USxUK: 'I Love You'

"H-hey, you git."
"Hey, Iggy! What's up?"
"C-come drinking with me tonight."
"Huh? You want me to go out drinking with you?"
"That's what I said, wanker."
"Why?"
"Because I feel like it! Are you coming or not, America?"
"...Yeah, dude, of course."
And that was how the conversation went.

Arthur Kirkland, the personification of England, had had a crush on Alfred F Jones, or America, for the longest time. However, being the socially awkward (a polite way to put it) person that he was, he'd never managed to say it. At one world meeting held in London, he decided to finally do it that night. In order to work up the courage, though, he'd need some liquor. After the meeting, he'd walked up to Alfred and the aforementioned conversation had taken place. Now, Arthur was walking to the bar, about to meet up with his crush, trying to squash his nerves.

I-It's not like he'd laugh in my face or anything. Right? He's not that rude..... bloody hell, this is America we're talking about! He's going to laugh at me, I know it.... Well, I don't have to tell him, right? No, no, I have to. I can't keep going like this, not knowing how he feels about me. I guess if I get drunk enough, I won't care if he laughs. But I'd care tomorrow, and for the rest of my life..... No, stop thinking that way! H-he won't laugh! He won't! But.... what if he does?

Those thoughts continued to run around in circles rapidly. He couldn't make up his mind. By the time he got to the bar, he was three times as nervous as he'd been before. It hit him even harder when he saw Alfred standing in front of the door, waiting. When the American saw him, he flashed a grin to his former ruler.
"Yo, Iggy! You're here! I was getting a little worried."
"Git, why wouldn't I be here? I was the one who asked you to come!"
"Yeah, but you seemed really nervous when you asked me."
Had Alfred actually sensed the mood for once? Was that even possible?
"Idiot, I wasn't nervous. I was cold in that damn room, that's why I was stuttering."
"Oh, okay. I wasn't sure."
Gullible prick. But Arthur loved that about him. And everything else. God, he loved Alfred so much. The telling him thing kept getting to him, though! He decided in a flash to just say it. After a beer.

One beer later, Arthur felt exactly the same. Not confident at all. Not drunk. There was no way he could do this. One more beer. Still no change. Damn it, he had to do this! But it was so hard! A third beer. His brain started fuzzing. Now? No way. He'll laugh at me. I can't say it. I can't. Another beer. More blurring in his head. Just say it. Say it. Come on, say it. A fifth bottle. Alfred was chattering away, still on his second, not nearly as drunk and Arthur was getting. He didn't even notice or care that Arthur continued to be silent, battling himself in what remained of his brain. A sixth beer, and he finally opened his mouth.
"A-America..."
"Huh? What is it?"
Damn it, what was he supposed to say again?
"America, I... Crap.... I f-forgot..."
"Dude, you look totally drunk. How many beers have you had?"
"D-dunno..."
One more, and he completely forgot that he wanted to say anything. But Alfred was still looking at him with a frown.
"I think you've had enough, Iggy. Give me that."
He reached for the eighth bottle, but Arthur held it away from him.
"N-no bloody way... Mine..."
He downed that one almost all at once, and his vision started blurring. He frowned and put the bottle down, trying to concentrate on forming a full sentence. But it was no use. His mind was gone, and the American next to him noticed.
"....Time to go home, England."

Ignoring the protests Arthur was mumbling, the younger nation pulled him away. Arthur's house was only a few blocks away, but he found walking on his own extremely difficult. He stumbled, and Alfred caught him before he fell.
"You need to limit yourself better, Iggy. There's no way you'd be able to get home if I wasn't here."
"Sh-shut up..." Arthur slurred, trying to focus on the ground in front of him. But he stumbled again, and his companion pulled him to his feet again. This time, he slung Arthur's arm around his own shoulder and supported his best friend as they walked down the street. They were both silent for most of the walk, until Arthur remembered the whole purpose of this. He focused his mind as best he could, trying to form coherent sentences.
"A-America?" he managed, his voice slurred so badly the word barely made sense.
"Man, dude, you really got hammered..." Alfred commented, shaking his head. He no longer looked worried, just amused. This was a normal occurrence, after all.
"Amer....ica... j-just.... listen..." Arthur ordered, trying to make himself sound more coherent.
"It's alright, England. We're almost back at your house.... hmm?" his best friend said in response to his command.
Now was his chance. Don't laugh... don't laugh...
"I-I love you...."

There, he said it. He braced himself for the laughing, the scorn, but it never came. There was just silence. Alfred stopped walking and stared at him, shocked.
"...."
"America?" Say something, damn it...
Alfred looked away, resuming his walking.
"...You should get some rest."
"D-didn't you h-hear me? I sh-said I lo... love you, America."
"Mhm, I heard you. You're drunk, England."
"So? I l-love you... do I have to say it ag... again?"
"No, don't. You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying. Come on, we're here..."
Expression set in stone, the American took the key from under the mat and unlocked Arthur's house, pulling the Brit inside with him and then closing the door. Once inside, Arthur stumbled over to the couch and sat down before glaring at Alfred.
"Of c-course I bloody know wh-what I'm saying," he said, trying to make himself sound not as drunk.
"Uh-huh. Go to bed, England."
"N-no. Don't tell me what to do, git," the Englishman snapped. "You don't seem to g-get what I'm saying. I love you, America. I love you. I love you. I-"
"All right, all right, I get it! You love me, now go to bed."
The older nation glared at him, trying to refocus his blurred vision. The American's face was unreadable.
"You don't believe me," Arthur stated.
"Of course I don't! You're drunk. You'll deny ever saying it in the morning."
"I mean it, America!"
"You always say stupid things while you're drunk, England. Give me one reason why I should believe you."
The older blond wracked his fuzzy brain, trying to think of a way to convince him, but it was no use. The alcohol wouldn't let him think.
"I... I..."
"You can't even talk anymore. Seriously, go to bed."
The American turned away and headed for the guest room.
"A-America... please, listen."
He kept going.
"Alfred!"
He stopped.

Slowly, Alfred turned to face his best friend, incredulity on his face.
"You haven't called me that since... that day..."
"I know... Alfred, I... I love you..."
The younger shook his head.
"I don't believe you."
Arthur stood, trying his hardest not to wobble. Carefully, he made his way over to his former colony, stopping only a few inches away from him.
"What can I say to make you believe me? What can I do?"
"Nothing. You're drunk."
Arthur stared at the ground, frustrated. He'd finally said it, but it didn't make any difference. No matter how many times he said it, it changed nothing. What else have I got to lose? he thought. Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed Alfred's collar and pulled him down into a kiss. A muffled yelp of surprise came from the American, but after a moment he responded, closing his eyes and tangling both hands in Arthur's messy blond hair. His lips parted, and a tongue flicked out, gently tapping Arthur's lips. Arthur compliantly opened his mouth and Alfred began a shameless exploration. The kiss was desperate, filled with raw emotion. Arthur's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping his throat. He was in heaven right now, melded to the man he'd loved for so long. The only thing that could go through the shredded remains of his mind was Alfred is kissing me. Oh God, Alfred is actually kissing me. He wanted time to stop, so this moment could continue forever.

However, oxygen was needed to live. When he pulled away a minute later, opening his eyes, both of them were out of breath and panting. Forest-green orbs met sky-blue ones, and they were both silent. After a moment, Arthur realized he was still clutching Alfred's collar, and he slowly let go. Alfred removed his hands as well, staring at his companion. Arthur felt a blush creep onto his face from the intensity of that gaze.
"D-do you believe me now, Alfred?"
"Yeah..."
There was silence again for a moment, before Alfred frowned.
"How long?"
"Years... I don't know how many..."
Shock flickered across the American's face.
"Years? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Arthur looked away in embarrassment.
"I-I... I thought you'd... laugh at me when I told you... that's why I wanted to say it after a few beers, because I though if you laughed, I wouldn't care as much..."
Suddenly, strong arms were wrapped around him, making him blink in surprise.
"I would never laugh at you, Arthur. Besides... why would I, when I'm in love with you too?"
Then Alfred brought their lips together again. This kiss was much sweeter, not as raw and desperate as the other had been. Alfred said he loves me... He was lost in bliss, until another thought brought him back down to reality. And I won't even remember it... When he pulled away, a few tears were slipping down his face. Alfred's intense gaze softened.
"Hey, Arthur, don't cry... What's wrong?"
He gently wiped away the tears with his thumb. Arthur looked away, even more embarrassed than before.
"Nothing, it's really stupid..."
"Tell me anyway."
"It's just... I'm not going to remember this in the morning..."
Alfred's expression registered confusion for a moment, before he smiled.
"That's all?"
"I told you it was stupid. But... I don't want to forget those kisses..."
The smile got wider.
"As long as you don't deny this tomorrow, they won't be the only ones."
Hesitantly, Arthur smiled back. "I finally managed to say it. Why would I take it back?"

He swayed suddenly, and Alfred caught his arm before he toppled. The younger man had an amused expression on his face again.
"If I told you to go to bed again, would you listen to me this time?"
"Th-that might be a good idea... Er... Help me up the stairs?"
"Sure."
Alfred once again slung the older man's arm over his shoulder carefully, before helping him up the stairs and to his bed. He turned away to go back down to the guest room, but Arthur suddenly grabbed the back of his bomber jacket.
"Wait, Alfred..."
"Hmm?" Alfred turned around to face him again, and he felt his face heat up. But he was past his embarrassment, and the courage he'd wanted since that first bottle hadn't gone away yet.
"Would you mind.... staying up here? W-with me?"
His former colony raised one eyebrow.
"If I do that, you'll freak out in the morning."
"Well, yes, but... I don't care."
Alfred was silent for a moment before sighing.
"Man, you're stubborn when you're drunk, Arthur..."
But he complied, getting into bed with Arthur and pulling the covers up. Arthur automatically curled up to him, closing his eyes.
"Good night, Alfred."
Just before he finally sank into unconsciousness, he felt a pair of soft lips on his forehead.

- - - - - - - -

The next morning, a killer headache was the first thing to greet him. With a groan, Arthur opened his eyes and rubbed his poor head. But as the room came into focus, his eyes widened. Alfred was next to him, curled up facing the other way.
"Bloody hell! America?"
Said blond woke with a start and rolled over to face him, confusion on his face. But then his expression cleared, and he blinked lazily.
"Yes?"
"What are you doing in my bed??"
"It's a long story."
He looked so undisturbed by this situation. It was rather unnerving.
"B-but.... We didn't.... do anything last night, did we?"
"Be real, Iggy. Look down at yourself."
He looked down and discovered he was still fully clothed. Relief washed through him. At least he didn't do anything really stupid, then. But still...
"Then would you care to explain what happened?"
"Hmm....It's hard to explain.... what do you remember?"
Arthur blinked. Through the throbbing of his head, he tried to sift through the broken memories. Flashes came to him.
"Uh... we went drinking... I guess we came back here... You weren't nearly as drunk as me... And then..." He wracked his brain. "I-I think... You were walking away, and I called you Alfred, and then you stopped... Then..."
"Yes?"
"And then.... I don't remember."
Alfred had a thoughtful look on his face.
"Do you remember why you took me out drinking last night?"
Confusion swept through the Englishman. Of course he remembered, but how would Alfred know? The only way he'd know was if Arthur... Wait! Did I...
"A-Alfred... did I say it?"
A relieved grin broke across Alfred's features.
"Yes, you did."

Then the American kissed him, and Arthur could swear his heart stopped. His body responded automatically, his fingers twisting themselves into Alfred's hair. The throbbing of his head was completely forgotten. I did it... I can't believe I actually said it... He kissed back enthusiastically, opening his mouth and allowing Alfred to slip his tongue inside. Alfred eventually broke away to grin at him. Slowly, he reached for the Brit's hand, intertwining their fingers. His blue eyes were shining.
"Say it again."
Arthur smiled, looking down at their interlocked hands. He planted a soft kiss on Alfred's cheek before pressing himself closer to his new lover.
"I love you, Alfred."
"I love you too, Arthur."