A/N: Some minor edits have been made to the first three chapters of this story, and the fourth chapter is new, fresh off the presses! Apologies for my long hiatus, writer's block is a beast (x_x). To old readers: thank you all for your patience and the lovely reviews so far, and to new readers: enjoy! :D
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia! (sadsadsad)
Chapter 1
"Four Big Macs and a large fry to go?" the woman at the airport McDonalds called out.
"That's me! Thanks!" said a tall, blond-haired, blued-eyed young man as he came bounding up to receive the steaming bag of fast food. "…Or should I say mur-cee?" he added, winking, French accent woefully appalling.
The woman was unimpressed. "Sir, you do know that people in Quebec speak English as well?"
The young man shrugged and flashed a bright, enthusiastic smile. "Yeah, I know, but I have to practice demonstrating my knowledge of foreign cultures. I'm representing the US in the Global Youth Mock World Conference! It's totally crazy! I mean-" The young man pulled out one of the burgers from the bag and continued to babble as he unwrapped it and took a bite. "- ou' of lich thousandsh of college shtudentsh in America tha' applied, I'm th' on'y one tha' go' picked!" he said through mouthfuls of half-chewed burger. "An' you know wha th' besht par' ish?" he swallowed and took a huge sip of the soda he had in his hand.
"At the end of the conference I get to meet the actual president of the United States! All of the student delegates going will get to meet their country's leaders! It's like this whole thing meant to inspire the movers and shakers of tomorrow or whatever! But seriously, I am going to MEET the PRESIDENT!" He took another enormous bite, a bit of ketchup dribbling onto his chin.
"Ca' you eveh b'lieve ih?" he asked, eyes gleaming, cheeks puffed out with the mouthful of fast food.
The woman at the counter couldn't believe a lot of things that were happening at the moment, but before she could verbalize her disbelief the young man glanced at the clock on the wall behind her and let out a made-for-Hollywood gasp.
"Oh SWEET HOLY MOSES, I'm gonna miss the bus!" and with that he took off, furiously stuffing the rest of the half-eaten burger in his mouth as he ran.
The woman watched him race through the crowded lobby, flinging his duffle bag around, yelling back garbled jay sueez day-sol-aye's to the various unfortunates who happened to be in his line of fire.
The representative for America, eh? she thought to herself.
That much I can believe
Alfred made it to the bus waiting to bring the student delegates to the designated hotel with seconds to spare. Man, why did that McDonalds lady have to be so chatty? I mean, this is a once in lifetime opportunity here!
He shrugged it off as he handed his duffle to the attendant and showed the driver the special ID that had come with his mock conference packet. The driver nodded, and allowed Alfred onto the crowded bus.
Surveying the collection of strange new faces all staring at him in interest, Alfred felt an eager smile break across his face.
"Alright, nobody panic!" he couldn't help but announce. "The US of A has arriiiived!" And, oblivious to the whispers and raised eyebrows that followed him, Alfred made his way confidently toward the only empty seat he could see.
Oh, bollocks.
Arthur shot a vehement glance at the empty seat beside him, the one which that loud-mouthed American oaf at the front of the bus was heading straight for, and groaned. The long flight from London had put him in a sour mood, and all he wanted now was a nice, quiet bus ride, and a chance to do some more work. Arthur knew he wouldn't be able to put off the forced socializing that went along with this whole thing for too much longer, but damn it all to hell if he was going to squander away a prestigious opportunity like this in favor of such trifling matters as making friends. He had worked bloody hard to get here, damn it, and any extra time he was afforded should thus be spent in preparation for the conference.
He had a feeling that having mister self-proclaimed "US of A" as bus partner would make this a rather difficult task to carry out.
"Hey! Mind if I sit here?" The idiot-in-question asked brightly, and Arthur found himself staring up into a pair of bespectacled, cornflower blue eyes. The sudden, baffling wave of heat that he felt rise to his cheeks only served to increase his irritation.
"Does it really matter, seeing as there's nowhere else for you to bloody sit?" Arthur asked, not bothering to mask the venom in his voice. The git appeared to take it in stride, however. He flashed Arthur another ridiculous, eye-blinding smile.
"Haha, I guess not! Thanks!" he said, and plopped down into the seat as the bus started on its way, opening the brown McDonald's bag he was carrying and fishing out not one but three hamburgers.
"Sho, Englan' huh?" the yank asked as he unwrapped one of the burgers and stuffed a sizable portion into his mouth.
Arthur was too busy looking on in sheer disgust to pay attention to the question. "I beg your pardon?" he asked icily. The git swallowed his enormous mouthful and repeated the question.
"You're the delegate from England, right? I can tell by your fancy accent." Arthur rolled his eyes and let out an indignant huff.
"Firstly," he began to correct. "There's nothing fancy about my accent. You're the one with the accent-"
"Could've fooled me!" the American twit interjected playfully, swallowing another bite of burger and immediately preceding to shove a handful of fries in its place.
"And secondly," Arthur continued, speaking through his teeth. "I'm actually representing the entire United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland."
The git shrugged. "Shame thingh'" he said over a mouthful of fast food.
Arthur felt his blood beginning to boil. "It is most certainly not the same thing, and will you stop talking with your mouth full? It is bloody revolting!" He snapped hotly.
For a moment the American stared with a rather childish look of shock at Arthur's outburst, but then he swallowed his mouthful and let out an irritatingly loud laugh. "Woah! Chill, dude! Are all English people this grumpy? Because man, I do not want to go to England if that's the case…"
Arthur would not even dignify that question with an answer. He turned toward the window, resolving to ignore the American altogether. But the git would not be gotten rid of so easily.
"So, do you have, like, a real name, or should I just call you the guy from the United Kingdom of North Britain or whatever?" he asked as he took off the ridiculous bomber jacket he was wearing and leaned back into the seat.
Arthur thought hard about correcting the git for a second time, but decided to save his breath, and stayed firmly turned toward the window.
"Yo, didja hear me or what?" the American pressed on. "Jeez, and here I thought you Brits were all big on manners and stuff…" At this, Arthur felt his temper snap yet again.
"Look it up your bloody self, tosser!" he spat, wheeling about to look the yank in the eye. "It's in the program, as you'd know if you had even bothered to read it!" he gestured to his own program, which sat on his lap, neatly organized and color-coded.
"Hm, well, better now than never, right?" the git exclaimed, and plucked the program from Arthur's lap, much to the Briton's incoherent fury. "Let's see…uhhhhhmm….ahah! Arthur Kirkland! Arthur? That's such an old person name! But then, you are kind of acting like a grumpy old man right now, so-"
"Can it, prat!" Arthur shouted, snatching back the program. "I don't care in the slightest about what a yank like you thinks of my name!" That idiot American was not backing down though, his blue eyes gleamed with a devious glint.
"Okay then, mister I-read-the-program-and-therefore-know-everything-" he began, curling his leg up onto the seat and shifting so that his back was braced against the aisle armrest. "-what's my name?" He lowered his head a bit and looked over his glasses, his wheat-blond hair falling into his eyes.
Was this a challenge? Yes, it was; Arthur could tell by that look the git was giving him (a look which had incomprehensibly made him blush all over again). Well, Arthur Kirkland was not one to back away from a challenge, however idiotic it may be. He searched his mind for the answer: the name that went along with that annoying (yet strangely captivating) yank face...
"…Alfred Jones, if I'm not mistaken" He let the smallest hint of a smile cross his lips, because he knew he was not.
This time, for some unknown reason, the git (or Alfred rather), blushed, but he recovered quickly, raising his eyebrows and flashing that patented grin of his.
"Actually, it's Alfred F. Jones, but I'll let that slide this time, Artie" he said, winking.
"Do NOT call me that!" Arthur growled back.
"Whatever, Artie."
"AARGH!" Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples, completely beyond words. Something told him that the next few days were going to be far more stressful than he really cared to think about.
A/N: Soooo expect this story to be a little crazy, hopefully in an entertaining way. Lots more characters to come, but for now here's a few tidbits of explanation:
- the mock conference is taking place in Canada because Canada is AWESOME! (and also because that's the only country I've been to outside the US)
- "jay sueez day-sol-aye" = je suis desole = "I'm sorry". (Alfred's french accent is failx100)
UP NEXT: more bus time, and a few new faces!