Frustration, Chapter 1 - USUK

America was angry.
No, that was an understatement. He was seething, just about ready to rip someone's head off. And by someone, he meant Scotland. That damned ginger, laying his hands so casually all over England. His England.

Large hands balled into fists as he peered through the slightly open door, watching the two smaller nations interact. The Scottish man's hand was on England's thigh, he noticed, frown only deepening at the realization the blonde wasn't even doing anything to stop him. A ragged fingernail picked at the white painted doorframe angrily as their faces moved closer and closer together, England blushing as the elder smirked.

No.

That isn't allowed.

That blush belongs to America.

He gritted his teeth, pushing a display stand full of china to the floor as he stormed down the corridor, hiding himself well enough so that neither of the Europeans would notice him. Arthur emerged first, looking up and down the hall worriedly. Alistair followed him, scratching his head nonchalantly as the British man stood still, seemingly shocked.

Maybe he'd figured it out. There really was no knowing for the taller blonde, watching as Arthur seemed to ask the redhead to let him be alone. He'd nodded and patted the shorter man's head condescendingly, quickly leaving Arthur alone in the spacious hallway. He was still looking for the culprit, emerald eyes darting from side to side worriedly as he crouched down to pick up the shattered porcelain. The blonde wasn't as weak as he looked, Alfred noticed the way he easily lifted the heavy mahogany frame now devoid of its glass panels and delicate contents.

Arthur then returned to the shards on the floor, picking up the largest pieces with his bare hands as the American watched with bated breath. He was waiting for England to cut himself, so he'd run off to get a bandage and then the taller blonde would be able to put everything right again. He'd only wanted to scare the British man away from Alistair, not to actually hurt him...

A shard pierced the pale skin after what felt like forever and Arthur stood up, mumbling curses under his breath as he quickly walked past. As soon as he was out of view, Alfred emerged from the half open door, using his gloved hands to safely pick up the last of the white and clear fragments. He briefly considered putting them into the Scottish man's food but decided against it as footsteps sounded out from the distance. He darted into England's study, the only room he'd had time to hide himself in, and waited behind the door after quickly throwing away the sharp glass.

The footsteps grew closer and closer until they came to an abrupt stop. The American pressed an ear to the wall, smiling in childish delight as he heard England gasp.

"I-is anybody there?" Came the hesitant whisper. The way the British man's voice trembled only served to make America want him even more right now. He was on a power high, that was for sure. The way he could control the older man's emotions made him feel more dominant than anything, more than even being the world's current superpower. He wanted to make Arthur worried, he wanted to make him suffer and get angry, violent and desperate and then he wanted to make sure Arthur knew exactly who he would always belong to.

Alfred watched as the blonde entered the room, still looking slightly on edge. He sat at his desk quietly, those beautiful eyes sliding shut as he let his head droop backwards, exposing just enough of his neck to push the American over the edge.

"Arthur." He hissed, moving towards the table. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"

The British man's head snapped back faster than he'd thought possible. At first he looked alarmed, but quickly his face softened into a nonchalant glare. "Alfred? I could ask you the same question! I assume it was you who broke my cabinet and all."

"It was your own fault." He hissed back, hands slamming into the thick wood hard enough to make the papers resting on top stir. "You know how much I hate it when you're with him!"

Arthur stood up, tutting lightly. "He's my brother, America. You gave that up..." He paused, pressing a finger to his lips, "No... you absolutely obliterated that the day you left. Don't you dare act like this was my fault."

America's voice dropped an octave, chillingly cold. "Brothers shouldn't be acting like that. He was all over you." England noticed the sudden change, using one hand to pull at a sleeve uncomfortably. "You weren't even resisting!" He lashed out, grabbing the smaller blonde by the collar and lifting him over the desk, forcing England to look him in the eyes.

For a moment neither moved, each just glaring at the other venomously as the scene played out. One had to yield, but both were determined not to. The American moved first, knotting a hand in England's hair and forcefully yanking it backwards. Alfred had never been the patient type, after all.

"You git, that hurts!" Arthur tried to pull away from him in vain, only making the pain worse. "Let go of me right now!" He swung a fist towards Alfred, hitting him square in the jaw. It hurt, sure, but it wasn't enough to faze the American who at this moment seemed intent on breaking his neck. He gasped for air, and Alfred pressed forwards. The kiss was one sided at first, the American's lips moving against Arthur's own until finally he gave in and started to return it.

It had always been like this, ever since the first time he'd told Arthur his feelings. He'd go and get too close to someone, be it France, Scotland, Japan, anyone, and then Alfred would have to reclaim him just like this.

His grip on England's hair loosened and he broke the kiss, travelling down to leave marks on his neck. The elder protested slightly but realized that there was no way he was going to be able to stop America this time.

"Clear off the desk." The tanned man had said it so nonchalantly, as if it had been the most normal thing to ask. England shot him a questioning glance. "Either you clear it off neatly now, or I push everything off in about three seconds."

He nodded, quickly moving to put all of the papers into a pile and setting them and the small lamp onto the floor. America picked up the half-empty teacup and saucer and carelessly dropped them onto the dark coloured rug.

"Those are Wedgewood, you twat!" England tried to pull away, but America's hands were back around his waist, trapping him yet again. He went to speak again and those tanned arms silenced him, lifting him straight onto the table.

"I don't care." The honey blonde pushed him down, hands firmly planted over each side of his face. "I'll get you a new one if it's broken."

"They've stopped making them! It'd cost a for-" England started, but America silenced him with another kiss. He was starting to give in; the younger man noticed the way that this time he didn't hesitate in kissing back. It was desperate, Alfred grasping onto any part of the smaller man he could reach, trying to claim him again.

"No matter what he is to you..." He growled, ending the kiss as abruptly as it had started. "Never let anyone but me touch you like that."

Arthur looked away, cheeks burning bright pink. He couldn't bring himself to look the American in the eyes, choosing instead to fix them on the wall directly past his left shoulder. "And why would I let youtouch me like that?" He was teasing. It was obvious.

"Look here," Alfred used a hand to force the smaller blonde's face towards him. "You belong to me."

Arthur looked without hesitation. There was a line past which he knew not to push Alfred, or the consequences would be bad. No, worse than bad. Terrible.

"You know I do." He stared, unable to look away as Alfred's face softened into a smile.

"I'm still not letting you off, babe." The American smirked.

"I'm aware of that. And don't call me babe, Alfred."