So, this idea is based off of several different similar doujins, etc. But I'm hoping there's none really like this...

"Why are you bringing that up again, dude?" sighed Alfred. "We've been through this – I'm apparently 'not cute any more'."

"I remembered something from long ago – you don't need to sound so bloody exasperated!" snapped Arthur. "It's not as though I constantly do that!"

"Well, you do it all the time around me," said Alfred with a shrug, poking at the meal Arthur had placed before him.

The two nations were at one of Alfred's houses. He had been going to watch some new horror films but his boss had called him in at the last minute. Now he was finally home but was faced with 'dinner', something Arthur had concocted from God only knew what. One remark upon the black food, another about the past and the argument had started.

Arthur turned red. "It's not intentional, I assure you! I'd rather not speak about this with you!"

Sighing once again, Alfred looked up at him from his seat. He could see that Arthur was ready for a fight – his fists were clenched at his sides and he was glaring. "Look, let's just drop it. I'm tired..."

"Drop it! I can't just forget this slight!"

"It wasn't slightly anything!" exclaimed Alfred. "It's entirely black!" He shook the plate for emphasis and some of the blackened stuff fell to the floor.

"Watch it!" cried Arthur, angrily. Gritting his teeth, he made his way to the cupboard which contained the cleaning supplies. "Honestly! Now I have to clean up after you again."

"You don't have to! You're not my guardian any more!"

Freezing as he leaned over with a brush and pan, Arthur looked back up at him in surprise. After a brief pause, Arthur shook his head with a harsh bark of laughter. "If I don't tidy up after you, the whole place would be in a mess. It's been like that since you were a child. You had an easy life then. So did I, though... Much easier than my own childhood, actually..."

"My life wasn't easy with you around! Life is much easier now," added Alfred, frowning.

"Ha!" said Arthur, sweeping up the mess without looking at him with a roll of his eyes. "I reckon you would have a horrible time bringing up a child in this world."

"I could too do that!" cried Alfred.

Laughing, Arthur shook his head. "You could not – you're still a child yourself, idiot!"

"I am not!" yelled Alfred, his eyebrows furrowed.

Looking at him now, Arthur frowned. "There was no need to shout."

"That's rich, coming from you!"

"What was that, you wanker!"

"Don't pretend you didn't hear!"

"If that was an insult, I don't mind fighting you! I could beat you up with one hand tied behind my back."

Alfred snorted. "Yeah, and I could do that without moving!"

"You bastard! Stop making fun of me! Is this why you brought me here?!"

"No, I want you to watch those horror movies with me," said Alfred, confused.

There was a pause as Arthur eyed him. Then, turning with his nose in the air, he walked to the kitchen door. "Well, I have business tomorrow – I will not be able to do what you asked."

"What?! But you can't leave me now!"

"Oh, grow up, Alfred!" snapped Arthur in the doorway. "You've kept me waiting all day – I'm not staying here to be insulted."

"I'm not a kid!"

"You are. If you understood that, you would be able to navigate the world better, idiot!" With that, Arthur left, slamming the front door behind him.

"What was with him?" muttered Alfred to himself. He scooped up some of the 'food' and munched on it sullenly.

Later, Alfred found himself staring out of his bedroom window at the stars. How had the day ended like that? Why did they fight so often? He knew the answer, of course: Arthur still thought of him as a selfish child who could do nothing for himself. But he could!

Then he remembered the times he had cooked for himself or cleaned a room. Arthur had still not been happy, calling his work slipshod. Was there any way to please him?

A movement in the sky caught his eye and he focussed, surprised. There was a star falling across his scope of vision and he grinned. What could he wish for? The fight to be resolved?

I reckon you would have a horrible time bringing up a child in this world.

What Arthur had said earlier popped into his head quite suddenly. For a moment, Alfred was startled. Then he stared hard at the moving star and said his wish out loud. "I wish Arthur could see how good I'd be at bringing up a kid. In fact," he added as he remembered what Arthur had said about his childhood being difficult, "if you could make him the kid, I could show him how much better I am at bringing up kids than him!"

He laughed at his wish as the star fell out of sight. Of course none of that would come true. However, he could totally surprise him when the Brit no doubt returned the next day – he would rise early and tidy. He'd even make Arthur some food. Probably hamburgers since they were so awesome.

It was an unmitigated disaster. He slept in. There were no ingredients for hamburgers. Just as he was panicking about being so disorganised, there was a hammering on the front door. Surprised, he dropped the spatula he had been holding into the sink and hurried to open it.

"Ah, you're early-!" began Alfred as he wrenched it open only to find no-one there. He blinked for a moment.

"Hey!" said a voice below his eye line. Startled, Alfred looked down. A small boy was standing there. He had messy blonde hair, startling green eyes and huge eyebrows. A moody expression stared up at the taller Alfred. His clothes were odd – he seemed to be wearing a sort of white robe with a green cloak. An arrow was nocked in his small bow and was pointed at Alfred's chest, a quiver slung over his shoulders.

"Arthur...?" asked Alfred, recognising his eyebrows.

"What?" snapped the boy.

"Is that you?"

"I do not know what you are talking about. Where am I? Speak!" The small boy's fingers pulled at the bow's string.

"But isn't that you, Arthur?"

"What? What is an 'Arthur'?"

"England?" Alfred tried. After all, they were nations. However, in recent years, they had taken on human names as well so as not to alarm the people working with them.

"You know me?" said the small nation.

"Yeah, you're Ar- England. But... How did you get so small?"

"I am not small! And I am definitely going to become bigger than you!"

"Uh... Is this a trick?" asked Alfred, cautiously.

"What are you talking about? Where am I? Tell me!"

"Why don't you come in? And put that down..." said Alfred, moving out of his way.

For a moment, the little boy looked tempted. He twitched a few times as though about to move forward. However, he suddenly frowned and the string of the bow was drawn tighter than before. "Is this a trap?"

"Um, no..."

"Then what is this place?"

"It's my house..."

"'House'? Do you mean it is a dwelling?"

"I... think so?"

England looked up at the whitewashed house and the glass windows. "It is like no dwelling I have ever seen..."

"Do you wanna come in or not?" asked Alfred, impatient to get some food. "I can cook you breakfast."

"A cooked meal...?" said England. He looked pleasantly surprised. "You would do that for me?"

"Yup," replied Alfred.

The cloaked nation seemed to be about to break into a smile. Then, suddenly, he remembered himself and shook his head. "I have no need for such hospitalit-" His stomach suddenly growled loudly. The two of them looked at each other for a moment as England grew steadily red. "I have no need for it!" he suddenly shouted and turned. Before he could get very far, however, Alfred caught him by the hood of his cloak. The arrow dropped from England's hand and he was reduced to wriggling around, waving his bow.

"You're so stubborn," sighed Alfred as he retreated into the house, carrying England with him. He took him to the kitchen and placed him on a chair at the table. Realising he was too small to see the top, he procured a cushion from the living room and placed it on the seat so that England was raised. "Just sit-" Alfred began before noticing the boy's expression.

England was gazing around in awe at the gleaming tiles and scrubbed wooden tops. He had cleaned them himself the day before. "What is this place...?" he breathed.

"It's my kitchen. I'm pretty sure you were in here just yesterday."

"What? I have never seen such a place before – do not talk such nonsense."

Alfred shrugged. "Whatever, dude. I have no idea how you managed to get so small but just sit there and don't touch anything. You'll probably just hurt yourself. I'm gonna cook now."

"Do not-!" cried England, a strained expression upon his face. "Do not pretend to..." Trailing off, England turned his head away, glowering at the table, his arms crossed.

Relieved that the kid had finally stopped talking, Alfred turned to the fridge and looked in it to see what he could actually make. There was a gasp behind him and he glanced round to find a terrified looking Arthur backing away from it. Crying out, Alfred leapt forwards and caught him before he toppled from the chair. "Sheesh! Watch what you're doing!"

"Un-Unhand me!" snapped Arthur, not appearing grateful for Alfred's heroics. With a roll of his eyes, Alfred set him down. "What... is that thing?"

"It's a fridge," Alfred explained. Then, since he didn't seem to understand, he added, "It keeps your food cool. Stops it going off?" Seeing that England had no idea what he meant, he tried to explain, scrunching his nose up in thought. "Uh... Keeps it... good?" he said, feeling lame at not knowing how to describe it.

"Preserves it?" said an astonished England.

"Yeah! Exactly!" cried Alfred, relieved they understood each other.

"But... How does it do that?"

"Well, y'see, when a liquid evaporates, it absorbs the-"

"Eva... What?" asked England looking very confused.

Alfred stared at England for a moment. Evaporation had been a word since he was a kid. But, perhaps, when Arthur had been a kid, it hadn't been named yet. So how could he explain it to this kid? "Um... Liquid turns into gas. That's air," he added as he saw that England was still confused. "When that happens, it absorbs heat and cools down the surrounding area. So there's a speci-"

"It sounds like magic... Is that what you mean?" asked England, staring at Alfred as though the American was the idiot instead of the uninformed little nation.

He gave up. "Sure," he said and turned back to the food. Spotting some eggs and a chunk of cheese, he decided he'd just make omelettes. It would be simpler and would allow them to move onto the problem of returning Arthur to his former state. He found a pan and walked to the electric cooker. When he put it on, he heard a small noise behind him. Turning, he found England frowning again. "What's up?"

"Where is the fire?" asked England.

Sighing, Alfred tried to explain. "It's just rings of-" He stopped himself – was there any use telling him exactly how it worked? "Rings of fire in this thing," he said, tapping the stove with a foot. "It's magic," he added.

Wide-eyed, the little England said, "Wow... You must be a powerful sorcerer..."

Laughing, Alfred shook his head. "Nah, this is pretty simple."

England frowned. "I have never seen this sort of sorcery before. Where exactly am I?"

"Alexandria," Alfred replied as he put the ingredients into the pan.

"I have never heard of it. What country am I in?"

"Ameri- Uh..." Alfred paused. If he said he was from America, what would Arthur – or England – say. Thinking quickly, he decided on using the older name for himself. "The, uh, New World."

"What 'New World'?" asked England with a frown. "And how will I get home?"

"Uh... No more talking till we've eaten," said Alfred. His stomach was growling and he couldn't concentrate this early.

"I'm telling you – he's a little kid!" whispered Alfred down the phone. He had left England in the living room with a couple of toy soldiers he had found in one of his cupboards. In fact, they were the ones England had given him a few hundred years ago. He had figured it wouldn't hurt for the kid to see them since England seemed to have no memory of them.

"Oh?" said Francis on the other end. "I would love to see that!"

"No!" cried Alfred. "I'm not having you two destroying my house!"

"Oui, oui..." sighed Francis. "Et? Why are you calling moi?"

"I thought you could help me! You've known him the longest. What do I do with him?"

"You could always kill him, honhon!"

"Francis!" exclaimed Alfred, exasperated. "He doesn't remember- He's not Arthur. He's England. I'm not sure whether I should look after him till he goes back to normal or not!"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Do you mean he thinks he is in, say... the eleven hundreds?"

"Yeah, I think so. He doesn't know about cookers or fridges or evaporation and he's got a bow and arrow!" Alfred blurted out as he tried to see England through the open door.

A sigh crackled through the receiver. "I have no idea what you should do. Do you know how it happened?"

"No. He just turned up at my door. But he has no clue where he is. Or about a New World."

"Oh? You told him you were the 'New World'? That was rather bold of you."

"Francis!"

"Oui, oui. Do not panic. He will go back to normal soon. That is what usually happens. Mais... Be careful."

"Careful?" asked Alfred with a laugh. "Why do I have to be careful?"

"Alfred... Think about who you are dealing with. This is Arthur before the British Empire. He is in the period when he was making his way towards that goal. All he cares about is protecting himself and getting bigger. Conquering more land. He may be more violent than you are used to."

"I'm sure it'll be fi-" began Alfred only to wince as he heard a great crash from the living room. Alarmed, he dropped the receiver and let it hang, hurrying to where England was. The small nation was lying on the floor in a sea of video games, his hood covering his face. Glancing round, he noticed that the toy soldiers had been abandoned on the sofa. "What... What were you doing?!"

England sat up and pushed back his hood, revealing his cut face. "I do not need to answer to you." Defiantly, he glared up at Alfred. "I want you to take me home," he demanded.

"I can't take you there in this state! You can't look after yourself-" Alfred stopped. This was it. The reason Arthur had changed. He had wished for this and it had come true. His eyes widened. A little sheepishly, he looked down at the boy. Scowling, England stared back at him. Then again... This didn't need to be a bad thing. He could prove to Arthur that he could look after kids. There was no way Arthur would beat him at being an awesome guardian. "I need to look after you, England! So you'll have to stay here for now, okay?"

"But I do not want to stay here with you," said England.

"Don't worry about it!" grinned Alfred. "What were you trying to do, anyway?"

Glancing round, England drew Alfred's attention to the clock high on one of his shelves. The video games would certainly help to climb up to it. "I want to know what it is."

"It measures the passage of time. It's called a clock."

"Why do you want to do that?" asked England, turning back to him and frowning.

"Eh... Never mind, c'mon. I gotta get something on your cut."

England took a step backwards as Alfred held out his hand. "I am perfectly fine on my own, thank you. It is not life-threatening. Besides, I cannot die."

"But you gotta put something on it or it'll get infected."

"I am fine," said England with such a finality that it reminded Alfred of the Arthur he knew. Blinking, he watched the boy scramble up onto the sofa and pick up a toy soldier.

Shrugging, Alfred went back to the phone and Francis. "Hey, sorry 'bout that. Little Artie got into a bit of bother. Ha! I should totally call him that! Better than England."

"Desolé, cher. All I heard was 'better than England'. What is?"

"Never mind. Thanks, anyway Francis. See ya!"

"Wai-" Alfred heard Francis say as he took the receiver away from his ear. He only shrugged and put it down. After all, there were things he had to do with England – he was going to be very busy...

England plucked at his shorts. "I do not like this."

"I've told you," Alfred sighed, "this is just what people wear now- I mean, here."

"I see..." said England, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Alfred rubbed at his eyes. It had been a couple of days since England had turned up on his doorstep. They had gone shopping for children's clothes (which he hated), made sure they had food (which Alfred had had to order in twice because England had tried to 'help') and they had watched a horror movie. Alfred was still rather surprised that England had agreed to that after being startled by the TV. More surprising, in his opinion, was that England had mocked him for being scared.

After observing England, Alfred had decided he disliked his attitude. The boy refused to believe him and was suspicious of everything. He often tried to fight his way out of the house to go home. Things went flying when he tried to reach them without help. It was all Alfred could do to keep up with him and save him from himself.

Learning about Arthur's past had been rather shocking. The constant flight or fight responses. His unwillingness to open up to anyone. Alfred found it rather upset him that this kid was like this. To the American, it seemed like England was thinking more like an adult. He hadn't gotten a chance to be a kid like Alfred.

So Alfred was taking him out to the park. If it killed him, he would make sure England had fun. He would make sure he had a childhood this time round.

Even if he did feel exhausted from the last two days.

Grabbing England's hand for the fifth time that day, he held on more tightly than before. "C'mon. We're almost there."

"Let go of me!" grumbled England, looking angry.

Alfred frowned. "No. I've already told you, these roads are dangerous."

"Yes, because of these strange magical carriages," sighed England. "I can take care of myself. Let me go."

"Nope," said Alfred, tugging at him to hurry him across the road. They had arrived at their destination but Alfred kept hold of England till they had passed through the gate. "Well, here we are! On you go, l'il Artie! Have fun!"

"I have told you numerous times not to call me that!" snapped England. "And what is this place?"

"It's a park. You go play."

"Play?" said England as if he had never heard of the concept. "With what? And who?" He stared at the climbing frame and swings, frowning. Perhaps the brightly painted things confused him.

"Well, on the... things," said Alfred, gesturing at them with a sweep of his arm. "I'll sit on this bench and wait for you."

"You... You are not coming with me?" England looked rather upset.

"I'm too big," explained Alfred as kindly as he could.

"Oh," said England. "Well... I shall not be too long, then." And with that he had left before Alfred could tell him that he didn't need to hurry.

Watching him was painful. England could climb and swing and spin round – he was a rather athletic boy. However, doing that on your own is boring and so, realising that, he tried to talk to the other children. Unfortunately, in his confused state, with his proper way of speaking, the others were wary of him. They drifted away from him and gave him a wide berth. Or perhaps he did, being suspicious of them. He hadn't played for very long before he appeared at Alfred's elbow.

"I have had enough of this charade," he said, grumpily. "I would like to go home and watch one of those 'movies'."

"You're not really supposed to watch them," admonished Alfred. "They're too old for you."

"Too old?" scoffed England, shaking his head. "I think you will find that I am plenty old, Alfred."

"Okay, okay!" sighed Alfred. "Let's get something to eat on the way home, then."

"As you wish."

"Right! Let's go for a bath!" declared Alfred, standing.

Another day had passed and they had spent it playing board games. England caught on well but he still treated everything suspiciously. Whenever he lost, he seemed quite upset, almost as though he expected Alfred to claim his land for his own. So, after a few times of seeing England tear up a little, Alfred began to lose purposefully. After all, he was a hero.

And also extremely tired. England hardly slept, always on the alert. Alfred had not had much sleep in the last few days and he wondered if he ever would again. He was beginning to think he should do what Francis had suggested and let someone else look after him soon.

"Bath?"

"Uh, yeah. It's... You get in a pool of water and wash yourself."

"Eh?!" exclaimed England, staring up at Alfred. He looked more alarmed than Alfred would have thought. "Is that not dangerous?"

"Oh, no! It's the big white thing in the bathroom."

"That thing?! But that looks like some sort of dark monster!"

"You think everything big and unfamiliar's a monster!" said Alfred as he picked up the little nation. "C'mon! It won't take long!"

"No! Put me down!" yelled England, swinging his arms and legs. Alfred only laughed and carried him through. He had already run the water while England hadn't been paying attention so he turned to the boy.

"Okay, raise your arms," he said as he placed him on the floor.

"Hmph!" said England, folding his arms.

"I'll tickle you again," Alfred scolded him. Frowning, England raised his arms. Alfred quickly took off the robe he preferred to wear before he picked him up. "It's gonna be okay, 'kay?" Smiling at him, Alfred placed him gently in the bath. Alarmed, England clung to him until he assured he could let go without being eaten or drowned.

For a moment, Alfred debated whether he should get in too. Shrugging, he stripped and stepped in, too. England watched him warily. With a grin, Alfred pulled him close and began to wash his hair.

"Ah! What is that? It hurts my eyes!" cried England.

"Sorry! Sorry!" gasped Alfred. "You're supposed to close your eyes!"

"You should have told me that, idiot!" snapped England as he allowed Alfred to help him wash his eyes out. When that was done, Alfred washed his own hair and let England wash his body with the soap he was now so fascinated by. Eventually, however, even this relaxing, fun time was brought to an end by the kid. "How long must we stay here?"

"Sheesh. Okay, okay, I get the hint. Let's get out." Alfred rose and stepped out before lifting England back out. They dried off with fluffy towels and Alfred dressed the little boy in his nightshirt. "Bedtime!" announced Alfred, grinning.

"Hm," was all England said in response.

"... so they flew off back to their world. It was rather... disappointing. However, I was so happy to find that Flying Mint Bunny did not go! He is going to keep me company forever!"

"What about the other nations?" asked Alfred, smiling at England's sleepy eyes. It was the sixth night of Arthur's predicament and the two sleepy nations were lying in bed. England was curled up next to Alfred, a suitable distance between them.

"Hm?" asked England who seemed to have been dozing off. "Well, nations do not always last forever. Like that... Rome... guy..." His breathing slowed and Alfred smiled at his sleeping form. He rolled over so he was lying on his back and let his eyes close. As he did so, he recalled a conversation from earlier.

"Alfred-kun," Kiku said down the phone as England played with a teddy he had bought specially for him. "Francis-san told me that you have Arthur-san with you? And he is... Ē to... Small?"

"Ah, yeah. He still hasn't gone back to normal. It's been almost a week!"

"Are you well, Alfred-kun? Do you need any help looking after him?"

"What? Nah! I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

A pause. "I really think that you should take him home."

"What?!" cried Alfred, startling England. The American nation waved him back to what he had been doing. "Why? He'd be all alone..."

"Maybe his... friends... could help him with his problem."

"Oh..."

Thinking about it now, Alfred knew Kiku was right. He should have done that from the start, really. However... It was strange but he found himself enjoying himself with this younger version of Arthur. Was this how Arthur had felt taking care of him? A pang of guilt made his heart clench. No wonder he kept reminiscing...

With a groan, Alfred stretched with his eyes closed. Slowly, he opened them, squinting in the sunlight. Frowning, he wondered if he had forgotten to close the curtains the night before. Rolling over, he searched for England. The bed was empty beside him.

Bolting upright, Alfred looked around. What had happened? Where was he? England was so small he always fell if he tried to get off himself. The last few days he had wriggled around to make sure Alfred was awake before trying to climb down, knowing Alfred would help him instead. Looking around, however, England was nowhere to be seen. Frantic, Alfred rushed from his bed, tripping over his bed covers. Reaching the doors, he pulled it open, almost wrenching it from its hinges.

"England?!" cried Alfred. "Where are you?"

There was a noise from the living room and Alfred sighed in relief. Perhaps England had managed to get down by himself today. Hurrying to the room, he pulled open the door.

"Alfred, Alfred!" cried a deeper voice than he expected. "Look what happened to me!" Alfred did so and stared. The small England had grown. He was still smaller than Arthur – he appeared to be more a teenager than an adult. The clothes he was wearing were different too. It appeared he had looked through Alfred's wardrobe and found a pair of tight jeans and a belt – the legs were rolled up. A t-shirt hung off him, looking more like a dress than anything else. "I got bigger!" the young nation declared. "Are you not proud of how quickly I have grown? I did not expect to get this big so fast!"

It was obvious to Alfred then how Arthur had felt when he had come back to him and found him twice the size he had been before. The shock followed by the knowledge that he would be leaving Alfred soon made him feel undeniably sad. Alfred swallowed, wondering what to say or do. How should he act in this situation? "I can... see that..." he breathed, forcing himself to say something.

"Ah!" said England, suddenly. "Would you like me to cook something for you? I can do that now! I know how to make so many English dishes!"

"No!" shouted Alfred. When England looked at him, he found himself struggling for something to say. If he said he hated the scones he would no doubt make, would he leave him quicker? "I- I'll-"

"Perhaps I should make something, cher?" said a voice behind Alfred. Jumping, the American turned to stare at Francis, Matthew and Kiku.

"Argh! It's the Frog!" cried England, surprised.

"No, wait!" cried Alfred, catching hold of the smaller nation before he could start a fight. "If... If you could... Francis, tha-thanks!" Alfred managed to get out while he struggled with the suddenly energetic England.

"Arthur-san, you must not hit Francis-san," said Kiku, gently.

England stopped moving and he stared wide-eyed at Kiku. "'Arthur-san'? What is that? Who are you?" Kiku tilted his head and Alfred watched his expression. However, it was as unreadable as always.

"Mon Dieu. You really have forgotten a lot, oui?" said Francis.

"Shut up!" snapped England. Then he turned to the American. "Alfred, why is France here?! How did he find me? Even I do not know where I am..."

"I've told you," said Alfred as soothingly as possible, "you're in the New World."

"But I do not know where that is..."

"Listen, Artie- I mean, England." He paused here, wondering where he could send him so he could talk to the others. "Uh... The garden needs tidying up and stuff – since you're a big boy now, could you go do that?"

Frowning at him in suspicion, England nodded. "Yes." With that, he left, giving Francis and Kiku a wide berth and staring at Matthew in confusion.

"A 'big boy'?" asked Matthew with an eyebrow raised.

Alfred shrugged. "Seemed like something a kid would like to hear."

"He is not longer a child, cher," said Francis. "He is growing into the man he became – one who conquered nations and built an empire. There is no child any more. You must take him home. That is why we are here, after all. You seem reluctant to let him be taken away from you..."

Bristling, Alfred frowned. "He's still a kid! You saw his reaction to you. That's not his usual reaction. He's not ready to go home and work."

"Nobody said anything about working, Al," said Matthew, kindly. "We just need to help him get back to normal."

"Well, you can't help him," said Alfred, sulkily. "Maybe no-one can..."

There was a silence as these implications settled on them. Before anyone could move or speak, the front door suddenly banged open. "Alfred!" cried England's voice. With a gasp, Alfred hurried to him, the others following. They stopped sharply upon seeing him.

In the space of a few minutes, England had grown again. Now he seemed to be the correct height and build. Perhaps he was back to normal. Though why he appeared to be so angry was beyond Alfred. "Artie...?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Don't call me that!" snapped the nation, striding forwards. "What exactly do you mean by the 'New World'? This cannot be the New World! It looks nothing like it!"

"What...?" said a very confused Alfred.

"You've lied to me!" cried England. "Why would you do that?! I thought..." He trailed off and a blush spread across his cheeks. A scowl soon replaced that. "Take me to the ships!" he demanded. "I wish to go home."

"Angleterre-" began Francis

"And what the hell are you doing here, anyway, Frog? If this truly is the 'New World', this is my territory! Go back to your cesspit of a country already and stop hanging around!"

Francis looked as though he was going to retaliate but Alfred spoke first. "England! Don't be so horrible!"

"'Horrible'? Nothing is so terrible as to have been lied to!" snapped England.

Had this been how Arthur had felt when he had rebelled? Was this tightness around his heart how he had felt when Alfred had declared his independence? He took a breath. "England..." he said, softly. "Please..."

"Please what?!"

"Arthur-san... Calm down..." said Kiku quietly.

"Oh!" said England. And his tone changed quickly. "Japan? What are you doing here...? What on Earth is going on?"

"You are very confused – perhaps you should go lie down."

England hesitated as everyone watched him. His frown had deepened and, eventually, he nodded, a hand rubbing at his temple. "Yes, that seems like a good idea..." He passed them all by, frowning at Matthew again. Soon, they heard the click of the bedroom door and knew he would not hear them...

"Al... You need to take him home..." said Matthew gently as they sat around the table, eating pancakes and crêpes. "He's confused – he needs to be in a place where he'll stay calm."

"Matthieu is right, of course," said Francis with a kind smile. "Until he becomes 'Arthur', England is trés dangerous."

"But..." said Alfred, slowly, a little confused as to why he felt so protective of the boy.

"Alfred-kun," said Kiku, gaining his attention. "I think that he will be back to normal soon. Do you not think that he will be annoyed that you kept him here for a week?"

"I was only doing it-!" began Alfred but stopped when a thump came from the room above them. Everyone looked up at the ceiling and waited, listening. "What...?" muttered Alfred.

"Perhaps he fell from the bed?" suggested Francis.

"I'm gonna go see what the problem is," said Alfred, firmly. He stood and the others followed suit. He shot them all a puzzled look.

"We'll come with you to make sure he doesn't hit you, eh?" said Matthew, looking worried.

Alfred laughed. "Why would he hit me?"

"In his mind, the New World may have recently declared its independence," explained Francis.

"Oh." With a shrug, Alfred led them upstairs. At the bedroom door, he knocked once, just in case, and opened the door. Inside, they found nothing. England was nowhere to be seen. Alfred's eyes widened.

"He is gone?" asked Francis behind him.

"E-England?" called Alfred. "Little Artie?" No-one answered. Panic rose in him. Where could the Brit have gotten to?

The doorbell rang and everyone jumped in surprise. Catching their breath, they looked at each other. "Did he climb out of the window?" asked Kiku, pointing. Glancing over, Alfred shook his head. It was still closed tight.

Once again, the doorbell rang, followed by a hammering on the door. "Should you...?" said Matthew, hesitantly.

Annoyed, Alfred hurried past the others and downstairs. He heard them following. At the door, he wrenched it open – and stared in shock.

Standing with his hands on his hips, in his normal clothes, scowling, was Arthur. Or, perhaps, it was England. Confused, Alfred breathed, "England...?"

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. "What on Earth were you doing? Why didn't you answer the damn door-?" He halted as he spotted the others behind Alfred. "Ah... Hello, Kiku, Matthew." He paused before adding, "I see you're here, too, Frog. Anyway, I'll leave you to it."

"Wait!" exclaimed Alfred, flinging himself forward, he hugged the Brit. "You're back to normal! What happened?"

"What? Let go of me! What nonsense are you spouting this time?" Arthur struggled against Alfred's hold.

"You were little and now you're back to normal! How did you manage it this time?" asked Alfred as he let him go.

"I really have no idea what you're going on about..."

"You became your younger self, Sourcils," explained Francis, venom in the insult.

Arthur frowned at them all, his large eyebrows almost meeting. "I still don't understand..."

"You were at my house for a whole week!" said Alfred. "I'm sorry we fought! But lets go inside and we can all watch a movie!" He grabbed Arthur's hand but the Brit stepped backwards, looking at Alfred as if he was insane.

"No such thing happened!" he snapped. "I've been in England for a week. There was urgent work I was needed for so I had to go home. You can ask my boss if you don't believe me."

"Eh?" said Matthew.

"Mais..." said Francis, looking startled.

"Arthur-san, I assure you," said Kiku. "You were here a few moments ago..."

"Perhaps you all had a similar dream or delusion...?" suggested Arthur, smirking slightly in disbelief.

"You are the last person to be talking about delusions, bâtard fou!" exclaimed Francis.

"What was that?" growled Arthur before he let out a cry as Alfred squeezed him tight.

"I want ice cream, Arthur!" Alfred demanded. "And you have to stay for the movie! You're not allowed to go home till I've seen it!"

"Don't be so self-" began Arthur before being cut off as he yelped in pain from being crushed. "Okay, fine, you giant git! Just let go!" he croaked.

Happily, the American obliged. He had learned something from his week. Seeing someone grow up in front of you very quickly was rather heartbreaking. So, if he acted as childishly as possible, maybe Arthur wouldn't be so upset with him all the time. "C'mon!" he cried and dragged everyone indoors.

So, basically, I had this thought - all these doujins with Alfred discovering a magically made small/childish Arthur usually had Arthur knowing about everything in the world. And I thought, hey, what would happen if he didn't have his memories? And he was confused about everything? I just thought it would amusing to have Al having to contend with Arthur constantly fighting with him/breaking things cause he thinks he needs to fight his way to an escape.

However, along the way, it kind of morphed. The argument at the start... I couldn't quite word it well, the way I had been thinking... And it slightly changed the reason for him changing. And I wanted it to be a one-shot so it was rushed. Along the way, I thought it'd be interesting if Arthur grew suddenly like Al did at one point. So it became this whole tables turned, almost a lesson in respect for Al. Not that he took it the right way... ^^"

Francis, Kiku and Mattie weren't meant to turn up but... they just... sorta appeared.

I couldn't decide whether to have Arthur go back to normal and not remember what happened or that it wasn't him in the first place. Like, instead, their had been a displacement of time or something... In the end, I'm still not sure. Not sure if he had his memories changed or not...

Kiku was very surprised and a little hurt that England didn't recognise him - he just didn't show it and Al couldn't tell.

Er... I can't think of much else to say so just ask me any questions...