Thank you," Alfred said as he broke apart. England's blush darkened.

"You're very welcome. I just thought-"

Alfred cut him off with a kiss, hesitantly asking for entrance. When he met no resistance, he explored the Englishman's warm cavern. Arthur brought his arms up to encircle Alfred's neck, bringing the taller nation fully on top of him. Alfred gave a small gasp of surprise, resting his weight on his forearms, neither breaking the kiss.

Alfred's arms slipped down to wind around Arthur's waist and brought their bodies impossibly closer. He aligned their bodies, grinding their already forming arousals, Arthur whimpering and Alfred moaning. Alfred began kissing a path down his neck, pausing occasionally to nip and suck at random spots.

Pushing the brown bomber jacket off impatiently, Arthur once again remembered that he had told America to dress nicely. Fortunately for Alfred, this was the last semi-coherent thought that went through his head.

Met with the collar of the Englishman's shirt, Alfred began to undo the bowtie, then unbuttoning the shirt as quickly as possible, in a hurry to rid the Englishman of his clothes. Arthur threaded his fingers through Alfred's hair, almost unconsciously brushing against Nantucket.

"A-ah!" Alfred moaned, his face flushing as he felt all the blood in his body flow south. His hips jerked down, Arthur pushing back and moaning.

They kissed slowly, tongues winding together. Alfred pushed the other's open shirt and jacket off, lips sliding over the exposed skin. Arthur bit his lip, pulling at the bottom of Alfred's shirt. The taller nation sat up, pulling his shirt up and over his head before joining their lips again. A hand slid down the smaller man's side, gliding over smooth muscle and soft skin.

"Alfred," Arthur moaned as a hand slid up his chest, rubbing against a nipple.

"Yeah?" Alfred murmured against his neck, his free hand starting to undo Arthur's belt.

"Alfred," Arthur pleaded, quickly undoing the other nation's belt, leaning up to press his lips against the other's shoulder. Alfred finished with Arthur's belt buckle, unbuttoning and unzipping the black pants quickly. Arthur helped him push them off his hips. The American pulled the pants down fully, laying kisses on his thighs as they were revealed.

Arthur pulled him back up for a desperate kiss, unbuttoning and unzipping the taller nation's blue jeans. They were hurriedly shoved down, Alfred grinding his hips against his lover's. Arthur whimpered and Alfred moaned as they started to move together. Arthur's boxers disappeared, followed soon after by Alfred's.

Alfred reached down and, gripping his erection lightly, giving it a brief stroke. The sensation overload made Arthur whimper loudly, almost seeing stars behind his closed eyelids (When had he closed them?) when he suddenly felt a sudden rush of cold air. England opened his eyes and saw Alfred crawling over to where his pants lay, discarded, taking out the forgotten bottle of lube.

"Get back here, you git!" Arthur tried to sound angry, but it just came out as a breathy plea. Alfred just smirked and crawled back to Arthur, taking as long as he possibly could, or so it seemed to the now desperate nation. When Alfred finally reached him again, Arthur pulled him down for a kiss. The other complied, eagerly thrusting his tongue into the mouth that still tasted of strawberries.

Arthur gasped as he felt a lubed finger circle his entrance. 'When did he uncap the lube?' he thought, but moaned as the finger entered him. He decided that, for once, he really didn't give a damn. Alfred's mouth eagerly swallowed the moan as he added a second finger.

The taller nation broke the kiss. As he looked down at the pleading and desperate man fucking himself quite eagerly on Alfred's fingers, Alfred could hardly believe that this man had once been the great British Empire.

"Alfred," Arthur moaned, eyes clenched shut. America pressed a kiss to England's temple, pressing another finger in beside the first two. Arthur made an impatient noise, pushing urgently against the fingers. "Alfred," he groaned. "Hurry up."

"Yeah, I'm going." The fingers were removed, and Arthur felt something blunt pushing against his entrance. Arthur arched his back, as Alfred began to push in slowly. When Alfred was finally sheathed within him, they were both panting harshly. Alfred kissed Arthur and said, rather breathily, "I love you." Arthur closed his eyes again and said, rather impatiently, "move, you git!"

Alfred nodded his agreement, pulling out and quickly burying himself within that tight heat again. Soon their breathing became more erratic and Arthur was thrusting faster and Arthur brought a hand to Arthur's weeping erection.

"Alfred," Arthur moaned, eyes opening to mere slits. "I love you, Alfred." He cried out, back arching as Alfred rammed into his prostate.

"I love you too, Arthur," Alfred panted in reply, meeting the other nation's brilliant green eyes.

"I'm…I'm gonna…"

"Yeah, me too…"

Arthur let out a loud cry of Alfred's name, back arching impossibly higher as thick cum spurted across their chest. The sound of Arthur's release, and the rhythmic contractions of his passage, sent Alfred over the edge as well, groaning into the shorter nation's ear.

Alfred lay on top of Arthur for several minutes, pressing slow, light kisses to the sweat-stained neck.

"You're crushing me," Arthur grumbled from beneath him. Alfred rolled off of him, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Arthur," He murmured.

"You too, Alfred." They sat in silence for a few more minutes. "We should probably wash the dishes."

"That can wait, right?"

"I suppose."

"How'd you get France to cook for us, anyway?"

Arthur tensed, eyes opening wide, biting his lip.

"Arthur..?"

"Why do you want to know?" Arthur asked, panic clear in his voice.

"Just tell me, Arthur," Alfred said firmly. "What'd you agree to so he'd cook dinner for us?"

"Well…About that…"