America had a rather small bedroom. The UN headquarters offered a private room for each member country, giving them a place to stay on the days the meetings stretched out longer than expected (which was unsurprisingly often). America had been given one of the smallest rooms, but he didn't mind. He thought it had character, though that may have been due to the good ol' red-white-and-blue flair he had added. The walls were plastered with posters of fighter planes, motorcycles, and Captain America (obviously). He had a small nightstand crammed in next to his bed, sporting a lamp, a rather pointless alarm clock, and hundreds of plastic green army men. His dresser was decorated similarly, but instead of a lamp and clock radio, a flatscreen TV took up most of the room. His tiny closet showed jackets and suits neatly sorted and hung, and shoes cleanly lined up. It hadn't always been so immaculate, but due to the protests of a certain fussy Brit, he took extra care to keep his clothes tidy. His bathroom showed his true nature, with a streaky mirror and toothpaste splotches in the sink. Contact lenses (rarely used, but he had learned the hard way that playing football with glasses on was a bad idea. Very bad idea.) were soaking in an uncapped case. Soap slivers of every color littered the shower. At least the toilet was clean. Sorta.

Then there was the bed. America loved his bed. It was a giant king-sized, and took up the majority of his room. The cover was a sage green, with faded stains from the times he had spilled food while watching TV in bed. He used to lay over its entire span, spread-eagled and snoring loudly. He didn't have room for that anymore, though. The other half of the bed was now occupied by a certain quick-tempered, thick-eyebrowed, British someone.

And he was a cover stealer. America was woken abruptly by a sudden blast of cold. He turned to see England wrapped tightly in both of their shares of blanket. He smiled and tried to gently pry them back from his love's hands, but they wouldn't budge. Frustrated, he pulled harder, which only succeeded in making England roll over and out of his reach. America improvised. He scooted closer and spooned against his lover, wrapping his arms around him and planting a kiss on his shoulder. As he had hoped, England woke up.

"Alfred?" he mumbled, still half-asleep. "Alfred, what are you doing?"

"Snuggling," America replied casually. "Why? Is it a crime to snuggle at three am?" He nuzzled his face into England's neck.

"It is when you wake me up," England complained blearily, but didn't object to the kisses.

"But Artie, you took my blankets," America pouted. "I was cold."

"Well, here." England shoved some of the cover back at him.

"Dude, you rock." America grinned and tucked his feet back under the blanket.

"Well, whatever," England said, but America could hear a smile in his voice. "Just don't wake me up in the middle of the bloody night anymore."

"Not even to cuddle?"

"No cuddling." Contrary to is words, England nestled against America's torso.

America smiled and kissed is forehead. He felt England's smile against his chest. "You know I love you, right man?"

England groaned. "You're not going to go all mushy on me now, are you?"

America grinned. "Me? Nah, I'm way too cool for that shit." He ran a finger up England's back. "I'm just saying. It's true, you know."

England shook his head. "You're absolutely ridiculous." A pause. "But I love you too," he smirked, "idiot."

America smiled and kissed England's hair again, and was rewarded with another to his neck in response.

They lay in silence for a long while, then America heard England's breathing slow into a soft, steady rhythm. He stroked his lover's shoulder gently, turning to nestle his face in England's hair before drifting off to sleep.

His room may have been small, but America thought it was absolutely the perfect size to fit two.

A/N: Sorry about this! First fic, please don't hate!

A/N Edit: UUUGH I go back and read this now and I'm so out of character and my England SUCKS and bleh DX I should rewrite this. Should I rewrite this? I'm gonna make a poll. Please vote.