It began with a kiss that warmed him thoroughly, sending the electric currents of desire and utter need through his entire body.

Soft and sweet, with the snow falling all around them. Arthur tasted of tea and spice, and Christmas. It delighted Alfred to the core, just having him there. Kissing him brought the warmth from head to toe, in that now familiar tingling, as his entire body told him 'You're alive, and he really loves you'.

"C'mon. We should go warm up." Alfred suggested, his face against Arthur's smooth cheek. It wasn't necessarily a lewd suggestion, but America could think of a few activities he wouldn't object to that would get them warmer. And he was feeling like a live wire, tingling with energy.

"I am warm." Arthur told him, squeezing his hand as England led him up the stairs to his condo.

"Warmer?" Alfred thought of spice and tea, and tasting soft skin, and the freedom to touch, and hold-.

"Perhaps." England was giving him that look again from beneath sooty lashes, heavy brow arched with something that might be suggestive. Okay, so that was a blatant 'Come hither' look. "Are you still cold?"

"A little." Alfred fumbled with his key, hands a bit stiff from the cold- why had he forgotten his gloves? Damn it-

"Well, once we get inside, we can do something about your hands, love." Arthur's hand steadied his own, and the key slid into the lock. "I imagine they're freezing without gloves. Did you leave them at the theatre?"

"Probably." The door was opened through their team effort, and they tumbled inside the contrasting atmosphere. Arthur immediately began removing Alfred's outdoor clothing, before seeing to his own, but not without a protesting "Arthur..."

"Hush," Arthur gave him a glare that lacked sincerity, and contained more concern, "Go warm your hands."

"Cold hands, warm heart?" Alfred said playfully, and ducked as the tip of Arthur's scarf was swung at him accurately.

"Idiot." A smirk out of Arthur negated any insult, instead giving the word a fond tone, as Alfred rubbed his hands together near the furnace's register. "Cold hands are no substitute for ice cubes."

"Sounds kinky." Alfred couldn't help but let the words escape, while he tried not to imagine Arthur trailing an ice cube on his chest, and circling his- or the other way around- And failed.

"You are not that innocent yourself," Arthur's voice was in his ear, and arms circling around his middle. "Not with the number of pornographic movies produced in your country."

"I..." Alfred said, almost squirming as hands began to move in a fashion that England knew perfectly well would produce- and it did. He couldn't stop the giggle that escaped his throat as Arthur suddenly started tickling him. "Stoppit-"

Girlish giggling aside, he really didn't mind the contact. It was just another sign of changes. They were free of those inhibitions that had kept them at arms length from each other for so long. Alfred squirmed around to face Arthur, trying to halfheartedly pin the other's arms down so that he could catch his breath. And it worked, as he found himself staring into smiling green eyes- smiling. Not quite the same as it had been so long ago- neither of them would ever find that pure newness again, too much lay between them for that simple untouched love. Things had changed, but still, it was all right. Some of those changes had led to this strange new world where neither of them had to hold back.

One of Alfred's hands found its way to Arthur's cheek, caressing the warmth as the older man blushed faintly. It was all right to touch. Alfred didn't have to hesitate, and hide how he felt behind foolish words and gestures that made that arm's length seem like miles. After so many years of pretending he didn't care, trying to hide how much he wanted to do just this—hold and be held within the circle of arms that brought him so much comfort, and joy.

And love.

As much as he pretended not to notice things, (had tried not to for so long, because he'd truly believed Arthur had hated him, and the hope that he did not had hurt far too much to bear-) there was no way that he could escape this new reality, where the glances that they shared weren't full of uncertainty, but instead gave an assurance that he'd never realized he'd needed before.

The hesitation that Alfred had always noticed when Arthur was asked to work on something with him was gone, and the continuous scowling had vanished- not that Arthur didn't have moments when Alfred just wanted to stop and kiss the frown away- but the little pessimistic voice that he'd never really known how to shoo away from England had let up (he had always known that the voice existed, and believed for so long that trying too hard would only make it worse for Arthur), and the gloomy moods had been fewer and further between.

They still argued- but there was no vicious desire to push the other away now- but only when it was important. Arthur gave him things to think about, and Alfred could now see points that he never had been able to before when they were tinged with what he had thought was subtle loathing, and desire to pull him down. It never had been anything more than his own paranoia.

And now they could talk for hours without screaming- but more often, Alfred would just sit near Arthur, not necessarily touching, and be comfortable with the silence that he would have once filled with nervous chatter (he didn't know how to ease the little ache of separation any other way than to distract himself, and others from the nervousness that he thought was obvious and made him look weak-)

"What are you thinking about, love?" Arthur's arms were circling around him now, not tickling, not groping- just holding.

"You." Alfred said, resting his forehead against his lover's. "How could I think of anything else right now?"

And then Alfred kissed him.

He didn't care if this led to more caresses, more touches- Alfred kind of hoped that maybe it would, because he wanted to be as close to Arthur as he could, while they had the opportunity. Even if it didn't, the touch of lips, the taste of tea and spice- the simple pleasure of knowing that the one he loved was seeing how much he cared-

"I love you," Alfred breathed as they both broke away for air, enjoying the way that Arthur's face flooded with color to the tips of his ears. "I love you so much-"

"And I love you," The words were spoken into his neck, as Arthur pressed his warm face against Alfred's skin. "I love you more than I can bear sometimes, and it's hard to convince myself sometimes that this is real-"

"It's real." Alfred rubbed his cheek against the blond hair. "And I'll say it as often as I need to... Arthur-"

There was another meeting of their lips, tangling, tasting- and the heat was rising through Alfred, until he couldn't stand it anymore.

"So..." he started breathlessly, as they paused, panting and clinging to one another like there was no way for them to stand separately. Perhaps they couldn't- "You told your boss you were spending Christmas in America..."

He didn't have to complete the sentence, because Arthur's eyes widened slightly, as he gave a sudden snort of laughter and a halfhearted tap to the back of Alfred's head.

"Only you." Arthur's laughter died away to a heated smile, and a nod.

They walked together to the bedroom.