A/N *Guess who I am? Sorry for the long wait. School is a butt. Heck, it's been so long I've worked on this fic that I even forgot which pairing was supposed to be in it. Uh, as apology, I've decided to make this chapter long. Without further ado, let's get started~*

Chapter 12

Arthur could fill the chills go down his spine, and he paused, feeling the tingling raise the hair on the back of his neck. An ill premonition washed over him and he shivered, automatically running his fingers across his arm, shielding against some nonexistent chill. Love is such a harsh mistress. As bathed in Alfred's essence as Arthur was, he had grown paranoid, thinking of his love whenever a premonition of doom washed over him; and so Alfred's image immediately entered into Arthur's thoughts. The Brit cursed; what was he doing here? Why wasn't he with Alfred? What bloody hell was this horrible feeling churning within his gut?

He stepped out of the room, and was immediately almost hurtled over by Alfred. Raising his eyes in surprise, he instinctively reached out a hand to stop the younger country. He felt his fingertips touch the soft down of Alfred's jacket and he withdrew them, as if it had burned them.

"A-America. We've got to talk."

Alfred kept running, his mind set on only being able to earn Arthur's affection. The determination roared in his ears, drowning out the three small words Arthur whispered at his retreating back.

"I love you."

-xxx-

The bellowing of the engines offered him comfort. Automatically, Alfred strapped himself in, the almost tangible feeling of doing something rushing through him, offering him stability and a purpose. The romantic, desperate part of him told him that if could complete this task, Arthur would be his. That they could finally be with each other. The young country could barely suppress the shudders of excitement ripping through his frame.

He settled himself at the wheel, feeling the jet purr beneath him. The same way England would purr when… No. That day would never come if he didn't focus on the task before him. He shoved, feeling the plane lift into the air.

As he sped through the clouds, he closed his eyes, reminiscing. It was just as well that the last person he had seen before he embarked on his heroic mission was Arthur. They had known each for a while now, hadn't they? His mind traveled back to that clear summer day when he had been playing among the reeds by the lake, and how Francis and Arthur had found him. Alfred smiled, still remembering the fleeting expressions of joy, horror, and excitement Arthur had experienced as he had fought for the younger country. It was just as well that he had been able to win over Alfred. They had gone through so much together, had seen each other in their worst and bests times; it was just as well. Suddenly, Alfred could feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, and he dabbed them away impatiently. What was he doing, getting sentimental now, when there was as of yet no cause to be so?

Even as all his heart yearned for Arthur, there was no doubt in the young country's mind that Arthur would never love him if he didn't prove himself first. The three words Arthur had whispered were not only soft, but were repelled by America's own desire to be the hero. And Alfred's tears had not only been in sentiment, but in the pain of what he believed to be unrequited love…

-xxx-

Arthur stood there, fists clenched, cheeks burning. What the hell did he just say?

"I…? love…?" he stammered to himself, staring at his own hand in disbelief.

"Cool down, England."

Arthur spun around, and to his utter horror, Gilbert leaned against a wall, smirking. Upon figuring out that he now had Arthur's attention, his grin widened.

"Who are you confessing to?"

"It… it… it's none of your business!" Arthur growled, and Gilbert held up his hands.

"Relax, I'm too awesome to waste my time picking a fight with you."

"Then what the bloody hell do you...?"

The grin faded off the other country's face, and he glared seriously into Arthur's eyes. The Brit drew back slightly in surprise, "Oi, England… do you like America?"

The nervous laughter that came out of the Arthur's mouth surprised even himself, "Like? I suppose; we've been thrown together so long that…"

"You know that's not what I mean," Gilbert cut him off impatiently, "Love, England, love."

"W-w-what in the world would give you such a blasphemous idea?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. The bright tomato red of Arthur's face already more than told him the answer. He allowed himself a little self-glory in the huge role that he would play in bringing two of his friends together; man, he was awesome.

"If you don't want to tell me the truth, it's fine. Just listen to what I have to say. America is now flying for his home; the leader of the oceans is lying in wait there. I don't think he can take him by himself. And, England, he did all this for…"

"THAT IDIOT!"

Arthur spun around, fuming. So that's why Alfred had been in such a hurry. So that's why Arthur had been feeling so frightened. Why couldn't he have noticed earlier? The Brit cursed both himself and Alfred in one breath. Why did the younger country have to be so rash? This would be the second time Arthur would be stuck saving him.* Then he softened. Perhaps, this time, if he could save Alfred once more, perhaps Alfred would accept him. Perhaps the younger country could see him in some way other than some stogy old man with funny eyebrows. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

Gilbert stared at Arthur's retreating back, his last word unspoken. You. Then, he shook his head. It might make things more interesting. After all, he knew Alfred and Arthur loved each other when they themselves didn't.

"I really am awesome."

*A/N *In the same fanfic! Wao, I need new ideas.

A/N *Don't kill me for this, but it make take this long again (or even longer) for the next update. I'll work as hard as I can to keep up my grades and fanfics. Ganbarimasu- ガんばります！*