Hey guys, so this is my new USUK story. I thought it would be quite funny to see America and England ice skate, right after I was forced to watch Dancing on Ice (british televison program) with my Grandma. You can just about imagine Arthur as a twirl-girl!

Anyway this story is dedicated to my friend, Georgia. As she helped me with a few ideas for it. I should be updating each chapter as soon as I can, and the story will last for about 8 chapters. Feel free to tell me if you want anything adding into it. I will be adding more pairings.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers or any of it's characters.

Warnings: Bad language (Arthur has a potty mouth), some drama, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read!

Gliding on a piece of glass

"Good day, I'm here for today's lesson" I said as I reached the front desk.

The young lady at the desk was sitting behind the counter with her booted feet placed on the wooden surface, legs crossed over one another. The woman had messy brown hair with random curls and ringlets falling down to her shoulders. Her clothes deemed appropriate for her position as receptionist, despite the fact that the make up she were wearing was far too heavy, she looked as though she had just had a bucket of water fall over her head. Though who am I to judge people's appearances when I have two gigantic caterpillars currently taking up half of my forehead? Perhaps that is all the rage these days, to look like a bedridden clown.

She sighed as though she thought that a customer would not walk in to bother her. Although it is her job to help people when they come in for an appointment.

"Name?" she asked with that same bored-to-tears tone of voice. I suppose jobs like this would become boring if you had to sit behind a desk all day long.

"Arthur, Arthur Kirkland" I replied. She looked me in the eyes when she had heard more of voice. I do still tend to talk with my accent from back home, even though I have been living here in America for at least six years now. My British accent surprises most new people when I talk to them. Many ask me where I was from before I moved here. I tell them that I was from the UK and after that they either say my accent is sexy and then ask me for my telephone number, start to babble on about how they would like to visit my country, or mock me in a failed attempt of how a British person would talk...wankers.

I mean where in George's name did "Let's all go 'av a tea party!" and "Ello there, governor" come from. I have never said those two phrases in all my years of living, twenty three to be exact. Yes, I do understand that I have the basic Londoner accent because it was where I was born and brought up. And yes, even though I try my hardest to keep up my gentleman image, I do sometimes revert back to british slang. And also yes, I do drink tea on a daily basis. But that is no reason to mimic how I talk, and then add in made up phrases that neither I nor anyone else from back home would ever use. Bloody hell! I should just try to copy an American person's accent some time, just for the sake of it. I could go all hillbilly and argue the toss about obesity and being a yank.

Sometimes Americans just piss me off; well actually that's most of the time. The only reason I moved was for my profession. And as sissy as it may sound, I am in fact a dancer. That's right, I dance...in competitions...all over the damn globe. It was my boss' idea that I move here. And not long after I had sold my house back in England and took a flight over here, then settled into a smaller but equally as nice house, I received a phone call from my boss saying that the dance auditions in America had been cancelled until further notice. Meaning I moved all the way to the other side of the world for squat.

I was so furious that I went on a mad rampage and stomped into my new next-door neighbour's little patch of gardening. She, Mrs Ellen, saw how angry and upset I was and offered me inside for some tea, so I could tell her my story. Lovely woman, she is. After that I would always trot on over to her place if I got worked up over something. She always and still does accept me into her home. No matter what state of mind I'm in. I could return from the boozer, pissed and aled up, and she would still let me enter her home.

Anyway I got a little of topic, so with the receptionist. She typed a few things into the system computer and asked me things like my date of birth and the session time in which my boss had booked for me. She said that he had booked once a week for me, until the Nationals started. Oh and did I mention that after a year or so, which my boss had still received no further notice, he finally told me that he found me a place. It was in the National Ice Championships. I actually didn't know what to say to him. I'm wonderful at dancing on the ballroom or even in my kitchen when I'm waiting for the water to boil for my tea, but dancing on ice? That was a whole different level. I said that I would never be able to pull it off; I don't know how to ice skate. I'm more of a flat tap shoe sort of guy, but standing on a blade would be much harder. I couldn't bare to think what would happen if in the middle of my performance if I slipped on the ice and fell on my arse. That would be bloody embarrassing.

After several refusals and my boss' persistency, I agreed. It was worth a try. I could maybe have some fun with it. He promised me that he'd get the best ice dancing professional in the whole of America. As it turns out Mr Professional from America is actually some Canadian guy called Matthew Williams. It didn't really matter to me as long as he taught me how to balance on the ice.

"Right..." the receptionist spoke as she stood up and pointed down the corridor to the left of us "Last door on the left. The Instructor should already be in there"

I nodded my head and started to make my way down the corridor as I whispered a soft thank you. She glanced at the computer and her eyes widened a fraction. "Have fun!" she shouted to me as she began to immerse herself in a mass of giggles and sniggers from behind her hand.

I went to the door she told me to and stared at it for a moment. I could already feel a cold draft coming from underneath the door; I shivered slightly. Luckily I had come prepared and was wearing two thick jumpers and a knitted scarf made by Mrs Ellen. I pushed lightly on the door handle and the door swung open to a large rink with un-touched glass in the middle. Nobody was in here except a man in the far right corner sitting on a plastic chair and now me. I had certainly felt the cold air hit my face when I entered and blimey it was freezing. My nose turned a pink colour quickly and I sniffed a bit.

The man, that I presumed was my instructor, didn't even acknowledge me. He seemed to be reading and eating at the same time. There was a second chair in front of him where his heels were currently placed along with around eight "McDonald" bags. So the food must have been a hamburger...disgusting. With a closer inspection I noticed his clothes were baggy and un-ironed, even a few grease stains accompanying them. His skates and gym bag looked as though it had been slung to the side carelessly as many things were falling out of it. And don't get me started on his worn out trainers, they even had little stickers on them saying things like "I'm your hero!" How stupid!

He pushed his glasses up his nose and reached to the floor to grab a ridiculously large soda drink. Then he slurped and slurped and slurped on the straw. He stifled a small laugh as he had read a funny line in the magazine which was placed on his lap. I couldn't see exactly what he was reading, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was something crude...like porn. Judging by his appearance and the minute and a half of his friggin behaviour that I have witnessed before me (which is atrocious by the way), I'd say that my guess wouldn't be half bad. Yes, I do make an opinion on things by its cover, even though you are not supposed to. If it looks appealing to me, I'll have a wack at it.

Unfortunately for me though, I'm stuck learning how to ice skate from this idiot for the next four weeks or so. This buffoon is the great professional ice skater, Matthew Williams?

I highly doubt that very much. Let's just hope I'm right...

TBC

So whattd'ya think?

Remember to review and tell me what you want me to include. We already have USxUK, but I think that Canada should be with someone...