Title: On London's Stage

Author: Faeriesnook
Rating: PG

Summary: AU: Getting lost while on a tour of London was not something that Alfred had planned. Neither was stumbling into a theatre and coming across an paint-splattered Brit reciting Hamlet.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. I also do not own Hamlet.

-
Alfred F. Jones was completely, and utterly, lost. There was no two ways about it. He had lost his tour group, and while he had theorized that if he kept going in one direction he would soon reunite with them. But, that plan had soon flunked. And he was sure he was even more lost than he had been before. Great. Just great. The others were going to laugh at him when they met back up. If they had even noticed…

Actually, knowing Gilbert and Francis, they had been too busy flirting with the other females on their tour to notice the boisterous American was missing.

But maybe Mattie had noticed?

No… He was probably too busy trying not to get killed by Ivan while he held the Russian's older sisters hand.

Yup, none of them had noticed.

"Maybe I should just stop and ask for directions," he mumbled looking around. He hated being lost. He was a New Yorker; being lost was just something he did not do!

But he wasn't in New York… Or even America at the moment. He was in London, England. A completely different country!

And it was raining again.

What was with this country and rain!?

Alfred ran towards the first building, opening the door and slipping inside just as the downpour gained full swing. With a small huff he removed his glasses, drying them on his t-shirt, before looking around. Oh… A theatre, he'd run right into a theatre. Well, at least it didn't look like he was interrupting a performance. In fact the entire place was deserted… Which to say the least was a bit frightening…

But he would ignore that. Taking a seat, he fished his cell phone out of his jackets pocket. A sigh of relief escaping him when he saw he did indeed still have service, and quickly sending a text message to his twin.

Mattie, where r u guys?

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he glanced around the theatre. It really was magnificent. And massive. Did he mention it was completely deserted?

"To be, or not to be – that is the question," Alfred nearly screamed as a sudden, soft voice echoed across the theatre. A ghost! A ghost was here! His breathing picked up, Alfred clasping a hand in front of his mouth to keep his scream at bay. If the ghost didn't hear him then maybe… "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."

But wait… That… That wasn't a ghost.

Alfred's eyes widened as he watched a young man, maybe a few years older than himself, stepping onto the stage from one of the wings. His unruly, sandy blond hair hung in his face, eyes shut as he walked across the stage with surprising ease. A box, full of fabrics and props and brushes in his arm, paint smeared across his clothing. He was the owner of that voice.

The American debated leaving very quietly. But as the blond continued on Alfred felt himself suddenly rooted to the spot, blue eyes following the others movement in a quiet awe.

"Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them?" The blond set down his box, stretching. Alfred sat down in one of the plush theatre seats. The other did not notice him, even when he gazed across the seats, a solemn look in his eyes. "To die, to sleep, no more… And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks. That flesh is heir to."

Brilliant green eyes slipped shut as he spoke, the blond removing the pair of glasses that had been perched on his nose, balancing them on top of his head. And the raw emotion in his voice… Alfred felt a shudder run down his spine. Unable to look away."'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd."

His voice remained so soft, and yet it continued on. His voice reaching even Alfred in the back of the theatre. Passion dripping from every word, drawing Alfred deeper and deeper into the spell the paint splattered teen had unintentionally casted. "To die, to sleep." He sounded so desperate, brilliant green orbs opening, half lidded as they gazed ahead. "To sleep… Perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub; for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life."

A soft sigh escaped the man's lips. Those brilliant green eyes were open again, scanning across empty seats. "For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud ma-"

"Don't stop! Believing!" The spell was broken, both blonds jumping. Alfred fumbled, opening his phone, picking the 'view later' option before glancing back up. The man on stage had noticed him, those green eyes narrowed, his glasses once again perched on his nose. There was a flush on his cheeks, his entire body rigid (opposed to how relax it had been while he had been speaking).

"Who the bloody Hell are you!?" He shouted, and Alfred couldn't help but rub the back of his neck.

"Uh… Alfred F. Jones…" A small groan escaped the other, and he was sure he heard something about an 'American' and 'idiotic'. Alfred stood slowly, clearing his throat in an almost awkward manner. "I um… Well it started raining…"

"So you entered the theatre, which is closed by the way. There was a sign that said so. Meaning you are trespassing, Mr. Jones. I should call the police and have you-"

"I-It was unlocked!"That caused the other to pause, and a scowl deepened across his face.

"That goddamn Scot… I told him to lock the door when he left…" Grumbling a few more curses, Alfred watched him turn on his heels, squatting down by the box he had carried out. "Well, you aren't allowed in here."

"But it's pouring out!"

"Not my problem." Came the curt answer. Alfred felt his jaw drop. The other didn't seem to notice, continuing to sort through the box. After a minute or so passed, those sharp green eyes turned on him. "Why are you still here?"

"It's uh… Raining?" The British boy on stage snorted. Alfred scowled. "Oi, I'm sorry I don't like rain! I'll just stay here unti-"

"Can't be helped. Alfred right? Come over here and give me a hand."

"Wait… What?"

"If you're going to just stand there, you might as well give me a hand," he responded with a scowl. "It won't be anything difficult. Now come on."

Slowly, he walked down the aisle, climbing up the stairs to the side and onto the stage. Rubbing his arm nervously, he approached where the other blond was sitting. "I um, don't know much about theatre… Uh…"

"Arthur Kirkland. And that's fine. Sit down." Alfred did as he was told, and without any warning a prop (a bowl) was shoved into his hand followed by a paint brush. "See this? It's glaze. Just paint it over the bowl and then put it on the tarp."

"U-Uh right…" He shifted moving the can of glaze closer before dipping his brush into it. He glanced at the other, curiously. Arthur had pulled out a dress, sewing something to it. Not that Alfred could tell. He glanced back at his work, shifting every so often. They sat in a tense silence, the American not sure what to say. After a moment, Arthur was the one who broke it (much to Alfred's release).

"So what are you doing in this part of town anyway? Exploring?"

"Ah! I was with a tour group, with some kids from my school but… Well I got lost…" He caught a paint dribble with his paint brush. "We're here in London for a month. We've been here a week already, but all we've done are stupid tours! It's so boring man! I mean, at first it was cool but, gah! All we do is walk around, and then I'm too tired to go out with everyone else for exploring and, it sucks!"

Arthur snorted, glancing up from his needlework, before back. "That's too bad. London is a remarkable city."

"I know. Believe me. I really wish I could just explore… But I mean, we're on some stupid time schedule this German guy made for us. And he's kinda scary when he's angry…" A realization dawned Alfred. "Shit! I'm gonna die when he finds me!"

Arthur actually laughed at this, and Alfred felt himself overcome with an unexpected warmth. The Brit glanced up from his work discreetly, green eyes meeting blue.

Nothing was said, and Alfred could feel his face heat more and more. A shock coursing through his veins. Arthur was really… He was really rather attractive…

"Perhaps… I could show you around some time?" Alfred blinked, confused by the sudden proposition. Arthur looked away pointedly, and he could see the red tinting his cheeks. "Just… You should be able to explore. And while I'm sure the things you are seeing on these tours are important aspects of London… It isn't the city in its entirety… And just… It would be a shame…"

"That'd be really awesome!"

The tension between the two seemed to vanish, both talking much more comfortably. They conversed on a multitude of different subjects, along with debating their opinions on certain matters. There were times when the tension would return, Arthur scowling, glaring at the fabric in his lap while Alfred would all but pout, looking out at the theatre. It was during one of these moments, when the American spoke up.

"So… What were you doin', standing on the stage and saying those things for..?" He saw Arthur flush from the corner of his eye.

"They were lines from Hamlet, first of all. By Shakespeare, I'm sure you know the name. Or has the American educational system really gone that far down the drain?" Alfred was sure he should be offended by that, but the Brit carried on before he could comment. "My acting troop is putting on a production of Hamlet. Opening nights this weekend. I just came in for the day to finish up some costumes and set pieces before the actors came in for a final run through."

"Oh, so you're like, the lead right? Hamlet?" Arthur scoffed at that, making the taller of the two blink in confusion. "But you knew the lines right…?"

"Of course, Hamlet happens to be one of my favorite works of his. But I'm hardly the lead. I'm not even one of the actors." He rolled those brilliant eyes, idly gesturing to his paint smattered clothing. "I'm one of the stage managers. I've been helping build and paint the set, along with fixing up and making some of the costumes."

"But you were really…" Alfred trailed off, seeing the uncomfortable look that was crossing his new friends face. Opting to close his mouth instead, he glanced off to the side before rising to his feet.

"W-Where are you going!?"

"I wanna look at the set."

"No!" Arthur had shot to his feet, grabbing Alfred's arm in a vice-like grip.

"Sheesh! It's not the end of the world if I take a peek."

"If you want to see it so badly come see the show with me!"

A stillness echoed through the theatre. Alfred stared at him, mouth hanging open. Arthur seemed to realize what he said, sputtering and trying to back track. It only took a few seconds for Alfred to register the meaning of the others words. A warmth spread through him, his face heating up, but a large grin forming.

"Arthur Kirkland, are you asking me, a person you just a met a few hours ago, on a date?"

"I-I would never!" The flushed Brit snapped, letting go of Alfred's arm and spinning around. "I had merely thought that perhaps you would enjoy to see a proper production of Hamlet! I'm not asking- Honestly! All of you American's think the world revolves around you! Like I would ever want to ask-"

"I'd love too." That cut Arthur rant off, he looked over his shoulder, that flush remaining.

"You… Would?" Alfred nodded, and he saw a smile form across the others face. Before he turned around again to hide it. "Well th-"

"Don't stop! Believing!" Both jumped a good food, Alfred fumbling and pulling his forgotten cell phone from his pocket, opening it quickly.

Al, where are you!? Are you okay!?

He smiled sheepishly at his phone, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should uh, get going… My groups getting worried I think."

"Ah, right… Um, if you would like… I could help you find them…"

"What about your work?" He gestured to the pile of fabric. Arthur glanced at it before giving a small shrug.

"It will be there when I get back…"

Alfred grinned, nodding a little bit. They left the theatre together, prattling on about non-important matters. Arthur spouting out random tidbits as they walked to where Alfred's group was (after he had texted Matthew back and found out). Really, Alfred couldn't help but be reminded of those tours that he had spent the last week on…

But then he glanced at the Brit, and that warmth returned.

This was better than any tour.

-

This was for Day 2 of the USUK communities Sweethearts Week~ Which has now spawned into a chapter fic. Because I enjoy the premise of this too much. Plus, as a former techi myself, the idea of getting to write Arthur as one will be incredibly enjoyable!

Stay tuned for more~