A/N:

*This is a reupload on a new account*

Hello it's HRagain here and I'm here with my second fanfiction! This time it's not a horror fic where they all die … o.O'

It's fluffy…..

Anyways,

Rating: T for language

Characters: England/Arthur, America/Alfred

Genre: Romance

Warning: Gets fluffy near the end. In my opinion.

Summery:

England's drunk and America, being the hero, has to take him home. Fluffy, USUK, T for lang.

"I think you've had enough to drink England." America said, as he tried to pry the shot glass out of the older nation's hands.

"I think I can bloody fucking tell when I've had enough to drink dammit. Let go of me." England swatted away America's hand and poured himself another shot of who-knows-what. America scowled at his friend with annoyance. England in return rolled his head onto his left shoulder and smiled a very drunken smile at the scowling nation.

"You should drink too," England pushed the shot glass into America's face. America hadn't had much to drink because he knew if he did, no-one would be able to watch over England, who when got drunk enough, could murder them all, or end up in a closet with France. Either way, England would blame America for letting him get that drunk.

America took the shot glass and with a sigh tipped back the second shot that night for the nation.

"You enjoying yourselves now are you? Hon hon hon." America put the shot glass down in front of England before turning to look at the long haired nation.

"Go away you bloody frog." England spat at France, not even bothering to turn around, as he reached the bottle to pour himself yet another shot.

"Fine, I shall leave you two, but with this-"France snatched the bottle from England and started to walk away.

"Now you get your bloody ass back over here, I wasn't done with that!" England snapped at him with a slurred speech. France turned around, so England reached for the bottle in his hands, and proceeded to fall off his chair, and face-first into the wooden floor of the bar.

America and France both just looked down at England's still figure on the floor.

"Angleterre, if you really want another glass, I'm more than happy to oblige, but, if afraid if I give you another, you will start to bleed through your eyes from your alcohol intake level. I haven't seen you drink this much since your pirate days."

England made some uncomprehendable noise from the floor, while moving his leg -probably in some failing attempt at getting up- managing to knock over the stool he was sitting on. It fell to the floor with a loud crash, narrowly missing England by an inch or two. England didn't even flinch.

With a sigh America slid off his stool and picked up England's stool, setting it upright.

"As much fun as it is to watch you drown in your own drool England-"

England turned his head.

"Frog" France smirked and continued.

"I can easily find much more…entertaining things to do with a certain nation related to you."

He poked his finger into the sleeve of America's bomber jacket with a smirk.

And with that, France turned and went to search for the –nearly- invisible nation he spoke of.

With a growl at the fact France just went off to find his brother for purposes that make America puke at the thought, he looked down at England.

*Sigh*

"Ok England, time to go." He reached down and picked England up, propping him against the bar.

"WHHHYYYYYYYYYY? I'm not drunk yet." With the whine, his head fell down as he started to fall asleep on his feet.

"Oh really? England, what's my name?" America asked, looking skeptically at England.

"Mr. Sexy hamburger." America rolled his eyes before picked up England-who wiggled in protest- so that he was over America's left shoulder. England started to slide off America, so he held England with right hand, it ended up on England's lower back.

America started walking towards the door, looking around as he did. He saw Italy sitting in Germany's lap talking excitedly about who-knows-what while Germany looked the other direction, a blush spread across his face. He saw France whispering to Canada, who was a very deep shade of tomato.

God he didn't want to know what the hell France was going to do to his little brother…..

He reached the door and walked out to England's car. He went to open the door, but stop, realizing he needed the keys. He set England down, propped up against the side of his car.

England stared to slide to the side, heading toward the ground; America grabbed him, pulling him back up and holding England up by holding his shoulders.

"I need the keys England."

England opened one of his eyes at him, squinting.

"What the bloody fuck you want?"

America let out a sigh, rolling his eyes.

"The keys England, I need the keys."

"WHAT BLOODY FUCKING KEYS?" England yelled, looking at him with both his eyes now.

"THE 'BLOODY FUCKING KEYS' FOR THE CAR!" America looked at the ground at let out a heavy sigh, before looking back up at England.

"….Oh, here."

He reached for his pants-pocket and pulled out a single key and gave it to America.

America unlocked the car, and opened the passenger door. He slid England into the seat and closed the door. America walked around the front of England's car, and opened the driver's door. He slid in and started the car.

It was about a 2 hour drive, because the bar was in the opposite direction of England's house from the World Meeting Place.

It took about 5 minutes for the drunken England to fall asleep, so America drove in almost-silence, the only noise was England soft breathing, and the occasional random sentence or word, said just like a pirate, from England.

He giggled a little and his face went red at one thing England said.

He was close to England's home when it started to rain. At first it was nice and a pleasant rain, but quickly turned into a downpour.

America got onto a straight road and glanced over at England, who had fallen asleep with his head against the window, angled slightly toward America, he wondered if the nation had fallen asleep ~watching~ him.

He smiled a bit at the thought.

For almost as long as the nation could remember he'd been in love with England, that was the whole reason for the America Revolution. Well, a big part of it at least.

If he hadn't declared his independence, he would always be seen as a younger brother to England, prohibiting anything from possibly happening between them.

He heavily sighed at the memories, a little louder than he thought, because England stirred, opening his eyes and looking out the windshield.

"Hey Iggy, your awake."

England let out a grunt, and continued looking out at the raining sky.

"We are almost home."

England looked at him.

"Where am i?"

America looked at England,

"In your car."

"Why are you driving MY car then?"

America glared at England, then looked out at the road again

"Because your drunk as fuck."

England glared at America who continued talking.

"And dude, you were talking like a pirate in your sleep. You said something….."

England eyebrows twitched.

"And what's that?"

America smirked and looked over at England.

"Stop it France, you're hurting me."

England's face went white, his shoulders spiking up in horror, before his face grew the darkest shade of red America had ever seen on a face.

Needless to say, America burst out laughing.

"I'M KIDDING, I'm kidding, and you didn't say that." England punched him in the arm and glared, his embarrassment dying down a little.

"Really, you only said random words….it's cool."

England continued to glare out the windshield, still red, but not as much as before.

After a minute or two of silence America pulled into England's driveway. He pulled the keys out, handing them to England.

He got out, and was quickly drenched in the freezing cold rain. With a shiver, he closed the driver's door and walked around to England's side. He pulled open the door and gave his hand to England.

The Brit glared at him and swatted away his hand.

He grabbed the frame of the his car and pulled himself up, but didn't stay like that for long. He swayed back and forth, his eyes jumping around, trying to focus before his legs gave way. America grabbed him, pulling him back up.

"Let go of me-!"

England was cut off by America lifting England up and onto his freezing shoulder and shut the car door with his foot.

"Let me GO America! I'm not confortable! I'm cold! It's raining, and I'm freezing!" England whined and wiggled, trying to squirm off America's shoulder.

He started walking to England's front door trying not to let the squirming England slide off his shoulder.

"ENGLAND! Stop. It's hard enough carrying you and you can't exactly walk, so I'm not going to put you down. And I can't do a damn thing about the rain so you'll just have to shut up about it!"

A minute of silence broke between the drunken nation and the sober one.

"You know what the rain reminds me of? Every time I see it?"

America turned his head slightly and let out an "Hm?"

"That night….." America scrunched his eyebrows together, trying to figure out what England might he talking about.

America froze in his tracks.

That night.

The thought that night sent a hurricane of memories and feelings that he was feeling during that time. The first memory he saw was a mix of England rushing toward him, then in turned into England on the ground his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. The overwhelming feeling of America wanting to run over and hold his ex-brother. The teardrops and rain mixing together and falling off of England's face.

But his memories and feeling and thoughts were interrupted by England.

"Alfred. Why do you only think of yourself? You bloody fucking left my arse. Do you know how much alcohol I drank to get over that fact that I had failed? Ever think about how much pain I was in? No, of course not. No damnit, you only ever think about yourself. You'll never understand the pain…." His voice drifted off, but America hardly noticed.

He reached England's front door and walked directly up to England's room. He put England down at the foot of England's bed, so he was standing, but held England's shoulders, so he wouldn't fall.

Still holding England up with one hand he started to strip England of his soaked clothes, just like England used to do to him when he was a colony and they got stuck out in the rain.

He took off England's shirt, leaving his chest exposed to the cold air, Earing a slight shiver.

He started to take of England's pants, which made England glare down at America, but he didn't stop him.

He didn't take off England's boxers -which by the way were a Unions Jack print- because they weren't wet.

And for obvious other reasons.

He led England down to a sitting position on his bed and went over the England's dresser and looked for a pair of pj's for him. He found a pair of green shorts, and a green shirt. He walked back over and brought England back up to his feet; and he slipped on the button up nightshirt and helped England step into the shorts. England was so out of it he didn't complain about America striping and dressing him, who normally would have screamed bloody murder and tried to kill America in embarrassment.

America, who was still holding England up with one hand, shrugged off his bomber jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He slipped of his shirt with some difficulty, and kept his undershirt on. He paused for a second, debating if he wanted to take off his pants, especially if England was with him….He finally decided to and stepped out of them because England was so out of it he probably didn't care or would remember it in the morning. He sat England down once more and went looking through his dresser for pants that might fit him. He found a pair of his clothes in one of drawers and guessed that one of the times he had slept at England's house, because of a meeting, he forgot a change of clothes. He slipped on the shorts and closed the drawer, walking back over to England. He gathered up the wet clothes and threw them into the sink of England's bedroom's bathroom, then walked back over to England once again.

He got England back onto his feet and held onto his shoulder once again.

"Arthur,"

England looked up at America at the sound of his human name.

"I do care about more than myself; you of all people should know this." Alfred's voice cracked at when he said you. He let go of England who started falling backwards onto his bed, but in his drunken haze he didn't realize he was going to land onto his bed, Even If he had sat on it multiple times within the past 10 minutes.

As he stumbled backwards and grabbed onto America's shirt with both of his hands, pulling him down on top of England.

England had closed his eyes after he'd grabbed America, like him closing his eyes would help the impact with the floor.

But instead he was met with his bed, his feet dangled off the foot of the bed, and his hands still gripped onto America's shirt, who was now straddling him, his hands on either side of the Brit, just above England's shoulders.

It took a second for England to realize what exactly happened.

"Wh-? G-get off of me you git!" England and America both grew red and stared at each other with a look of surprise and embarrassment. England shoved America off him, who landed with an Oof next to him on his back.

"You pulled me down England!" America said to England as he stared at the ceiling.

"Shut the up fuck." England growled, pushing himself further into the pillow, which was eating his head.

Alfred laughed and rolled over onto his side and looked at England, his chin in his hand.

"Hey Iggy, dontcha mean Shut the fuck up?" He teased, with a wide smirk on his face.

England let out a growl.

"Yes that's what I bloody meant. And that's not my name. Don't call me that."

America's smirk grew wider.

"Iggy. Iggy Iggy Iggy Iggy Iggy IGGY IGGY IGGY IG-"

"FUCKING SHUT UP ALFRED."

America stopped and froze at his human name.

"Why did you call me Alfred?"

"Because I knew that it would shut you up. And it did, didn't It?"

"But nobody calls me Alfred….that my-"

"Human name. I know. I raised you didn't I? I should know what your name is."

"But you haven't called me that in….years."

"Why are you making such a big deal of this Alfred?"

"Because you haven't called me that since…before my independence." This earned a wince from England.

"Alfred. It's not a big deal, me calling you by your human name, it IS your name."

"I know….But…you've always called me America. And you stopped calling me Alfred after the Independence."

This earned another wince from England.

"And it seemed like you only called me by my human name when we were close…."

"America. Alfred. Git. You're rambling."

America fell silent, as did England, after raising a caterpillar-like eyebrow at this before closing his eyes.

It was quiet for a while. The only noise was England's soft breathing, it wasn't slow, just soft and quiet.

After a while America looked over at England.

"Hey dude. Art-England Are you awake?"

Silence, then

"Yes."

An awkward silence fell upon them before America spoke again.

"Um…England…."

"You're allowed to call me Arthur you know. It's not like you're not allowed too. It is my name."

America nodded, even though England didn't see because he was still staring at the ceiling.

"Arthur, About what you said earlier."

"…What part?"

"About me leaving you…..what did you mean 'I had failed'? Failed what?"

Another moment of silence.

"Myself. You. I raised you for god's sakes, and you leaving me felt like…I had failed at be a good guardian over you. If you wanted to leave and become independent that bloody badly."

"That's not even close to why I had left."

"Yes it is! Don't lie to me Alfred, I'm not stupid."

"Well if you think that's why I left then you're fucking retarded!" America was yelling now, and sitting up. He looked to his side and down at England, who looked at up him as well.

"Alfred-"

"I'm not done!" America yelled again. America –before England knew what was happening- rolled over and pinned England's hands down into the sheets with his hands, his legs on either side of a very stunned England. He glared down into England's surprise emerald eyes.

After a moment England realized what the hell had just happened and proceeded to go red again. His mouth hung open, his eyebrows nit together in a partly-angry, partly-confused way and his eyes filled with surprise, embarrassment and a little anger. He glared up at America, who glared right back down at him.

"If you think I left because you had failed me or yourself then you are stupid. If anyone failed anyone Arthur. It was me. I failed you England." America himself looked like he could cry.

"How so?" England's face was still burning a very interesting shade of red.

It was kinda fun to look at England/Arthur. His face was as red as one of Romano's tomatoes, and his eyes showed embarrassment and anger. There was something else too. At first it had been surprise, now it was something else. It all distracted him from the fact he was on the verge of tears.

"Because I put you through that. You know, I didn't know I meant that much to you England. If you made that big of a deal of me becoming independent."

"It was a big deal you git!" England's tone was harsh, but he sighed and softened his tone and voice.

"You were mine for so long….and…you left. I wasn't….prepared…..for it."

Another moment of silence.

"Do you know why I left? The real reason?" England shook his head gently, dropping his gaze from America for a second, before looking back up at him.

"Do you want to know the real reason?" England looked at him for a second, before finally nodding gently. This time his gaze didn't drop from America's, America was the one to break it. He closed his eyes and sighed.

America talked in a very quiet voice, but it wasn't like that was a problem.

There wasn't any other noise in the room besides his and America's breathing.

"Because If I hadn't gotten my independence…you would have always have seen me as your colony. Your brother. My guardian. But, because I did leave. It gave me the chance….that you might see me more as someone…you could….well you know like…" His voice trailed off.

"But Alfred I do like yo-"

"Not that type of like Arthur." England's face flushed a even deeper shade of red, with America growing some red as well.

And God.

For someone who was normally really good at reading the atmosphere, why was he being this dense?

Was he just avoiding the subject? Or was he really that dense?

America chose the latter, that he was just avoiding the subject.

"S-so, your saying that you left because….you…"

"That I was in love with you? That I actually wanted a shot at being with you?" America just let the word-vomit go. He just said what needed to be said.

The truth.

The fact was America DID love England, and he was leading that way….and apparently he was getting annoyed at the fact one of them hadn't said it already.

"Yeah…" England's voice was small, almost scared, his eyes had grown big with surprise when America had finally said it, and he'd looked away a second later, unable to hold his gaze anymore.

Even if he hadn't looked away, America dropped the gaze as well. Growing pink and red at his own words. The feeling of relief at finally saying the words he'd always known were true. The words that needed to be said.

"I knew you'd never leave me, you loved me too much. But, not…the kind of love I wanted. God…I'm so selfish." America's voice was small but strong. Truthful, maybe be a word to describe it. But the last three words were spoken in an even quieter voice. With a more scolding tone.

England moved his head, tilting it at a slightly weird angle, so he could look at America, and bring his gaze back to him.

"Nice to know were on the same page."

"What do you mean?"

"I was just thinking….that, Alfred. What if I didn't love you back? What if I might not feel the same way you do to me?"

America's eyes grew wide and he slowly climbed off of England. He sat next to him, his legs crossed and him looking down. His golden hair falling in front of his eyes. Covering them.

"No. I didn't think about that till now."

"And what happens if I don't return your feelings?" England sat up and looked over at America. The bottom of his feet were put together, but he didn't cross them.

America's shoulders spiked up. The red in England's face was disappearing, and the redness in America's was growing. But not out of embarrassment or surprise but out of shame more like.

"I don't know England. I wouldn't know what to do with myself." He paused as he flipped his hair out of his eyes and face, looking up at England's eyes.

"I probably wouldn't be able to be around you anymore, or at least not outside meetings. It would hurt too much."

England smiled before he reached over and pulled America into his lap, just like he would do when America was still just a colony. He put his face into America's golden hair –America was sitting sideways in England's lap- and just sat there. He sat there and held America, with his forehead against the side of America's for a while before he finally broke the silence."

"And what if I do?"

This is the end of the story

OMG.

PAGE BREAK OF DOOM-LOOK UPON IT WITH AMAZMENT-FOR YOU ARE A MERE MORTAL

Authors note of freaking doom.

(Yeah. You DID read that right.)

OK IT'S ABOUT FREAKING TIME.

I wrote this down in my little blue notebook of fanfiction idea and stories (OF DOOM) about the first week of school.

Now we're into the 6th or 7th week of school. (It's Friday :D)

Anyways. So I started to type it when it was about the 3rd week of school, I didn't type it the second BECAUSE THE NUMBER 2 IS EVIL.

No because I was actually starting ANTOHER fanfiction for my OTP. FRANADA!

:D

Well. I'm on the fence. Between USUK and FRANADA being my OTP.

Whatever.

And it's were French-colony Mathieu has a nightmare and wakes up screaming.

Oh dear god. I read that and the first think I thought was a nightmare about something France did to him.

T.o

It's not. It's about SOMEONE taking him.

And killing France. (Hint hint? Nudge nudge? Shove off a cliff shove off a cliff?)

...Poor Canada. D:

Dear god this is getting long.

Ok BACK TO MY FREAKING STORY.

...

So I've been procrastinating typing this and writing my other story and I've been trying to get a name for this story and BLAH BLAH BLAH.

This story was fun to write, much much different than my other fic, IF I CANT HAVE YOU, because:

-France isn't a phyco.

-France isn't out of character and trying to kill EVERYONE IN THE MOTHER F'ING STORY. WITH KNIFES. AND CARVING.

(This doesn't make any sense if you haven't read it yet and I do apologize for the confusion my A/N prescribes. I rant a lot on here. The A/N on If I Can't Have You is almost as long as the real story...Not really but that's what my sister says.)

-ITS FUFFY AND NOT A HORROR FIC!

- It doesn't feel like i'm summoning the devil when i wrote it

- nothing I write here will be awesome so it is blank.

End of differences between my two stories

...

Where I don't have any idea where this authors note is going. This isn't even a A/N anymore. It's a ramble. T.T

(This Is getting really long.)

I wonder how I went from an M rating horror fic for USUK. Into a fluffy, drunk-England USUK fic rating T for language.

I really do wonder.

(Like really really long.)

UM…

This idea came up in my brain of mine that I like so very much when I was playing with my cat, staring out the window (Cool story Rose.. can you shut up now?)

ALSO:

I AM going to write a second chapter, but it WILL NOT be smut.

NO SMUTSIES.

It will be when England wakes up in the morning.

Hehe I'm going to have fun with this one.

I'm also (once this is posted) going to start typing my 2 chapter, 2 shot fic for France and Young!Canada.

AND THERE SHALL BE PIRATE ENGLAND IN THERE AS WELL! :D

I hope to post soon but I don't know if I will…so don't hold me to posting soon with that Franada fic. I also have another idea for a 9/11 fic…..yeah. That one is REALLY REALLY late. I hope to have both fics, all chapters on this and the Franada fic done by Christmas.

Hopefully.

I'm going to leave now because I've wasted and am wasting a very very very long amount of your time that could be spent reading my other fanfic (SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION FTW) or any other USUK/FRANADA FANFICS OF AWESOMESAUCE-NESS.

GOODBYE!