Alfred dislodges himself from the being underneath him and collapses onto the messy sheets next to his British lover. Sapphires and emeralds admire each other curiously as Alfred and Arthur lie panting for what seems like hours, both wet as a result of their passionate sex.

Alfred reaches out to the nightstand and grabs something Arthur can't identify in the dim light. He feels the American's hand join his own under the sheets. Arthur squeezes the soft palm tightly.

The taller blond smiles, closing his eyes. Arthur watches this, noticing the younger nation's beautifully soft features that hold no trace of Alfred's usual childishness.

"Arthur, I need to ask you something." Alfred's voice is barely audible above the sound of their heavy breathing.

Arthur feels something cold and round slip around his finger. His eyes widen in realization.

"Arthur Kirkland…will you marry me?"

The Brit's throat feels dry as he feels his heart lurch forward. He thinks of all the ways he could respond to this. Squeezing his eyes shut, he sees each and every memory of the two of them – both good and bad. He remembers the day they first met, in the beautiful grassland so long ago, the wars the fought against each other, the wars they fought alongside each other, the first time they had spent the night together… he brushes each one out of thought after a few fleeting moments. They all seem so trivial before the powerful words whose echo still lingers in the air.

After all, he knows there is only one way he can respond to the nation – no – the man who holds a special place in each of these memories. "Yes, Alfred." He looks finally to those huge blue eyes that have caused him so much pain and so much joy, and that he has loved since he had first seen them.

Arthur hears the other's sigh of relief. "I love you, Arthur," he says.

Arthur plays with the piece of metal around this finger that is such a strange new sensation to him. With this hand, he reaches behind his lover's head, pulling him closer for a kiss.

And it is indeed beautiful.

After recovering from the initial shock that always accompanies the sweet gesture, Alfred runs his hands along Arthur's back in indistinguishable patterns, bringing their bodies closer than it was ever thought possible. His legs are intertwined with the others', and even their toes are caressing. Arthur has his arms around Alfred's strong neck. His fingers pull gently at the ends of his hair. Even when they become too tired to continue they stay like this – embracing with no space for even the air to pass between them, feeling their love pulse through their blood to steady the rhythm of their hearts thumping in sync against each other.

And this is how they fall asleep in the dimly lit bedroom, their tangled bodies seeming to be a single messy heap.

One.

End