By: Liete

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.

A/N: From the Hetalia kink meme.

The antique grandfather clock downstairs had never sounded so loud before. England stared, eyes wide open, at the ceiling, each tick-tock, tick-tock more like the sound of drums right in his ear. Even if he pulled a pillow over his head, the sound was still there. Loud and keeping him from the blessed arms of sleep. But then the clock probably wouldn't sound so thunderous if his mind wasn't already in a tizzy of restlessness and jumbled thoughts that he couldn't organize. The time piece was just magnified to make easing his mind impossible.

Beside him, America was deep in sleep, his breathing slow and even, one arm draped lightly around England. Normally America was the last to fall asleep and consequently the last to awake, but now, for once, the roles were reversed. England wouldn't admit it, but he liked to watch America sleep. It was the only time he could admire his lover without scrutiny from anyone, including said lover. Then he could trace the fine lines around America's face (that the younger nation would vehemently deny the existence of if they were mentioned), listen to his heartbeat without being called on his sentimentality, and marvel at every bit of America that made him such a beautiful nation. He very lightly dragged his fingers across America's cheek, then leaned forward to press a light kiss to his lips, a rare, unguarded display of affection that he'd be too stubborn to try when America was awake and willing to tease.

"I love you, git," he murmured and smiled slightly when America let out a sigh.

It wouldn't do to continue tossing and turning in bed and risk waking up America, England resolved. He'd just have to find a way to calm his mind enough that he'd be able to sleep and ignore that confounded clock. Very carefully, he eased his way out of America's embrace, pausing to wait for a reaction from the sleeping nation, and sighing in relief when there was none. He flipped the covers off himself, sitting up and moving to get off the bed so he could go make himself a cup of tea, when an arm snaked around him. England glanced over his shoulder to see America stirring and blinking blearily.

"Where're you going?" his groggy voice mumbled after he yawned.

"To make myself a cup of tea. I can't sleep," England calmly replied, cursing in his mind that he'd managed to wake America up anyway, and delicately pried America's arm off of him.

America merely tightened his hold and inched forward to nuzzle England's thigh. He yawned again and then said in a clearer voice, "guess I'm waking up, too."

"Don't be daft. Go back to sleep," England chided and swatted at America who was starting to press kisses up his back. America pulled back and tried to tug England with him. The older nation stayed firmly in place.

"Mm. Can't sleep without you here," America said with a tired, but somehow still radiant grin.

England blushed despite himself and looked away. "Is that so? Then what do you do when we're apart?"

"Miss you," America said too easily, and England's blush deepened. America sat up as well and draped himself around England's shoulders. "Why can't you sleep?"

England sighed, but leaned back against America's chest. "That clock. It's like the worst storm is pounding in my ears with each second."

"What clock?" America asked, brow furrowing.

Of course America wouldn't hear it. He wasn't the one with insomnia. "Never mind. Kindly release me now so I may make myself that cup of tea."

America shook his head and lay backwards, taking England with him despite the older nation's attempt to wriggle his way out of America's arms. America started peppering light kisses across his shoulder blades and murmured, "what you need is some TLC."

England's blush deepened further and he twisted his shoulders away from America's lips. "I'm not…up for another round tonight, America."

"'s not what I mean," America chuckled and gently turned England over so they were facing each other, then pulled the nation against him and started stroking his back. "Relax. Let the hero save his damsel in distress."

"Call me a damsel again and I'll crush your vital regions," he fumed, earning only a quiet laugh in reply, but he did as he was told and relaxed in America's arms.

In that position, he could press his ear to America's chest and listen to his heart beating, the same way he liked to do when America was asleep and wasn't aware he was doing it. Right then, he knew America wouldn't tease him over it, not when America was occupied with trying to soothe him in other ways. Slightly calloused fingers were running up and down his back, lips were pressing over and over against his forehead, murmuring gentle nothings all the while. It was working, England's restless mind finally focusing on only one thing. America. America and how it felt to be that close to him. He let the steady, rhythmic sound of his lover's heartbeat drown out the booming of the clock and he threw an arm around America as he pressed closer.

Before America's ministrations finally lulled him to sleep, England was vaguely aware of lips pressing against his, and a voice whispering softly, "I love you. Good night."