Alfred woke with a start out a dreamless sleep. He had forgotten to set an alarm to wake him the night before, and instantly wondered if he was late for the conference this morning. The sun was on its way up by now, spilling golden rays of light through the panes of glass, vaguely lighting the dim room. Alfred grabbed his phone to quickly check the time, and sighed in relief when the digits read that it was only 6:15 am in neon green numbers. He had until 8:30 to be in his seat and ready to go for the wrap-up review meetings before all the other nations went home, and prepare for the complete world meeting in 6 months.

His moment of relief was interrupted and Alfred jumped, hearing a door slam loudly and knew what that had to mean. Arthur was awake, he remembered everything, and he was pissed.

"Bloody hell! Fucking put your damn shoes by the door you git!." Arthur swore loudly, pushing himself away from the wall he must have fallen into after tripping over Alfred's poorly discarded boots. It hadn't been a door slamming then, Alfred decided.

"You're..you're awake..." He sat up quickly, pulling the blanket up to his chest, widened eyes searching Arthur face.

"No shit. And I've got the worst headache too. You should know better than to leave your shoes right in the hallway."

Arthur came and sat down hard on the couch and Alfred's feet. "I'm going to quit. I quit drinking."

"That's what you always say."

"I mean it this time." Arthur said, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "My sodding head. Can you get me a bottle of water from the kitchen?" He thought for a moment. "And a gun. Just shoot me now."

"Don't think there's a gun, but I'll get the water." Alfred said, climbing carefully out of his blanket, making sure he didn't so much as brush against England as he walked past. He opened the refrigerator and peered inside. There wasn't much in there, just a nearly empty half-gallon of milk, a white unmarked Styrofoam take-out container, and three bottles of water. He grabbed one and when he came back he found Arthur now lying on his side on the couch. "Here. It's cold."

"Thanks, Alfred."

He didn't say anything.

Arthur didn't seem slightly upset at him. He hadn't come to shake him out of bed, didn't shout, curse, or cry. There was no lecture or outbursts. England didn't remember. Alfred wasn't in trouble. He was even thanking him right now. He got away with. Yet somehow, this made everything even worse. No one should get away with something so horrible. Some great hero he turned out to be. Alfred opened his mouth, wanting to say something. He couldn't keep this on his conscious but this meant admitting his mistakes out loud, telling Arthur what he had done to him, and ruining everything him and Arthur had managed to mend between them. How could he come out and say what he did? What could he say? 'So last night when you were really wasted, I took advantage of you, and let you jerk me off. But I'm not a dick, because I returned the favor. Really sorry about that by the way. Want to go get McDonald's on the way to the meeting?' Instead, he let out a long sigh.

"Sorry about this. Making you leave early to take me back. Probably said a lot of stupid stuff last night."
Alfred winced, knowing Arthur probably mistook his sigh for one of annoyance. "No, it's...nothing you have to apologize for."

"Yes it is. I knew I shouldn't have let Ivan talk me into a round of Vodka Russian Roulette. Now I've got this stupid headache and I can't remember half the night."

I'd say you remember less than half. "You don't?"

Arthur shook his head. "I remember everything up until leaving the bar, and then things get hazy. I remember getting to the door, and you being unable to find my wallet...then...I think-"

"It's okay. Don't force it." Alfred said a little too quickly, but Arthur didn't seem to notice.

Arthur reached up, searching for the water blindly. And when his fingers brushed Alfred's, the nation jumped and dropped it. It hit the ground with a somewhat disturbing crack, and rolled under the couch.

"Uh, sorry." He said and went after it, dropping to his knees in pursuit, embarrassed that a fleeting touch affected him so much. If he got so flustered from any kind of contact in the future, Arthur was going to start thinking something was up, and probably start asking dangerous questions. And that would not be good. He didn't think he could make a believable lie, and telling the truth was out of the question.

I'm damned either way. Alfred thought to himself grimly, looking under the couch. He stopped the as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

He reached out, having to stretch almost painfully far before his fingers brushed against the cool surface. He reached farther, and grabbed it successfully. He sat up, finally having reached the elusive bottle and stopped short. Having dropped to his knees in his search, he had inadvertently crutched closer to the nation; and now they were nearly face to face. Arthur's eyes were closed, head resting on his arm, and he was completely oblivious. Alfred swallowed hard. He looked so unaware, so venerable.

Sitting where he was, so close to Arthur, he could make out the red hickey he had left on the other man's neck, just shyly peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. His face was still flushed, and his hair was a mess, no doubt from all the restless rolling he often did in his sleep.

In a moment of weakness, Alfred leaned forward, and grazed those lips with his. They weren't as warm as they were the night before, but they still made him feel like melting.

It took only a second later before he realized what he had just done. He lurched back, throwing the water bottle into the air, and was crawling backwards with his hands, face now completely beat red and a look of utter horror on his face. Oh god, that was the worst second-most stupidest mistake of his life, the first having gotten into this mess in the first place. He had been lucky Arthur had failed to remember everything that had happened last night. And then, when he was in the clear, he'd fucked everything up, and kissed him.

Arthur's eyes shot open, and he sat him quickly. He blinked twice, and was now staring at him, looking more than a little confused. "Ah...Alfred? What..."

"Ah-I'm sorry! I didn't...I gotta go!" He stumbled to his feet. He ran towards the door and threw it open. He fled the apartment; he didn't even bother to close the door behind him.

~oooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000000000o ooooooooooooooooooooo~

Arthur stared, looking blankly at the door that was left wide open. What was that about? Arthur reached up slowly, and touched his index finger to his lips. They felt no different to the touch, and he drew them away and looked down at his fingertips, oddly expecting them to give him some prove of what had just happened. Alfred had just kissed him and then fled in terror. That was unexpected. "Wha...What was that about?" He asked himself, as he forced himself to stand.

His head was still pounding, making thoughts hard to draw together, but he needed to force. There was a meeting that day, and Arthur refused to be present if he did not appear presentable. The last thing he wanted was to appear as if he didn't care about the meeting. If he looked presentable, maybe he would feel that way. He didn't want to embarrass his countries name or worse, the Queens, by looking terribly hungover.

After shutting the hotel door he went to the bathroom to take a much needed shower, taking the water with him, which had landed not far away, . He drank half the bottle in one go before he started removing clothing, still thinking about what had happened that morning.

That was more than a little odd. Alfred had never done anything like that, at least, not since he was a young boy. And even then, they had never kissed on the mouth before. But oddly enough, he was sure that Alfred's lips...felt familiar.

"Arthur."

He stumbled, tripping over a discarded towel.

Alfred moving against him. Fingers running through his hair. A hot mouth on his neck.

Arthur's hands claimed over his mouth, his eyes widening slowly. His body felt the sparks of little memories of Alfred's touches along his skin. In the mirror, Arthur could make out the red mark on his neck that had been made by Alfred's mouth. He sat down hard on the toilet to sort this out and strained to remember.

He couldn't recall much of it. Time seemed to leap back and forth on him. Alfred's hot breath on his face. Alfred helped him lean against the door. Alfred's tongue brushing against his. Alfred kissing him suddenly. Alfred's weight against him. He just couldn't seem to remember everything in the right order, and many of the pieces were still missing.

Arthur shook his head, trying to gain some clarity. Okay, quick recap. He had gone to the bar with some of the other nations after the meeting yesterday. He had gotten really drunk and Alfred took him back to his room. Alfred kissed him, he kissed back and...

Arthur swallowed and finished getting undressed and got in the shower, hesitantly touching the mark on his throat. Alfred and him had ended up in Arthur's bed and got...intimate. True, they hadn't taken off their clothes and 'did the deed' officially, but...

Arthur groaned and turned on the water, ruffling his hair under the water in frustration. "This is all messed up." He said to the shower certain. With a heavy sigh, he washed his hair mindlessly, still finishing his recap.

He must have fallen asleep first; because Alfred had moved to the couch and slept there instead of staying with him, and Arthur didn't blame him for it.

Alfred kissed me, again. This had triggered the memories from the previous night. This was not to say Arthur would not have remembered had Alfred not have kissed him that morning. On other occasions, Arthur had forgotten things that had happened during a wild night, and remembered later on. It would only have been a matter of time before he remembered this too. "This is all messed up..." He said again, and sighed. How awkward this was going to be when he had to see the American again.

Arthur knew he had been drunk last night, but that was still not a justification for his actions. Alfred had tried to get him to stop, but Arthur had not listened to him. When one was that far off the deep end and something felt that good, it was hard to even hear the word 'no.' And it was clear that Alfred didn't want them to go that far yesterday.

But wait. Alfred had kissed him that morning. There was no way he was still drunk, so why...

Arthur shook his head and regretted it, his head pounding harder, and a dizzy spell nearly sent him to the ground. It was too hard to think. "Later...I'll deal with it later." He told himself, and he started washing his hair. For now, this issue would have to be put on hold, at least until after the meeting today.

~oooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000000000o ooooooooooooooooooooo~

"Matt!" Alfred banged on the Canadian's hotel door harshly. "Open up I need to talk to you!" After leaving Arthur's room, he had run, knowing he had to get out of there fast. He didn't know where he was going to go, but before he knew it, he was in front of his brother's hotel room, seven flights up and six blocks away. "Matthew!"

The door opened and Alfred nearly fell flat on his face, having been leaning helplessly against it. The Canadian was dressed for the meeting already, or mostly so. His was wearing a brown suit coat over a clean pressed white shirt, his slacks wear on a neutral tan hue. His maroon tie hung around his neck only half tied, having been abandoned in favor of answering the American's interruption. "What's going on? You look awful America. What happened to you?"

"...I...It's all messed up." Alfred said breathing hard, having run all the way here at full speed, he was now spent of energy, and was forced to lean forward, his hands on his slightly bent knees for support.

"Messed up? Did something happen?"

Alfred pushed his way into Matthew's hotel room, feeling the need to pace the floors, searching for words. The Canadian let him, silently closing the door and waited patiently.

Meanwhile, Alfred walked the length of the living and crossed back, eyes following the floor as he went. "...I don't know what to...Last night.."

"Last night?" Matthew blinked and pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, seemingly confused. "This happened after you took Arthur back to the hotel?"

Alfred only nodded again.

"Did he start whining or crying again about the revolution?"

Alfred shook his head. "No..."

"Did he try and start a fight with you?"

"No...He..."

"Did he...do something?"

It was something I did. "I..."

"He didn't...well...I mean to say...that is...did he kiss you?"

Alfred stopped in his tracks and looked up, mouth open and blushing hard. He didn't want to give his brother the wrong idea. He had been the one who kissed Arthur first. But he couldn't seem to admit it, his pride wouldn't allow it.
Matthew seemed to take his silence for a yes, for he nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Well, he did have a lot to drink last night. I'm sure he didn't mean to..."

That's what I'm afraid of.

"You know Arthur. He always acts strange when he's drunk. I've taken him home lots of times before myself, and he...well..." Canada fidgeted, getting embarrassed. "He's kissed me before too."

"He's...what?"

"I few times I've taken him back to his room; he's been so drunk he's kissed me."

Alfred dropped down to sit on the edge of the couch, feeling his heart sink. He's...kissed other people. I'm not... He
swallowed a gulp of air, trying not to let the tears form. I'm not anything special then, am I...Alfred felt himself begin to tremble at the thought. He might have kissed anyone. That really hurt. Arthur may have very well have kissed anyone who took him home. It might not have mattered who it was. Alfred found himself thinking back on all the times
Arthur needed help getting back to his hotel room, and tried desperately trying to remember who had taken him there. Matthew had taken him a few times, and France on occasion. That was a disturbing thought. And there was that one time Japan helped him when they had all been in Tokyo. Had Arthur kissed any of them before too? Did it not matter who he was with?

"It's alright Alfred." Matthew said, coming to sit next to him. He lightly touched his arm, trying to comfort him without really knowing the truth, or how Alfred was really feeling. "Arthur probably won't remember, or if he does, he'll apologize." I don't want an apology… "As long as you don't make a big deal about it, you two can forget about it."

I don't want to forget...

"I don't know what to do, Matt. What if he...what if he hates me?"

"Why would he hate you? I know you guys have your differences, and Arthur can still cry over the Revolutionary War when he's drinking, but you guys are still friends. He is still there for you, whether you need it or not. He thinks about your well being a lot." Matt patted Alfred on the back, trying to give some reassurance. "Believe me. Arthur's not going to let a stupid thing like this ruin your friendship. You've got to let it go or it might tear you apart. I mean, he's always calling me by your name, especially when he drinks. And I don't let that bother me, to much." He mumbled the last part more to himself it seemed, but moved on. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."

"But... I have to face him at the meeting today. What if...What if he doesn't talk to me?"

"Give him some space then." Matthew pointed out. "It's a little embarrassing to admit, especially for Arthur. You know how Arthur is. He's often too proud, and doesn't like loosing control, and doesn't know how to handle it when he does. If he is mad at you, it's only misplaced anger. He's only really mad at himself, and he'd be taking out on you for convenience and he'll get over it. It might not be tomorrow, but Arthur and you can get past this. I promise."

Alfred wasn't sure if he felt better, the situation hadn't really changed, but he had stopped shaking now. Matthew had made him feel a little less horrible, and gave him a little hope for him an Arthur to work something out.

"Maybe...maybe your right. Thanks."

"What are brothers for?" Matthew smiled, and Alfred couldn't help but return it, if only slightly. "We have to get going if were going to be on time for the meeting, Alfred. Do you have your suit?"

"...Fuck." Alfred swore. "I left it at Arthur's.."

"Come on," Matthew patted him on the back. "You can borrow something of mine."

~oooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000000000o ooooooooooooooooooooo~

Alfred sat in his seat, pulling at the blue suit coat he had borrowed from Matthew since he had left his at Arthur's hotel room, wishing he had skipped today. Arthur wasn't there yet, and he wasn't sure what he would do if he brought up what happened that morning, or worse, that night. He might tell everyone, and then everyone would know what a horrible non-hero he was. Maybe he could just leave now before he got there. He could just sneak out now before it started. Or maybe, Arthur wouldn't show up. But no sooner had the thought come to him, did he notice the nation enter the meeting room. Alfred flinched, and instantly tried to look busy, looking over the notes from the previous day, and the notes he's printed off for that morning. He heard Arthur's footsteps getting closer, but he remained still, and kept scanning the page, unable to recall a single word he read. Arthur sat done silently next to him, and began folding and filing papers.

After a moment of silence, Alfred dared to peak over his notes to peer at the Island of his affection, who happened to be frowning down at something written on his notes, and began editing them. He had taken a shower, and looked less hung-over than he had this morning. His clothes were neat, and his hair was combed. The only hint that gave it away were the tired circles under his eyes. He was still looking down, chewing on the end of his pen, a thing he often did without realizing it.

Alfred's face flushed, remembering those teeth on his neck and he shifted in his seat. How was he going to be able to concentrate on the meeting with Arthur sitting so close to him? His heart was hammering away in his chest.

"Alright everyone," Germany said, starting off the meeting in a very German way: to the point, and all about business.

"We've got a lot of things to cover, and this is our last meeting. So please keep silent when others are speaking. When it's your turn, please speak clearly. And please try to keep the conversation relative to the information at hand, America." Ludwig said, giving him a knowing look.

Alfred smiled sheepishly and many of the others laughed in response.

"I kinda like some of the weird idea's Alfred talks about." Italy said, wearing his usually blissfully-unaware-smile.

"It's just like an American to go off topic." France said.

While this was going on, Alfred dared to glance at England, but he didn't even acknowledge him. Instead, he was speaking to Japan, who happened to be seated next to him. There heads were tilled together, and their voices were hushed. He sighed heavily, and tried to read his notes again. This was going to be the longest meeting of his life.

~oooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000000000o ooooooooooooooooooooo~

Alfred stepped into the elevator, feeling quite deflated and defeated. Arthur hadn't said a single word to him during the meeting. He hadn't even looked at him. Even when Alfred had spoken up, saying his normal ridiculous ideas, Arthur had remained silent. He knew. There was no way he could deny it. Arthur knew what happened between them that night. Alfred should have considered himself lucky Arthur didn't tell the whole conference. He clearly had decided not to mention it in front of everyone; at least for now. It would have been a disaster if the other countries knew what had happened. But it still hurt, not talking to his friend at all, if they even were still friends after that.

Alfred's shoulders sank. What if Arthur didn't talk to him again? What if he wouldn't talk to him tomorrow, or the next day, or a decade after that? His heart hurt, thinking that this whole thing had ended what little him and England had left. We had so little to lose, and I managed to fuck it up and lose everything. The elevator opened and he jumped, seeing England standing before him, holding his notes in one arm, and in the other he held a desecrate plastic bag. He was equally surprised, but hesitated only a moment before stepping aboard.

Alfred stood stalk still, to nervous to even breathe. Until Arthur let of a breath "...Hey..."

"Hi." Well, at least he said something.

It was awkwardly quiet for nearly a full minute when Arthur finally spoke. "So...the meetings are done for this month."

"...Yeah."

"And it will be a full six month's before the next meeting..."

Alfred only nodded, not know what else he could say.

"The next one will be held in London...In case you didn't read your notes."

"Oh...Really?"

"Yeah. I'm not surprised you didn't read them." He had; thirty seven and a half times.

"Well...that should be..." Alfred didn't even know how to end his statement. This conversation was meaningless. It was mindless chit-chat, both of them trying to avoid talking about the one thing that mattered.

"So what's in the bag?" Alfred asked.

"Oh, well...when you...uh...left this morning, you left your clothes. So I...had them dry cleaned while we were at the meeting and had them dropped off here." He said, and handed them over, careful to keep there fingers from brushing during the exchange.

They were quiet again, both of them awkwardly listening to the rumble of the elevator, before Arthur made a frustrated noise and scratched his head.

"Okay look." His voice changed, this time sounding all business. "...about last night...I was..." He stopped and frowned, probably not liking his choice of wording. "I...we were..." He breathed out again, and started over. "I remember what happened. And I'm..."

Please don't. Don't say it.

"I'm sorry."

"Your...sorry?" That was a little unexpected.

"Well, yeah. I...I was really drunk. And you kept asking me to stop. I just...I don't know. I couldn't seem to...well...It...it wont happen again."

"It's not...it's not your fault. I could have...fought you off more."

"Well you were drinking last night too. It was...a mistake on both our parts."

"A mistake." Alfred's voice hitched, and his throat clenched. "The..."

Arthur perked up.

"The reason you did it...have you...with anyone else?" Alfred asked, feeling his face heat up, having asked such a personal question. He was practically asked England to tell him about his sex life. "N...never mind." He said frantically, waving both hands to try and brush the question away.

"Honestly, no. Matthew is the only other person I've...What I mean is I haven't-! I mean I've only kissed him...once or twice. And that was only because I thought-" Arthur suddenly cut himself off and his face colored. "I was drinking...a lot. I've...I really need to stop that, don't It...It only causes problems."

Alfred wanted to say something. His vocal cords were willing and his mouth was open, but his mind could not conjure up anything to return. After an awkward silence, the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

"Anyways..."Arthur broke the silence. "I guess I'll see you in six month's." The Brit said and stepped off the elevator, and Alfred could only watch as he walked out on him.

"...?"

Something suddenly clicked in Alfred's brain. What Matthew had said earlier finally came together.

"I few times I've taken him back to his room; he's been so drunk he's kissed me."

"He always calls me by your name, especially when he drinks."

Alfred's eyes widened and he swore everything stopped. Arthur has always mistaken Matthew for him, whether drinking or not. Matthew said that Arthur called him Alfred when he was drinking. And Arthur had kissed him when he was drinking. Arthur had been calling Matthew 'Alfred' when he kissed him. Arthur thought he was kissing Alfred when he was drunk.

"Have...Did you.." Alfred tried, but his voice wasn't working. Arthur was leaving. He was going to leave and forget about what had happened, or try to. If he let Arthur go now, he might never know the truth.

I can't let it end like this! Alfred reached out and grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled him back into the elevator quickly before the doors shut, locking them in together.

"Alfred? What are you-"

Alfred hit the up button and then ran a finger down every floor button, all 25 flights. He had 25 flights to tell Arthur how he felt, to ask him what he meant to him. "I talked to Matthew this morning."

"You what?! Did you-"

"I didn't tell him what happened. Not really." Alfred shrank under a judging look from Arthur. "He thinks you kissed me. I didn't admit I started it...But he told me you had...kissed him before. But...the reason I'm bringing it up is...uh...well I was wondering...um..d-did you...think he was me?" He asked shyly, face burning with heat and color.

"Wha-did I what!?" Arthur's eyes widened and he took a step back, his back ended up against the button wall, hitting a few more floors they had already visited in the process.

"He told me you call him by my name sometimes, even when your drinking. And well...Did you think he was me when
you kissed him?"

"Alfred I-I don't know what your-" Alfred, getting fed up with this, slammed his hands on both sides of Arthur's head, causing him to flinch.

"England," He said harshly, his heart aching and pounding against his rib cage. "Did you kiss Canada because you thought he was me?!"

"Ah..." Arthur looked so trapped, eyes darting around, looking for some means of escape. When he found there was no easy exit, he went to plan B. His posture responded, attempting to look offended and started to reply sharply before Alfred countered.

"Don't lie." He said, knowing the Island nation well enough.

Arthur paused, mouth still open before deflating. "I..." he hung his head, looking down at the carpet at his feet. "You two look so much alike..."

This was Arthur's way of admitting it with really saying so, but Alfred wanted to hear those words for himself. "So it's true."

"Y...Yeah. I thought...I was sure he was you."

"So you...wanted to kiss me?" He asked, his voice sounded hopeful.

Arthur's eyes shifted, looking up at him though his lashes and Alfred almost lost it. How could he look so attractive when he put on such a pathetic face like that? 'Huh?" He asked, clearly playing dumb.

"Do not insult my intelligence. If you kissed him thinking it was me, and you haven't done that with anyone else, then why? Why only me?" He asked him, leaning closer, which caused Arthur to jump slightly. "Why not France? Or Japan?"

"You git." He looked away, attempting to tilt himself away, embarrassed. "It's because there not you."

Alfred held his breath. They weren't him. Arthur wouldn't kiss another nation on purpose or drunk because they weren't him. "Do you...have...feelings for me?" Alfred asked, and nearly felt like dying from the embarrassment of having to ask that to his fellow nation.

"Feelings? Do you mean-"

"Do you like me, England?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You said it. Last night."

"I was drunk!"

"So you lied to me?"

"Ah..." Arthur turned away again; face a bright shade of red. Alfred noticed the small mouth shaped red mark he had left him with and decided to gamble. He leaned in, and kissed it. "Ah!" Arthur gasped, his hands moved to push Alfred back. "What are you-"

"I like you." Alfred said, not letting Arthur push him away. Not this time. "I mean it. I meant what I said last night. I like you, England."

Arthur gasped again, and his legs seem to suddenly fail and if he hadn't made a swift move of grabbing of his shoulders, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland would have probably ended up on his knees in front of him. The two of them stood there, just breathing together. Their breaths mingled, there faces so teasingly close. They stared into each others eyes, the elevator continued to open and close, allowing either one to leave, but neither even noticed.

"Your...your kidding me.."

"I'm not. I like you. I...I have for...a really long time."

"America." Arthur spoke, his voice squeezed, and he cleared his throat. "America...I..."

"England please." Alfred pleaded. "Tell me the truth, for once."

England hesitated, but nodded solomly. "I've liked you for a very long time, America. And not just in the fatherly figure way." He admitted. "When you grew up, I…Well I realized you weren't a child anymore. I started feeling….different… about our relationship. But I tried to continue playing the part of your brother. I became over zealous in my act, and I suppose my behavior drove you to seek independence. I thought you must have hated me, as many of the colonies did."

Alfred wanted to argue, to tell Arthur that it wasn't only his will, but the will of his people that helped drive him to independence. That in acting out and becoming a real nation, and severing the brotherly ties between them, they might become something more. But he found he couldn't speak. All these years he had thought that Arthur hated him for breaking away from him.

"I never hated you England."

"And I never hated you America." Arthur smiled, but it was a sad one. "But…Regardless of my feelings...What happened was a mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"It means, that though we both have mutual feelings for each other, I think it is best that we remain as we always
have."

"But…But why?" Alfred asked him. "I mean, sure, yesterday was probably a bad way to bring us together, but what's stopping us now? England. I've liked you for so long. Even..." His voice broke and he paused. It was hard bringing up the past; it was a sore spot in both of their lives. "Even before I became independent. During the civil war, and through both world wars, I've been head over heals for you. And when I finally do something and...Now you're telling me...That just because I picked a moment when you were drunk to make a move, that means there can never be an us?"

"America, its not just because of last night. It's more than that."

"Like what?"

"We are so far apart."

"I've got planes that can cross it in hours. It's not that far."

"its not just an ocean that separates us." England said. "Ideas, lifestyles, culture, beliefs and language. Alfred...We are so different. Have you really never seen it?"

It was in that moment that Alfred saw the distance between. England was within his grasp; physically, he was there. But on a different level, he was so far away. The distance between them was vast, farther than the ocean that separated their shores. Was Arthur to far away to hear him?

Arthur tried to pull away, and Alfred's hand didn't resist. He watched as Arthur slipped through his fingertips, and could only stand there and watch as he departed. He was really leaving. And Alfred couldn't seem to bring himself to chase after him again.

He stepped off the elevator, and watched as Arthur disappeared, out of the hotel and out of reach, forever.

"Are you really letting him go?"

"Japan?" Alfred felt himself flush, not knowing the other nation had been there. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." Kiku said, and pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps closer. Though he approached him, he was looking in the direction England had gone. "So, you're giving up on him?"

"...I tried. I told him everything...He...I don't think I can change his mind."

"So that's it then? I thought Americans were the best at making movies with happy endings."

"This isn't a movie."

"No. Your right. This is the real world. And in this world, the only happy endings are the ones you create for yourself." Kiku said.

"Japan!" Italy's voiced carried down the hallway. Alfred and Kiku both turned to see him waved excitedly, Germany standing next to him. "Me and Germany are going to go have lunch before we head to that airport! Want to join us?"
Kiku smiled and called back. "Sure. It is a long flight home." He took two steps before looking back at Alfred. "It's rush hour right now, so I'm sure all the taxi's are delayed. You can probably still catch him, if you want you happy ending." He smiled knowingly, before he turned back and joined his friends.

Alfred watched them only briefly, before to turned towards the front doors and gave chase. The automatic doors opened to slowly, and clipped his shoulder, but he ignored it.

"England!" He shouted, searching for his former caretaker. He found him, standing before an open taxi door, nearly ready to step in.

"America?" He seemed surprised to see him so suddenly.

Alfred raced to stop him, and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"America, I told you-"

"Don't talk." Alfred interrupted." Just listen."

Arthur looked as if he might protest, but let a lengthy breath and turned to face him.

Alfred took a deep breath before exhaling smoothly. His was his only chance. He had to make Arthur see.

"I understand why you're feeling this way.. I know you don't think it could work. Because were different, because were so far apart, because we got off on a bad start. We are different nations with different cultures and different ideals. And I'm kicking myself for not coming to you in a different way. Maybe if I had just left when I said I should have last night, maybe if I had done something different, you wouldn't be feeling like this. Even if we never gave it a shot, I'm still going to be in love you with. Please, England, Arthur, I can't just let you go home knowing this is the end before anything even began. We may be nations, and we have to think about what's best for our own countries. But why does that mean we can't be a little selfish and want something for ourselves? Why can't we be happy? I'll try. I'll try to reach out across this distance, but I can't do it by myself."

"The self-proclaimed hero admits he can't do everything?"

"I can do anything, if I know you're with me. Arthur. Please tell me. Tell me you don't want to even try."
Arthur hesitated, seemingly unsure of himself.

"Tell me that there's hope, for us."

England still stood there silently, and Alfred half-worried his words and fallen on deaf ears. "America..."

"England." His head tilted, looking his eyes. They held a new color; an odd swirling of vibrant teal and an earthy evergreen. "Tell me you think there's hope."

England moved, but not away this time. Instead he drew closer, tentatively leaning against America.
"Why can't you give up? Why can't you just let me go home in peace?" The Island nation asked, face pressed into Alfred's neck.

"Because I'm a hero." He joked. "I can't give up unless I know. i need to know if this is going somewhere good."
Arthur pulled back and tilted his head up, and the two nations looked at one another, eyes meeting in one since, eyes looking back across an ocean of distance horizon in another. The distance was great, and many things stood defiantly in there way. But they were seeing each other. Their eyes met. Carefully, they both reached out.

"I love you. Give this a try. Give me some hope." America said, nearly whispering.

England leaned forward and placed a kiss on America's lips. Alfred's heart flickered and he kissed him back slowly. It was brief, and not overflowing with passion or promises. But it warned him all the same. "I...I'll call you." America blinked. "When I get home; I'll call you. It will be a while, a few hours probably. My plane has to stop in Iceland to refuel. But I'll call you."

"You'll call; the second you get home? Even before you unpack?"

Arthur rolled his eyes but smiled. And it was the most beautifully genuine thing America had ever seen, "Before I even unpack."

"You'll think about it?" Alfred asked, tightening his grip on Arthur's hand, afraid if he let go this time, it really would be the end. "You'll...give me a shot?"

"It may be long and one done in the dark, but..." "I think both of us deserve to know if were doomed to spend the rest of our lives together." He voice was dripping with sarcasm, but that didn't fool Alfred. England's eyes were shinning with that new color; the color of hope. "We'll talk about...us. But," England's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to be going to bed shortly afterwards. I am still feeling hung-over from last night; I won't let you keep me up all night again to hear your stupid chatter."

Alfred's heart leapt, despite the insult, and he through his arms up and gave a loud whoop, causing a few passerby's to stare. And when Arthur rolled his eyes, Alfred threw his arms around him and did an excited spin.

"Alright, alright! Put me down! My plane will leave without me if I'm not at the airport in forty minutes."
America put him down, but gave him one last squeeze before he let go, and watched him slip away again, but this time he wasn't afraid. England wasn't running away from him now.

"Don't forget to call me!" Alfred shouted, and Arthur answered with a open palm from the window.
Alfred watched as the taxi pulled away, joining the other cars on the busy streets, and didn't move until he lost sight of it. When at last it disappeared from sight, he turned back towards the hotel and couldn't help from letting out another WHOOOOP, receiving a few more concerned looks from the strangers passing by, before he headed back to his room to collect his things, and head for home himself.

With his spirits high, he whistled while he packed and danced his way back down to the lobby. In the taxi, he couldn't help but smile, and tipped the driver twice more than the cab-fair cost. It was really happening. Arthur and him were really going to give love a try. Though it had started out on rough and tormenting seas, Alfred could feel the calming swell of a new wave. The water churned, but they were warm and welcoming.

Though Arthur had expressed concerns, Alfred new in his heart that this was right. And though they were both shy and inexperienced, and not everything would come easy, Alfred new that they could have a fairytale ending, and that their story could end with a happily ever after...

~oooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000000000o ooooooooooooooooooooo~

Closing Notes: Finally done. Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing it. I hope you will consider reading more of my work in the future..