A/N: Now here's where you start to read something slightly more comprehendable.
I have no clue why Korea would be a police officer in the United States. No clue at all.
Alfred, you should've known better.
America chided to himself nervously in his thoughts as he struggled to keep his eyes on the road before him instead of…
Really, he should've known better then to think that a horny England was just going to sit there in the backseat like an innocent angel; no, rather, the British nation climbed into the shotgun seat.
Nothing to worry about; he'd probably just felt so lonely all by himself--
America gasped and clutched the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white as he tried to gain control of himself.
--Of course there was something to worry about!
But America only realized this after England had crept up to him, leaning closely to the American nation's face, and after he teased England fondly with, "Whaddya gonna do, kiss me?" and what he got in return was a big smug smirk on the Briton's part, well, that's when he knew he was in trouble.
"A-Arthur, if we get caug-HT," his voice broke and he dared to close his eyes for a second in bliss," I'm just letting you know"—a pant—"it'sallyourfault."
With a light pop, England's mouth left the American's member, but he still lingered close to it as he chuckled and smirked once more as he peered up at America.
"When is it not?" The slightly husky reply.
America groaned.
And to make matters worse, England leaned over and gave a long lick from base to head.
"Arthur." A whimper.
With something of a bored expression, England continued his languid lapping as he lounged on the seats --mostly on the shotgun seat, a little of his upper-body upon America's seat—and America was quite surprised that he hadn't veered off the road yet.
However…
A siren.
They both froze up.
America gulped and looked out the side-view mirror.
Right behind them.
America slowly pulled over and England scrambled up away from the American nation's lap and over to his own seat, face a bright crimson as America hurried to put everything back in its place and zipped up his jeans while the officer made his way toward them.
America, not daring to look at the officer, pressed the button for the window to scroll down.
"Do you know why I pulled you over, aru?"
Aru?
Bewildered and incredibly relived America turned to the officer, "China?"
"Ah! America, aru!" The Chinese nation, surprised.
"Why the bloody hell are you a cop, China?" England asked, leaning over America with his hands planted on the edge of the American's seat.
"Uhm. Well, aru, Korea usually does this…"
America and England just stared at China.
"Korea?" They both dead-panned.
"Yes, aru. I've none the idea as of why he actually does this, but Korea had to go on an outing with Hong Kong and he asked for me to cover for him, aru," China explained.
…
…
"Ahem, uh… Anyways, aru, America, you were going roughly twenty miles over the speed limit"—
China missed the glance America gave at England and the British nation's bright red face when America did so –
"…But I'll just give you a warning this time. Don't do it again, aru."
America nodded quickly.
Gosh, what a push-over.
"America, England," China nodded to the both of them dismissively and turned on his heel to retire back to -- Korea's? -- cop car.
Halfway there, however, the loudspeaker came on from the interior of the police car;
"Yao~."
China freezes up upon hearing an amplified husky Russian voice and a small giggle emitting from the loudspeaker of the car.
America and England, who still haven't drove away yet, are extremely amused.
"Ah, Yao-- I desperately need you, officer~!"
China bolts to the car as fast as he can to try and tame Russia;
"Aiyah! Ivan! Stop it, aru!"
America chuckles softly before pulling back into the street and continues on the way to his house.
A majority of the drive is made in silence, and when America stops in front of a red light, he takes the time to linger a bit at England.
England is silent, refusing to even looking at him, eyes trained to the road on the right through the glass of the window.
America gives a worried look before turning back to the now green light and continues their way home.
--
America sighs as they pull into the driveway. England is probably both mortified and completely angry with him, he reasons.
"Look, Iggy, I'm sorr-- MPH!"
America is cut short as England attacks his mouth, tongue plunging in and sweeping at the other's. It was a bit unpleasant for America at first what with England crashing against his mouth oh so quickly, but it got better.
Much better.
England is groping all over America as they are kissing, hands brushing against America's t-shirt-clad chest, going down, down--
"Oh," a moan is elicited from England's former colony, but is quickly drowned out by England's incessant kisses put upon his soft lips.
"I didn't... want to be a distraction again," England explains his aloof behaviour from before, although America never asked.
"Mm-- Are… we gonna do it in the car?" America asks breathlessly, breaking away a kiss. England's breathing is laboured as well when he responds; "…Whatever you wish."
As England palms him through his jeans, America almost decides to go with the car, but--
"B-bedroom," America says clumsily, England kissing him once more as he does so.
"But that's too far," England states, lips trailing to America's neck.
"Horny old man," America replies, smirking, "it's not that far away, it's not gonna kill you to wait one minute more for sex."
"Says you," England breathes, grounding his hips down onto America's.
"A-ah…" America begins, the clothed friction getting to him, "C-couch then."
England moans. "Fine, but hurry."
America is quick to respond, unlocking the car doors by button as England grudgingly lets off of him. England scrambles out so fast, America is momentarily bewildered before England begins the flurry of kisses once more.
The eventually made it to the living room-- thank goodness the door was already unlocked--, England's dress-shirt half unbuttoned and untucked from his trousers, America's beloved bomber jacket shed to lay on an armchair and they began to easy their way toward the couch, so close to it they finally fall--
"MAPLE!"
--Onto Canada who was sitting on the couch at the time.
The tangled mass known as America and England quickly retreat to the other end of the furniture.
Canada knows, Canada knows…! America and England's thoughts reel as England grapples onto America, shirt half-off, tie forgotten, against America, who is shirtless and only clad in jeans.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry!!!" Canada apologizes profusely, face matching the same colour of his hoodie, "I had no idea that you two-- I-I-I-- Uh, Um-- I came here to visit America and ask him of something I had no idea that you two were planning to be romantically involved this afternoon it's just I thought it was really important and Alfred is my brother and-and I knew that if I called you'd probably didn't know my number or who I was again so I dropped by and I am SO sorry--"
America and England just stare, still mortified that Canada saw something like that of them, and barely listen to what Canada is rambling about. They eventually dispel from their stupor and England hushedly propositions with America.
"Can't we just screw on Henry?" He whispers, Canada unaware with his continued apology.
"What? No, he's my brother! I think." America replies, before thinking for a bit. "…Isn't his name Micheal?"
"--I always knew you and Arthur had a thing going on but I never thought I'd walk into it--"
"I've no idea, but I DO know that I need you right. Now."
America gulps before looking at his brother, Condo, who was still abusing run-on sentences, and tries to think of someway he can get England quickly and how to politely usher Komodo out.
"Hey, um, Martin…?"