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Summary: Everyone's favorite Brit is determined to have things go his way. Surprised? Of course you aren't. What has made the man so stubborn tonight? Your bed.

10:30 PM

"Excuse me, but I will not take your bed, you bloody-minded woman!"

"I'm the host, so just accept it already!"

"As a gentleman, I decline!"

"What gentleman fights with a lady?"

Flushing with indignation, Arthur yelled, "Would you stop being difficult? I will sleep on the couch if it's the last thing I do!" Scowling, he added, "Besides, what gentleman would make a lady sleep on the couch?"

Crossing your arms as you combated his sharp green gaze, you shot back, "A good hostess always makes her guests comfortable!" You glared, frustrated. "If you refuse to take it, neither of us will sleep in it!" Storming into the living room with Arthur begrudgingly following, you yanked out blankets and pillows, shoving them into his arms.

"Thank you," Arthur heatedly growled, setting up his bedding on one of the two couches.

"You are so welcome," you draped blankets on the opposite couch, "you stubborn brat."

"What did you call me, you little twit?" Arthur countered.

Now you were irritated. When you discovered Arthur on your doorstep that night, stranded because of the blizzard, you didn't expect to get locked in a competitive argument. "Good to know that you have bad hearing and poor manners."

Shoulders tightening as he whipped around, Arthur snapped, "You are driving me off my rocker!"

Glowering as you climbed under your blankets, you exclaimed, "Good! Then I can put you in an asylum!" Flicking off the light, you slammed your eyes shut and turned away.

"Goodnight," Arthur prodded, exasperated.

You rolled your eyes. "'Night."

Arthur muttered, "…pillock."

You grimaced. "Stop talking!"

"No, you stop!"


The two of you shot remarks across the couches until sleep claimed both of you.

1:30 AM

Arthur was irritated.

Stirring, he rested the back of his hand on his forehead, staring at the ceiling. Why couldn't you see that he got so worked up because he cared more about you than he should? He turned towards your couch, expression softening.

Alarm mingled with confusion.

You were gone.

Removing his blankets, Arthur pushed himself off the couch and went to investigate. Summoning his bravery, he decided that if he found you, he wanted to talk. After all, it was just the two of you. Disappointment hit him like a ton of bricks, however, when he walked into the hallway and heard the shower running.

"Blast all…" he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

Feeling badly about earlier, he stopped midway in the hallway, looking at your bedroom door. Eyes falling to the floor then lifting with determination, he seized the handle. Carefully pushing open the door, Arthur entered your room. He hurried into the bed and slipped beneath the blankets. Turning onto his opposite side, he bumped into a figure beside him. Arthur blanched. It looked like he wasn't the only person to change his sleeping place.

Startled, you awoke with a scream. "Who's there?"

Horrified, you shoved the intruder, gripping the front of their shirt. Frantically shrieking, the British 'gentleman' cried, "For the love of God, it's me!" You stopped, recognizing his voice.

"Arthur?" Lips falling ajar with surprise, you released him. "When did you…?"

The sound of running thundered down the hall. Before Arthur could leap out of the bed, the door burst open. "Don't worry, the hero has arrived!" The light flashed on. "Whoa! Dude!" Head dripping wet, towel clinging to his hips, Alfred arrived to discover a curious scene. "Holy crap! Arthur, what the heck are you doing bed with her?"

"I just, w-well, I-I didn't—!" Arthur spluttered. "Hold on! W-what are you doing here, you git?"

"Dude, I got stuck and needed somewhere to stay!"

Face-palming, you leaned back. About an hour after falling asleep, you awoke to get another blanket and discovered Alfred tapping on your window. You gave him the couch since he always slept on it, and returned to your bed.

"It's all right Alfred," you managed a laugh, "he just startled me."

"Oh, okay! Ahahaha, I hope you don't mind, but I kinda used your shower!"

"That's all right," you glanced at Arthur. "You can stay, if you want."

Reddening, Arthur exploded, "There's no way in bloody hell that I would ever share a bed with you!" Hurt, you frowned. Arthur tossed a worried glance at you and backpedaled. "N-not that I mean—argh! Oh, forget it!" Flinging away the blankets, he scurried out of the bed, but came to a dead-halt upon hearing familiar laughter.

"Ohonhonhon~! Then I can share a bed with her, non?"

Popping up beside Alfred, Francis smirked lasciviously at you. Francis had been stranded with Alfred earlier. Amused, you giggled when Arthur shouted, "You most certainly will not, Frog!" Seizing the door, he slammed it in the faces of the Frenchman and the American. Fuming, he snapped off the light.

Your heart leapt upon feeling him climb into bed beside you. Sitting up and biting your lip, you turned to him and murmured, "Hey, Arthur? About earlier, I'm s—" Gentle fingers obtained your chin. Your mouth fell open, exhales trembling against it. "A-Arthur?" Soft lips pressed nervously and desirously into yours. Excitement pulsing, you reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair, kissing him passionately.

Arthur coughed, suddenly tearing away. "Gah, I-I'm sorry."

Hands faltering, you squinted in the darkness before reaching for him. Finding his shoulders, you moved your arms around his neck. "I forgive you," you smiled, cuddling up to him.

Blushing and muttering, Arthur groaned, "You really don't mind if I stay here until morning? If you want me to leave, I-I can go back to the—" Lifting yourself up and silencing his mouth with yours, you kissed him until he sank into the bed. Arthur returned your affections, holding you close. Lying on top of him, you pulled away to rest your head on his chest.

"Francis would molest you, besides," you snuggled into him, "I like how warm you are…"

For once, Arthur had nothing to say.

Extended Ending

"How did he get her?" Francis whined, pouting as Alfred tossed him an extra pillow.

"Pfft, man," Alfred laughed, "those two are perfect for each other!"

"What do you mean?" Francis raised a sulky eyebrow.

Folding his arms behind his head, Alfred explained, "Well, she's the only one with enough patience for him and he's the only one willing to put up with her competitiveness."

"He's not the only one…"

"Huh? You say something, dude?"