Re: 'Looking For Tony' - An America Canada England Story

[StarQBAlfredJones]

Mathidla? Really, Alfred? That was a girl name. How did his idiot brother mix that up with Matthew? Mathew growled a little bit and stood up, heading over to the tent. He was going to just go to sleep and ignore the other two until they remembered his damn name.

"Alfred, just get in the stupid tent, alright?" Matthew grumbled and shoved his brother closer to the tent. He didn't care how fat his brother was right now, he just wanted to sleep and be warm. Unfortunately, Alfred didn't seem to be able to do anything quietly and he sighed as he watched his brother jump into the tent. He winced when he heard his brother land on Arthur and he opened the tent flap, sighing.

"Arthur is not a bed, Al. Get off of him."

[Lord Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur felt his bones break and shatter as the hulking mammoth of a nation flopped on him. Well, okay, so perhaps the bones breaking and shattering was a bit of hyperbole. However, having a fully grown man throw himself on you was not a very pleasant or painless experience. Arthur was definitely going to be sore in the morning, and he was not happy about that. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you Alfred?! You could have killed me with your fat!" England snapped angrily. Why would he be happy about the twit leaping onto him?

Then again... America was closer to Arthur than he had been in quite a long time. The sexually frustrated nation took this opportunity to cop a feel of the younger nation's bum. If he got caught... well then he'd just write it off as a ploy to get the idiot off of him. "I can't breathe! Get off, and sleep somewhere else! I was here first!" So what if Arthur wanted to be sandwiched between the North American brothers?

"Thank you Mathias! Honestly, America, you should listen to your brother more often, and for fuck's sake, get off of me!"

[King of Spades]

America gasped. He was offended, hurt and suddenly self-conscious. "You...you really think I'm fat?" His hand shot down to his belly out of reflex. They were living in hard times and he had this habit of shoving his face with more greasy food whenever he was stressed. So he might have gained a few that month. America gulped and carefully turned his head, intently hoping that his Canadian brother hadn't heard anything. But judging from his expression, he had.

Great.
America scrambled off of England's body and crawled over to the far side to sulk. Plan Alfred-sandwiched-between-two-warm-bodies foiled again. "I will just...lie here and dream of...nice toys." Nukes, missiles, plushies, etc.

He heard Canada joining them and zipping the tent. There was silence, none of them were in the mood for many words, and soon his eyes felt heavy and they began to droop.

He hadn't had slept for too long. He knew, because the fire outside was still burning and it made large shadows flicker about menacingly. America tried to hide himself further into his sleeping bag, hoping for sleep to take over once again. He groaned in frustration. Slowly, he turned his body to face the middle and he could vaguely see the silhouette of England who was asleep.

And over Arthur's shoulder he could see Matthew's chest rising and falling in contented sleep. Lucky bastards. Well at least the sight of them granted him new security.

It's been so long since the last time they had slept together like this. Ages in fact. Alfred couldn't help the small smile forming on his lips. Hesitantly, he let his fingers touch Arthur's slightly cold cheeks -carefully, as not to wake him up. Those eyebrows looked even more threatening in the shadows and America had a hard time trying to constrain his giggles.

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