A/N: I'm baaaaack. It's only been since... last May that I posted something on here? I'm sorry, to anyone who was following my past stories. They have been, more or less, abandoned. If I ever get the inspiration to write for them again, I will. But as of now, the inspiration just isn't there.

The inspiration that is there however is all for Hetalia. And specifically, my love for a certain Brit and American. I've had the idea for this fic for a while, and I'm so happy that I've finally written it out. I'm hoping that this fic goes on for at least a little while and that you'll enjoy it. It will mostly be UKUS. I haven't decided if I'll put in any other pairings. But I really like what I've come up with, and I hope you to do~!

And more than likely, the rating will change after a couple chapters. I won't be able to stay away from eventual sex...

Stupid.

That is all that this certain Brit could think of as he absentmindedly strummed his bass guitar. Currently, he and his band were performing... at a high school prom. He looked out at all the teens. They couldn't give two shits about the music they were playing. They were far too busy grinding up against each other and having tongue wars to notice.

But he had learned a long time ago that a gig was a gig. And any publicity was good publicity. With any luck, he could sweet talk a couple of girls into buying their album. How he loved America... with only his British accent, he found that he could easily convince young women to do just about anything he wanted.

The band played on, covering all those stupid songs that teenagers loved to dance to as if they were in heat. Arthur took a moment to stop staring out into space to look at his crowd. Most were in a big circle dancing. Some were off to the sides talking with friends, some were alone... but one in particular caught his attention.

Standing all the way in the back of the dance hall was a young man. He wasn't dancing, nor was he chatting up with a cheerleader (he looked the jock type, at least). He was just standing there, staring at the band with a soft smile on his face as he listened. Sometime during the night, he seemed to have lost his dress jacket... his tie hung lazily around his neck and he had one bit of hair which was determined to stand up on end. He was attractive enough, so Arthur couldn't fathom why on earth this guy was just standing by himself, listening to his band nonetheless. And wait a minute... was that a camera in his hand?

As the band finished up their set, Arthur watched as the mysterious boy walked away. He was probably off to rejoin with his date. The DJ was quick to fill the silence. "Alright alright, let's give it up for Rock Nation!"

There was an assortment of lackluster cheers which reverberated throughout the hall. Arthur rolled his eyes, ready for this to be over with. "But the dance ain't over yet. I'm gonna slow things down for y'all so grab your sweetheart and bring them to the dance floor."

Arthur took this as his cue to get the hell out of there... if only for a moment. "Hey Arthur, aren't you gonna help pack up?" asked his bandmate Matthew, the guitar player.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm just going out for a fag," Arthur mumbled back, darting for the exit. The night air was cool against his face as he walked out the door. Leaning up against his band's van, he pulled a box of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Bringing it to his lips and lighting it, he finally took the first nice, long drag.

"That's the ticket..." he murmured as he was instantaneously hit with a sense of calm, breathing the smoke out through his nose.

"Dude, that's so bad for you..."

Arthur's calm was short-lived as he turned his head to see the boy from the dance. Sure enough, a camcorder was attached to his hand. What the— why was he here?

"You don't say?" Arthur teased, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Your band is pretty awesome," the boy said, stepping closer to Arthur. He was much taller in person, as opposed to across a dance hall.

"Yeah? Well, I think you're the only person who—"

"No way! I didn't know you were British! So are you like, from London or something?" he asked excitedly. What was with this kid? And more importantly, why was he talking with Arthur?

"You may want to get back inside before your girlfriend begins to wonder what's happened to you," Arthur said, taking another drag.

"Don't have one, bro!" he replied, a cheeky grin on his face. Arthur found that hard to believe. He was attractive, no doubt, and built like a god. And his blue eyes... oh, what on earth was he thinking?

"Then go back inside regardless. Do you have nothing better to do than to bother a man while he's having a smoke—? Are you recording this?" Arthur asked, seeing the pulsing red light on the camcorder for the first time.

"Well, duh dude... have anything you wanna say?" he asked. Arthur was just not in the mood for this. Not today. "Bro, are you blushing?"

"Kiss my arse, you stupid American!" Arthur grumbled, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stomping on it.

"Hey, wait—!"

But Arthur didn't wait. He hurried back towards the building. He had to help his bandmates pack up as well. "That was quick, Arthur," commented Kiku, upon seeing him come back in. Kiku was from Japan and he was the band's drummer.

"What are you going on about?" Arthur asked, annoyed.

"I did not mean anything by it..." Kiku mused.

"What's bothering you?" their keyboard player Roderich asked, a hint of snark in his voice.

"Nothing... just could've used one more fag," Arthur mumbled as he began unplugging his amps. "Where did Matthew go?"

"Said he went to look for someone... I hope he's off getting our pay," Roderich replied. It wasn't long before the three of them had moved everything to the truck.

"Right. Ready to go?" Arthur asked.

"We still have to wait for Matthew," Kiku replied.

"Of course we do," Arthur answered hastily. It's not like he had forgotten about him or anything. While standing outside the van waiting for Matthew, Arthur took the chance to light up another cigarette. Luckily, he hadn't seen that annoying American again.

"Sorry I took so long, guys!" Matt said, coming out of the door and approaching them.

"About time, let's go," Roderich replied, opening one of the van doors.

"Wait, I have a surprise for you guys... so, remember how we were all talking about Battle of the Bands the other night? And how this could be our big chance?"

"Out with it, Matthew."

"Well, if this is our chance, I thought it would be cool to have it documented, you know? So I—"

"Mattie, you out here bro? Oh SWEET! It's the whole band!"

Him? Again?

"Guys, this is my half-brother, Alfred Jones. He's a film student and he offered to document our band's progression to Battle of the Bands."

"Just call me Spielberg! Dudes, this documentary is gonna be bad ass. You can totally trust me."

A documentary? By him? Was Matthew serious? He's just a high school kid!

"How much are you charging?" asked Roderich.

"Charging? No, I actually need a final project for my film class. When Mattie said you guys were gonna do Battle of the Bands, I couldn't pass that up!"

"If it's free, I'm cool with it," Roderich replied, finally getting into the van.

"Thank you for your interest, Alfred," Kiku said, offering his hand to Alfred, only to have it shaken much more eagerly by Alfred than he was expecting.

"You kidding, man? How could I not be?"

"Yeah? Well, you best not get in our way. We take our music very seriously," Arthur snapped.

"No problem, Artie!" Artie? "And don't worry. I'll make the best documentary ever! I'll even be nice and cut out that stuff about stupid Americans and arse kissing," he smirked.

Bloody hell...

A/N: Short first chapter is short. Next one will be longer, I promise. And lame band name is LAME. Seriously, if you guys have any suggestions, bring them on.

Thanks for reading, lovelies!

stacyTHEemo :)