A/N- Hey everyone! Sorry, it's been absolutely ages since I last submitted anything! It's not that I haven't been writing, per se, in fact I've been doing a LOT of writing, it's just that I've been working on a massive, and I mean MASSIVE, RP with a friend of mine, which has so far resulted in over 200 pages on Word in size eleven font... So, all my creative juices were being poured into that, which is still ongoing and will be for the foreseeable future, but this evening I received a very polite email from Nekome-Sama requesting a Hetalia and Ouran crossover with regards to a poll on my profile I'd completely forgotten even existed. So, since my friend was busy taking ages to reply, I decided to write a short oneshot. So, here is the fruit of my evening's labours. In British English, as per usual~! Oh and it's midnight now, and I need to sleep, so don't expect this to be too thoroughly proof-read and expect the odd error here and there from that...

Enjoy!

Disclaimer- I don't own Hetalia or Ouran High School Host Club. Don't go filing a lawsuit against my arse. Or any other part of my body for that matter.

ooo

Click.

There was a faint bttz noise as the television in the room switched off. The indistinct sound of a small bark echoed around the house as its only human(ish) occupant, hauled himself to his feet and trudged away to his futon, grunting with the effort and mumbling something about his 'old bones'. There was a rustling as he crawled under the covers, and the steady sound of his breathing slowed as he drifted deeper and deeper into sleep.

ooo

"K…u? Ki…u? A…e… y… ok…y… Ar... you… awake?"

Hands were shaking him awake, and as he came round, the voice became clearer. It sounded familiar, like he should know it from somewhere. It was so close, on the fringes of his memory, but as he reached out to grasp it, it slipped away, like a spectre, and he was left only with the feeling that he should avoid cheeseburgers and horror movies. Strange.

A pair of brown eyes fluttered open, the lashes lifting back to allow him to make out the face above. He was on his back, and could make out an ornate ceiling above, littered with chandeliers and other elaborate decorations. But then his shifted his field of vision to incorporate the person hovering above him, and as he blinked a few more times, the figure came into focus.

Wide blue eyes stared back at him, and he could tell they were dulled by something, the colours not quite as vivid as they should be. It was only then that he noticed the glasses on the man (boy?)'s face, and he realised that those were what was obscuring his view. Sandy blond hair framed faintly tanned skin, definitely a westerner, and he could see that whoever they were, they had a rather bulky and warm-looking bomber jacket on, above the rest of a distinctly expensive-looking school uniform.

"Ah! Kiku! You're okay! You scared us with your fall there! I can't believe that vase you bumped into knocked you clean out!"

Kiku? Who was Kiku? Was that him? He didn't remember that being his name… His name was… was… Like everything else, it seemed to be slipping through some intangible veil in his memory… Ja… Ja… J… No, it was gone.

Well then, for now, he would just have to be 'Kiku'.

A rather large hand was suddenly thrust into his face then, and he squirmed a bit, startled by the sudden action. He blinked his eyes rapidly, before his mind processed that this was in fact a gesture to help him up, and he reached out a set of slim, delicate fingers, hesitant to risk them in that strong-looking grasp but too polite to refuse the aid. The force by which he was all but dragged to his feet had him yelping, but then he was being held still, and finally the hands left him altogether.

He looked around, taking in the strangely pink décor, the large piano in one corner, the sofas and tables and tea sets, which were all strangely familiar. It was as if this place came from elsewhere, and he had the most bizarre feeling that it was completely unreal…

And the tea sets… when he saw them, they reminded him of someone else. His stomach churned for some reason, and his hands surreptitiously slipped to grip his belly. And… why did he think of eyebrows? There was a voice too… A voice with an odd lilt, but that could be so forma-

"Oi, Alfred. Don't forget that the vase was supposed to go up for auction next week."

There it was! He span around, only to be greeted with the sight of five more people, besides the one who'd helped him up earlier. The one who had spoken was in the centre of the group, with a shock of light blonde hair, and eyes that were the colour of rolling fields in the height of summer. But then his eyes travelled up to just above that verdant hue, and he was presented with the largest pair of eyebrows he had ever seen in his life. Déjà vu suddenly swam over him, the sensation sending his balance flying out the window and leaving his vision rippling. He pressed a hand to his head for a second, before he righted himself, and was able to look in the man's direction once again.

"I know, Artie, I know. We'll just get him to pay back the money." There was the other man's voice again, and this time he noticed that it had a distinctly different twang to it than this 'Artie's more… the word might be 'velvety'… one.

"I don't remember ever saying you could call me 'Artie'. 'Arthur', please…" the lighter blond muttered, arms folding across his chest. But then he raised his volume somewhat to address the man known as 'Alfred' properly. "But don't you remember? Or is your brain that small that you fail to recall things that you were told mere minutes ago? Kiku is a scholarship student. He doesn't have the money to pay us for that vase."

Alfred looked sheepish, even more so when Arthur's caterpillar-brows furrowed and his glare intensified. One hand snaked its way up to scratch the back of his head, and he laughed half-heartedly. "Oh yeah… Guess I forgot. What're we gonna do then?"

Arthur sighed, pressing one pale-skinned hand with long, delicate fingers to his face. "Well, that was a Ming vase, worth £50,000…"

"In dollars, please," Alfred butted in. Arthur sighed once again. Hmm, he seemed to do that a lot. Did Alfred frustrate him?

"Almost $80,000."

"Woah!"

"Ahem." Arthur coughed into his clenched hand in an attempt to politely request that the blue-eyed man shut up. "And since we're already having certain difficulties with funds as it is, owing to certain… uh… dietary-related strains on the budget, I'm afraid the only solution may have to be…"He trailed off, and at this point, a devilish glint appeared in the blond's eye, and a wolfish smirk splashed across his features. "…For him to work it off."

"Work it off?" the man in question asked. He was both frightened and confused. What sort of work were they talking about? What would he have to do? These people and this place looked strange… Would this job involve… debauchery? He shivered at the thought.

"Yeah! You can totally join us, dude!" Alfred clapped a large hand on his back, then slid it up and grabbed him round his shoulders. He tensed at the sudden bodily contact. Was this inappropriate touching? He didn't know anymore… "Let me introduce ya to the team!"

Finally he pulled away and scooted over to the group of males. It was only now that Kiku realised that all of them were dressed in matching uniforms: light blue blazers, with matching trousers, and ties fastened up around their necks.

"Okay, first things first! I'm Alfred!" The man/boy/hyperactive puppy on steroids pointed to himself, bouncing up and down on the tips of his toes. Kiku's head bobbed from following the motion and it made him feel slightly seasick. "Alfred F Jones! I'm the Hero! I'm also the president of this group! And, most importantly, I'm daddy!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Kiku saw Arthur's eyes roll.

"This is Arthur! His full name is Arthur Kirkland, King of Being a Pompous Douchenozzle Land. He's also mommy!"

Arthur scoffed and smacked the hand that Alfred had placed around his shoulders away. "Wanker. And whenever did we decide that I was 'mummy', or you're wife by logical deduction? !"

"Pfft, ignore him Kiku. He's just pissy 'cause it's his time of the month," Alfred mock-whispered to the confused man. Arthur looked suddenly shocked and enraged, raising his fist to punch the sunny blond, so the target quickly moved on to his next person.

He hurried over to a boy with auburn hair and matching wide eyes, who had a strange curl sticking from one side of his head and a dopey but happy look on his face. He was also clutching in his arms a plushie cat which seemed remarkably similar to its owner. Kiku couldn't help but think the toy was cute. He really, really loved cats.

"This is Feliciano!" Alfred introduced, a broad grin still lighting up his features. " Feliciano Vargas! And behind him is Ludwig!"

Kiku's gaze shifted up to see a very, very muscular man stood behind. Taller than Feliciano, with short, slicked back blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He definitely looked like he could snap a person in half if they so much as looked at him the wrong way, and Kiku subconsciously took half a step backwards, throat bobbing as he gulped.

"And these…" Alfred moved across to what was most certainly the most… distinctive and… unique… pair of people Kiku had ever seen in his entire life. They were identical. Identical twins, certainly. Both albino, with mops of snow white hair and wicked red eyes that already had his skin crawling with the sensation that they were planning something horrible for him. A couple of small sun-coloured birds sat perched upon their shoulders, chirping melodically every now and again. "These are the Beilschmidt twins. Gilbert and Kristoff."

That second name jarred with Kiku, and, for just a brief moment, it broke the illusion. It was out of place. Wrong. Irregular. It gave him the sensation it didn't belong there, and it was enough to temporarily send the walls of that little world crashing down. For a split second, he remembered who he was, and it was enough to leave a crack.

Alfred, it seemed, had not noticed the minor lapse in Kiku's focus, as he had continued talking as he strode back into the centre of the group, taking a place right beside Arthur, much to the latter's annoyance.

"Anyway, enough with the personal introductions. As you already know, together we're the Host Club!"

And now, after being jerked from the fantasy once more, Alfred's words didn't just take a sledgehammer to the walls, they drove a bulldozer straight through them. And over Japan's body while they were at it.

Images flashed through his head, once after the other in rapid sensation. It was a sensation akin to having one's life flash before one's eyes, only these were pictures of the future, not the past: slipping on a banana and kissing a pretty girl with a flower in her hair; walking through a world from Alice in Wonderland; listening to Alfred play the piano; hiding in a church with Gilbert; shopping with Arthur, and… and… kissing Alfred…

"NO!" he yelled, squeezing his eyes tightly shut to drive the images from his head, shaking it back and forth. "Not without him taking responsibirity!" This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. No. No. No!

ooo

Japan sat bolt upright in his futon, sweating profusely. Brown eyes quickly darted over to the shiny DVD case laying on the floor, still to be put away after a late-night anime binging session. It was dark, but in the pale moonlight he could still make out the words printed in a fancy font on the cover.

He groaned and pressed his palm to his face, his pet dog crawling onto his lap and yipping at him, tiny tail wagging at a hundred miles per hour.

"And zat, Pochi, is why I wirr never watch Ouran before I go to sreep again."