A/N: And here begins my first actual attempt at a multi-chaptered story. I actually have a plot for this one, and I plan on finishing it soon, too. So, um, enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or USUK would be even more canon that it is already.
"You need help again?" Matthew asked his twin brother, who was looking at him sheepishly.
"You know the way I am with math. Just help me, then I can help you with your history homework," Alfred said, and Matthew sighed.
"I already did that. Just because you do everything last minute doesn't mean I do," Matthew said, walking into the kitchen, "I don't think Mom's getting home in time to fix dinner tonight, so I'll do it."
"After you help me with my math!" Alfred called into the other room, then gave up, knowing his brother just wanted him to do it for himself. He stared at the page for a long time.
"It's done!" Matthew called from the next room, and Alfred got up, frustrated that he had not been able to do a single thing. Just as he pulled his chair out he heard the door open.
"Matt, Al? You in there?" she asked as she walked into the kitchen, "Oh, you fixed food. Thank goodness, I didn't think I'd have time to get that done." She flopped into the chair next to Alfred, obviously tired. The three chewed their food in silence for a while, until their mom cleared her throat.
"I got a letter from Dad today," Lucy, their mom, began, and the two twin brothers were suddenly sitting up straight and listening, "I hadn't opened it yet, because I wanted to read it when we were all together."
"Open it now!" Alfred begged, adding as an afterthought, "Please?"
"Fine, fine, I will," Lucy said, pulling an envelope out of her jacket pocket. She started to open it, and could almost feel Alfred's excitement at hearing from his dad. She pulled out the letter and began to read it out loud.
"Dear Family,
I can't believe I've been away for almost four months now. It's just been so long. Of course, all we've been doing is drills, and nobody is going anywhere for a while. Not during peacetime. Though many people are insisting that we're going to join the war soon. I'm still not sure. Some people are getting transferred, but I think it's mostly just to look like we're doing something, and only to places within the country.
Don't worry Matthew, I made friends here, so I'm not lonely, and Alfred, I'm working out a lot now. There's not much more they make us do. Though we do have classes every once in a while. I just wish they would stop yelling at me. Been here four months and I'm still getting yelled at like I got here yesterday..." Lucy read the letter, as it talked about the people he'd met and the trouble he'd gotten into. When she finished, Alfred looked at her.
"When was it sent?" he asked. She looked at the top of the letter.
" December 3rd," their mom answered.
"It only took twenty days to get here, the mails getting around fast," Matthew commented, then took another bite. Their mom put the letter away, then stared at the twins, making it seem as though she had something else she wanted to say.
"Is there something else you want to say?" Matthew, ever the watchful one, asked.
"Actually, I do. There's going to be a couple changes around here," their mom said, and Alfred's mind blanked.
'Changes?' he thought. 'But I've been trying so hard to keep things as close to normal as possible since Dad left...and it's almost Christmas...'
"Have you boys heard about the refugee program that was started?" their mom started off.
"Yes," they answered simultaneously.
"Well, some of the people at my work are involved in that, and I thought that we could pitch in," she continued. Alfred's mind started spazzing, not liking where this was going. "So I volunteered us to take in a British child,"
"You what?" Alfred said, the food almost falling out of his mouth. Almost. Their mom frowned.
"You don't want to help out the-" she started.
"It's not that! It's just, we've had so much trouble ever since Dad got drafted, and he's not even allowed to come back and visit for Christmas, and I didn't want anything to change now, now that we finally seemed to have things figured out," Alfred said, staring at his plate. His mom's face softened.
"It's going to be fine, this boy is just going to be here until the threat to Britain is over. It shouldn't take a long time, and you know it'll be nice to be doing something to help someone out there," she told her more immature child, who every once in a while seemed to be much more mature than he seemed.
"We can take him in, but it doesn't mean I have to like him," Alfred said.
"You should try to get over that attitude before tomorrow, because that's when he's going to get here," his mother dropped yet another bomb on the family. Alfred looked at her and frowned.
"I'm not hungry anymore," he said, quickly leaving the room and going to his bedroom.
"Please tell me you are fine with this, Matthew," Lucy asked, and Matthew smiled at her.
"It's fine with me, and it'll be fine with Al too, eventually," Matthew answered.
"I sure hope so."
…
Alfred dreaded the moment when the door would open, for once in his life, because this time he knew it was the end of normalcy as it had been recently, and this little British boy was going to throw a wrench into their problems.
"Al, the door just opened, we need to go greet this boy, make him feel welcome," Matthew told his brother, dragging him out of his reverie, "Even if you don't want him here, he probably doesn't either. So don't make him feel any worse than he would anyway, so far from home."
"I'm coming, you don't have to give me a speech," Alfred said, playfully nudging his brother.
"I'm home!" they both heard their mother call out, and they walked to the front of the house. She stepped in, holding a bag that was not her's, and then behind her stood another person, about as tall as her. They walked in together, and that's when Alfred realized that this "child" was no child. He looked to be sixteen year old, just like him and Matthew. He was slightly shorter than Alfred, with large eyebrows and a light blush on his cheeks. But what popped out the most was the eyes, the striking green eyes, that he only barely saw because they were aimed downward.
"Alfred, Matthew, this is Arthur," their mom said, and Alfred frowned.
"I thought you said you were bringing home a kid. This isn't a kid, this is a teenager, that's different," Alfred told his mom, and she glared at him.
"Err, um, hi Arthur, I'm Matthew, and that's Alfred. But it's fine if you can't tell us apart at first, nobody ever can," Matthew tried to break the tension.
"H-hello," Arthur stuttered out, looking up to at the twins, "I'm Arthur Kirkland, and it's so nice of you to take me in."
Alfred continued to stare at Arthur. "Al, could you take these bags up to your room?" his mom asked Alfred.
"Why my room?" Alfred whined.
"Because your's is bigger than Matt's. Now stop whining and be nice to your guest," she told him fiercely.
Alfred gulped and grabbed his bags, muttering a quiet "Follow me," before walking up the stairs to his room, quiet footsteps walking up the stairs behind him. He opened his door, sitting the bags down next to his bunk bed that he'd grown out of years ago. "Well, this is my room. And now I guess yours, for the time being," Alfred said, "I usually sleep on the top, so unless you have some major problem with being on the bottom, you're sleeping there."
"Bottom is fine by me," Arthur answered quietly, and Alfred opened the door full again.
"I'm gonna go see is Matt needs any help with the food," Alfred said, leaving the British boy in the room alone. Arthur set about situating his things, when he heard a door open behind him.
"Don't mind Alfred," Matthew told Arthur, "He hasn't been the same since Dad got drafted. He'll get used to you."
"Oh, so he doesn't hate me," Arthur said with what sounded like a sigh of relief.
"Hate you? How could he, he only just met you," Matthew said, walking over towards the British boy, "Just give him some time, he'll warm up to you. Now, if you don't mind, I need to go make sure he hasn't started burning anything yet. He's not the best cook." Matthew left the room, and Arthur was alone again.
…
"What is this?" Arthur asked once he came downstairs to eat. Matthew looked up from scooping the meat onto a plate.
"It's meatloaf and potatoes. Sorry I didn't fix more, but I'm making do with what we have at the moment," he answered, and their mom entered the conversation.
"I'm going to stop at the Alison's after work tomorrow," she told the three boys, "She has the food I asked her to get yesterday after we were finished working, so I'm going to go pick it up. I hope you can manage being alone a little while on Christmas."
"We should be able to for a while, you just need to be home on that day," Alfred answered through the meatloaf.
"Close your mouth when you chew. Sometimes you make me feel like I'm the mother of a seven year old again," their mom chided him, and Arthur smiled slightly, watching the family. "Do you like the meatloaf, Arthur?"
"Um, yes. It's good, thank you," Arthur said, looking down again. Matthew saw his mom shake his head.
"Well, I'm done," Alfred said, pushing away from the table and running out of the room, up to his bedroom, yelling behind him "I'm gonna go work on my math homework!"
"Arthur, do you want to go upstairs with him?" Matthew asked, and Arthur almost squeaked.
"But, doesn't he want to be alone? Isn't that why he just left the table before everyone else?" Arthur asked.
"Maybe he does, but I think he just wants to get his math homework done so I can stop holding it over his head that I always finish it before him. That, and he's frustrated because he doesn't know how to do it, and I refuse to tell him how to, so maybe you could," Matthew explained, and Arthur nodded, picking up his plate to go clean it. "Don't worry about that, I'll get it."
…
Arthur opened Alfred's door slightly, peaking in. Alfred was leaning back in his chair and tossing a ball up and down in the air.
"You can come in, if that's what you want me to say," Alfred said, not stopping what he was doing.
"Is that what maths is like here?" Arthur asked, trying to make a joke to lighten the atmosphere.
Alfred turned around and looked at Arthur, then deeming that he was not being serious, laughed. "It is when I can't figure out how to do the next problem." Arthur crossed the room to look over Alfred's shoulder, looking at the math work on the table.
"We did this last year, so I know how to do it. Do you want me to explain it to you?" Arthur asked the other boy.
"You can try, but like Mattie has learned, it's hard to get something through to my brain," Alfred said, looking over at the British boy, "I think that's why he never helps me anymore."
"I can try though," Arthur said, sitting on the bed and looking over at him. "It's like this..."
…
"I told you they could get along," Matthew told his mother, after walking upstairs and listening to the conversation.
"I never said I didn't believe you," she responded.
"Hey Matthew, you need to learn how to whisper better!" Alfred yelled from his room. Matthew blushed. His mom patted him on the back. In his room, Alfred shook his head. "Sorry 'bout that, but sometimes I just need to make Matthew realize that I'm not dumber than a box of rocks."
"It's fine," Arthur said, standing back up from his crouching position next to Alfred's desk. "Do you get it now?"
"I think so. Thanks for helping me," Alfred said. Arthur smiled and nodded. "But don't think this means that I'm fine with you being here. I'm still mad that my mom invited you here without consulting Matthew and I first. I'm just not as mad at you now," he continued, and Arthur stared at him for being so direct. "Now I'm going to bed, cause all this math has made me sleepy. Stupid teachers, assigning homework over the break," Alfred got out of his chair and crawled up to his bed, flopping onto it. "'Night."
"Good night, Alfred," Arthur said, flipping off the lights and closing the door slightly.
A/N: I had to do some research for this one, considering the fact that it is historical. That was another first for me.
OK, first off, I took some creative liberty with the fact that most of the children who came to America from England came in 1939, but for my story, Arthur came in 1940. The majority of the fanfic will be before war even starts for the U.S. The only other thing I think might throw people off is Arthur's personality. I think it makes sense in the situation for him to be quiet and shy, and for Alfred to be capable of some gentleness. I think that as they get used to each other Arthur will get his personality back.
Um, now that that's done...R&R, por favor?
