Rain, rain, go away, but leave the Englishman for me.
Alfred sighed as he walked along the rows of dirt he had been tending to for the past month. This land was dead, the only reason he lived on the farm was because it was cheaper than living in the city. He leaned down to look at a spot of green that turned out to be a frog. When Arthur proposed planting a garden Alfred told him that nothing would grow; the crushing disappointment in the British man's emerald eyes convinced him to try anyway. Alfred paused and blinked at a tiny spot of green and when it didn't hop away he looked closer. A tiny plant was struggling to grow in the un-fertile dirt. Alfred smiled, he would have never done this before, yet he knew that, like the unsteady land beneath him, he was changing for the better. The Briton had come in with the summer storms and changed his isolated way of life; Alfred now had someone to worry about other than himself, someone who needed saving, and what kind of hero would he be if he didn't help? Done with caring for the plant, Alfred ran back to the house, he couldn't wait to see the smile on Arthur's face when he told him.
'Kay dudes, so I admit don't own Hetalia, but you know this already.
This is short but the second chapter is twice as long, so altogether this may be the longest thing I've posted so far.