Click.

Tap tap tap.

Click.

"Hmmm. Maybe?"

Click.

"Argh, no! Undo!"

Click click.

"Ugh, never mind, this one's worse."

Click click click.

"Can I do anything else?"

Tap tap.

Sigh.

"Nope."

Click.

"That's not useful at all! Damn it!"

Suddenly, the light switch was flicked on, and the dark room was flooded with light.

The man at the computer didn't even seem to notice.

"Maybe if I move that there… Ahah! Perfect!"

"How long have you been in here?"

Silence. He didn't even look up at the words. Maybe he just couldn't hear them.

The question was repeated a little louder. "How long have you been…"

"I don't know, okay?" the man cut in.

A scowl crossed the face of the man at the door. "So you were just ignoring me, Al?"

Al didn't feel the need to dignify this with a response.

"Three days."

Al turned around, confused. "Huh?"

As he turned and left, the older man added, "That's how long you've been in here."

Al's eyes widened and he looked at the date on his laptop.

"SHIT!"

Down the hall, the man smirked as he heard. "Idiot should have known better."

Al tore out of his room and pounced on him, screaming "DAMN IT IGGY! WHY DIDN'T YOU COME IN SOONER?"

"GAH! GET OFF OF ME, YOU TOSSER! IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU'RE AS THICK AS PIG SHIT!"

The screaming became a whine. "Aw, but Iggy, I haven't had a burger in three days!"

Shoving Al off, "Iggy" snorted. "Tough shit. And haven't I told you not to call me that? Sometimes I wonder if you even know my real name, Alfred!"

Al sat down hard. "Owww! Iggy! You're soooooooooo mean!"

"Iggy" froze. He knew that tone. I will not turn around. I will not turn around. I will not… Damn it!

He had turned around and was now looking straight into Al's most pathetic puppy dog face. He winced, knowing the American had won.

Diverting his eyes as quickly as possible, the Brit mumbled an "I'm sorry" before storming off.

Sitting on the ground, Al smirked at his victory. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished as he remembered why he was on the floor in the first place.

That stupid game.

That stupid, idiot, simple, crazily addictive game.

Had it really been three days?

Or…

Was Arthur just pulling his leg?

Yes, despite never, ever calling him that, Al knew his friend's name. If he could call him a friend. He wouldn't be surprised if the Brit had lied about how long he'd been absorbed in the game. It was probably just pay back for what had happened at the theater camp they had visited in upstate New York on the 4th of July. Yeah, that was it.

Oh, yeah hot shot? Then how'd he change the date on your computer? Al ignored the niggling little voice in the back of his head. It had been showing up a lot lately, but he refused to pay it any heed. Yeah, because Arthur is really going to go to all that trouble for a camp prank. Not like that stopped it from voicing its opinions.

He decided to test his theory and ran after Arthur.

"Hey, hey, Iggy!"

"Stop calling me that, twat!"

"Do you remember when we went to that camp for the 4th of July?"

Unaware of how closely Alfred's eyes were following him, Arthur rolled his eyes. "How could I forget, you ass! Your campers hooked up the zip-line so it ran into the lake, and then forced all the British councilors to ride it at the crack of dawn!"

"Well, I suppose karma got me with this, huh?"

Arthur looked up, startled. His baffled green eyes met with Alfred's searching blue ones. "What on earth are you getting at?"

After hold his gaze for a moment more, Alfred broke it off with a swear. "Fuck! So it really was three days! Damn it! I was hoping you were just fucking with me!"

Arthur's face suddenly changed to a sneer as he got what Alfred was hinting at. "What need would I have to make you look like an idiot? You make a fool of yourself quite enough on your own without my help."

Alfred's face turned bright red with embarrassment and anger. "Oh, yeah? Well, fuck off, Iggy! I'm going to McDonalds, and you are so not invited!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Like I would want to eat that garbage you call food!"

"At least it's better than your cooking!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Arthur snapped. But then he paused, his sneer returning. "I hope you're not planning on going looking like that."

Alfred looked down at his tattered and stained pajamas. "Fuck!" he screamed as he tore off to his bathroom.

When he got there, he slammed the door behind him and gazed in the mirror. He groaned at his appearance. His eyes were blood-shot behind his smudged glasses, his blond hair was a greasy birds-nest, and had stubble on his chin that made him look like Francis. There was no way in hell he was going out like this. Even he had standards.

Thirty minutes later, Alfred was showered, shaved, dressed, and fully prepared to storm out of his house with dignity. He threw his favorite bomber jacket over his plain white t-shirt and skinny jeans as he stormed out through the kitchen.

He just pretended he didn't hear the Brit's hearty laugh roaring through the house as he slammed the front door.

Stupid addictive Spider Solitaire.

Author notes:

This is my first time actually writing a Hetalia fanfic. It has also been a while since I last wrote any fanfics. Feedback is much appreciated, even if it is just a "I like it! Keep going!" or a "This sucks! Stop now before it's too late!" so please do give me some. Also, should this stay a one-shot, or should I write more?

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Hetalia, America, Britain, the English language, Spider Solitaire, McDonalds, and any other copyrighted things in this fanfic.