Laughter.

                                            ~Property of Mystery.~

    Author's Note: This story is dedicated to the wonderful Sideshow-Cellophane, who supports my work, and brings a smile to my face. Have a wonderful birthday, love.

    "CANNON BALL!"
    "Wh-ACK!" Arthur yelped in surprise as he felt something crash land on him, nearly breaking a few of his ribs in the process. He looked up when he heard obnoxious laughter, and let out a frustrated sigh. He should have known. "Alfred, you bloody git, get off," he grumbled, voice slightly muffled by his pillow.
    Alfred continued to cackle, and fixed his glasses. "Chill out, dude! I was just waking you up!" He said, easygoing as ever.
    "I don't care about that, just get off!" Arthur yelled, glaring up at the energetic American.
    Alfred's face fell, cheerful grin now turning into a pout. "Jeez, why do you have to be so grumpy all the time, bro?" He asked, crossing his arms.
    "Get. Off." Arthur said through clenched teeth, his patience wearing thin.
    Finally, with a sigh, Alfred reluctantly rolled off the Brit.
    Arthur let out a sigh of his own, but it was in relief. It was hard to breath with Alfred on top of him! Slowly, the Brit pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing as some slight pain shot through him. He rubbed his tender side, and then rubbed his eyes. "Goodness gracious Alfred, I've told you not to- WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE ALL OF YOU DOING IN MY BED?!" He screamed.
    Scattered across Arthur's Kingsized bed were nine bodies. Not dead bodies, mind you. That would be gruesome. Feliciano was snuggling into Ludwig, who had his arms wrapped around the smaller Italian. They were both still asleep. On Ludwig's other side was Gilbert, still asleep as well with his legs splayed. Lying uncomfortably close to Arthur was Francis, his arms wrapped around a sleeping Matthew. Kiku, Yao, and Ivan were lying at the foot of the bed, and Alfred was sitting by the head of the bed, still pouting. Only Alfred and Arthur were awake.
    Quickly, Arthur turned to Alfred. "Why are all of you here?!" He whisper-yelled.
    Alfred glanced up, and then perked up when he heard Arthur's question. "I thought we could have a party, dude!" He explained.
    "But why here?! It's not my birthday or anything special like that!" Arthur continued, feeling his frustration mounting.
    "I know, but it's somebody else's birthday!" Alfred explained, winking at the Reader.
    "Who are you winking- never mind." Arthur sighed, and rubbed his temples. This was going to be a very long day. "What time is it?" He tilted his head to look at the nightstand. 6:30 AM. "It is way too bloody early!" He yelled as quietly as he could.
    "What? No it's not!" Alfred protested.
    "Yes it is!" Arthur insisted. He then turned around, and grabbed one of his extra pillows. "Alright everybody, get up and get out!" He yelled, smacking Francis over the head with it.
    A chorus of groans filled the room.
    "Aw, come on Iggy!" Alfred whined. "Don't act like such an old man!"
    Arthur ignored him, lying down once more, and pulling the covers over his head.
    Alfred sighed, and crawled over to the Brit. "Aaaaaaarty!" He whined, lightly punching Arthur on the shoulder. "Come on, the party hasn't even started yet, dude!"
    Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, and clenched the blankets tightly in his fists. Maybe if he just stayed like this, they would all just go away...
    A few minutes later, Alfred huffed. "Fine," he said, crossing his arms. "Be that way," he grumbled as he crawled away.
    Arthur stayed stone still and silent for a few more minutes. Nothing happened. Even then, he still didn't dare to take a peek. He just wanted to take advantage of one of the American's rare moments of sense, and go back to sleep. Unfortunately for him...
    WHUMP!
    "ACK!" Arthur yelped as he felt something crash land on him for the second time that morning. It didn't take long for the obnoxious laughter to fill the room again. "Alfred!" Arthur yelled. "Get off!" It was already beginning to get a little harder for the Brit to breath.
    "PYSCH! Oh, I totally got you, dude!" Alfred said between laughs, slapping his knee, and ignoring Arthur's demand.
    "Oh for Pete's sake Alfred, just get off!" Arthur groaned, feeling a migraine beginning to form.
    Slowly, Alfred's cackling died down, until it had stopped completely. With an irritated sigh, he complied. "Fine!"
    Arthur relaxed as he felt the heavy weight being lifted of his body. His side was even more sore than before, but he didn't have the energy to care at the moment. Sadly, his moment of peace did not last long...
    YANK!
    Arthur yelped for the third time that morning as the blankets were harshly ripped off of him. He squinted, eyes not prepared for the sudden bright light. Groaning, he lifted his arms up to shield them... Only to have his wrists grabbed. He let out a noise of surprise as his arms were lifted above his head, and quickly sat on. He didn't even have to wait for his eyes to adjust to the light to know who it was. "ALFRED!"
    Said man looked down at the Brit, a large grin on his face, and waved. "What's up, dude?"
    "GET OFF!" Arthur shouted, narrowing his eyes at Alfred.
    "Hm..." Alfred rubbed his chin with a hand, pretending to think for a moment. "Nah, I don't think I will!" He grinned cockily.
    Arthur let out an irritated sigh, and tried to move his arms. He was unsuccessful, as Alfred's body kept them pinned down. "Why are you doing this?!" He asked exasperatedly.
    "Because you're acting so grumpy!" Alfred said bluntly.
    "What?! No I'm not!" Arthur protested.
    "Um, dude, yes you are!" Alfred argued.
    "No I'm not!"
    "Yes you are!"
    "No I'm not!"
    "Yes you are!"
    "Just-" Arthur sighed, and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. "Just get off. Please."
    "I'll do it if you smile!" Alfred said.
    "What?" Arthur furrowed his brow, opening his eyes again.
    "I'll get off of you if you smile!" Alfred said again.
    "What?! No! Why should I have to do anything for you to get off of me?!" Arthur exclaimed. He then huffed, and glared up at Alfred. "I won't do it. You just need to listen, and get off of me."
    "In that case," Alfred began, pausing for a moment. "EVERYONE GET IGGY!" And with that, his fingers dug into Arthur's armpits.
    "Wh- AHAHA! NAHAHAA!" Arthur shrieked with laughter, lips spreading into a giant, openmouthed grin. He should've saw this one coming from a mile away. But alas, he had been too tired to notice anything too fishy about Alfred's move. And suddenly, he could feel fingers everywhere. Scratching at his belly, prodding at his ribs, some were even on his neck, absolutely everywhere. And it was driving him crazy.
    "You really are adorable, Angleterre, absolutely adorable," Francis cooed from Arthur's right side. He was wiggling the fingers of one hand in the crook of an armpit, and was kneading one side of the ribs with the other. He was rather enjoying this. He and Arthur were frenemies after all, and he was still ticked off about getting hit across the head with a pillow earlier.
    "Heh... Yeah, you really are kind of cute when you're like this," Matthew commented, his soft voice nearly drowned out by Arthur's laughter and the other various noises. He was gently wiggling his fingers against the Brit's neck, going pretty lightly, as he knew how bad it felt.
    Arthur couldn't respond to Matthew or Francis, or anybody else who was taunting him, as he was laughing too hard. He tried to buck, but somebody had sat on his legs. And with both his arms and legs pinned down, it was pretty much impossible. All he could do was guffaw and deal with the heinous sensations.
    "Aren't you just the sweetest little thing?"
    "Gitchie-gitchie-goo!"
    "Aw, look! He's blushing!"
    "Tickle tickle!"
    It was nothing short of torturous. Arthur swore he was going to die of either laughter or embarrassment. He let out a loud, undignified screech when somebody (he didn't see who) blew a raspberry right over his belly button. And they just wouldn't stop.
    "Hey, this isn't-a so bad after all!" Feliciano exclaimed happily, wiggling his fingers along the arch of Arthur's sole, holding it steady by the ankle with his other hand. "He actually sounds-a pretty cute!"
    Arthur let out a half howl, half squeal when somebody (he assumed Feliciano, but it could've been anyone really) began playing with his toes. Tears of forced mirth slipped from the corners of his closed eyes. His throat was beginning to grow sore from the extended laughter. On and on it went. The Brit was certain he was going to faint, as it was getting harder to breath. And then, after what seemed like hours (but in reality was only a few minutes), the tickling stopped.
    Arthur could feel the weight on his arms and legs being removed, and he immediately curled into a tight ball. He was panting, greedily sucking in air, and absolutely exhausted. He didn't have the energy to do anything else, so he just lay there.
    "Jeez Arty, you okay, dude?" Alfred asked, crawling over to Arthur. "Sorry if we went a bit overboard," he apologized, wiping a few stray tears off of the Brit's cheeks.
    Arthur didn't answer right away, too busy regaining his breath. However, once he did a few minutes later, he glared at Alfred. "You bloody wanker," he said, lightly punching the American on the arm. "I hate you."
    Alfred grinned, and turned to the others behind him. "He's okay, guys!" He announced, flashing a thumbs up.
    Cheers sounded throughout the room.
    Slowly, Arthur pushed himself up onto his knees. He stayed silent, watching the group. They were all smiling and laughing, and they genuinely seemed like they were having a good time. They all looked... Happy. And maybe, just maybe, that brought a smile to Arthur's face.
    ...And maybe it also made him pounce on Alfred, shouting out his revenge.

                                                            End.